Portia: That’s good.
Me: Can I have my question now?
Portia: Ask me tomorrow. I’m too tired now.
Me: Tomorrow is Wednesday.
Portia: Oops. Coffee Loft is on fire. Gotta go!
Chuckling, I picture Portia’s face when we locked gazes at the fundraiser. A lot has changed since that night. Clearly our opinions of each other have improved. It’s weird how we didn’t know it then, but a spry old man named Pappi was exactly what we both needed to get past our giant egos. We really aren’t that different when it comes to our stubbornness.
I can’t wait to see her again. Maybe it’s all in my head, but she’s texting like she likes me, too.
Sighing, I stand back up and head toward the diner.
Now, if only I can get her to admit she likes me.
twenty-nine
Portia
I’m completely whipped when I crawl into bed. I’ve been hoping Christian would text me, harassing me to tell him my question, but he never did. I toyed with the idea of texting him with a random clue to my question, but since he was the one spending time with family, I kept my space.
Three days have passed since I've heard from Christian, and it feels much longer. It’s funny how you think you know what you want in life, and then something simple like someone coming into your life changes everything. I haven’t been obsessing over my female to male ratio on my website at all the last few days. Sure, I hand out QR codes, but then I leave it up to fate. So far, the website hasn’t crashed. I take that as a good sign. It actually feels healthy for me to take a small step back from my website now. I check it but only once a day, as opposed to at least once every hour.
I tap my phone, not engaging any letters to actually type. It’s too early in this situationaship for me to justify bothering him at his grandma’s, but I can’t help but wish my phone would light up with a text. I have no idea how long I stare at my phone but without noticing, I nod off.
Sometime in the early morning, I wake up to my phone chiming.
Christian: I’m headed out for a morning walk. Want to talk with me?
Me: Ok.
Christian: Tell me your ideal match.
Me: Excuse me?
Christian: You’re a matchmaker. Was that your question for me? Were you going to try to match me again?
Me: No. I wasn’t going to match you!
Christian: Ok. Good. I’m happy with my first match.
Me: Oh, really? What’s she like?
Christian: Big attitude, and is very sarcastic.
Christian: But she’s gorgeous.
Christian: Have you heard of Rapunzel?
Me: I don’t live in a Rapunzel tower!
Christian: Until they fix your elevator, you’d be better off growing your hair out.
Me: Funny.
Christian: What’s your ideal match?
