I pause and present an assured smile. “Yeah. It’s just a first date, and he seems nice.”
My first match came three days after theCupid’s BowHQ meeting with Niyi—Julian, a twenty-five-year-old Pisces man. His age and the Pisces of it all made me want to call Merc up and ask if they were joking, but after chatting with him online, I could see why we were paired. He’s a straightforward, ambitious, bordering-on-successful marketing professional. He’s been polite and flirtatious. Bonus, there’ve been no red flags.
“Where are you guys going again?” Anjie asks.
“The rooftop place we went to over the summer.” I smile, reminiscing.Boston doesn’t have many fine things, but the proximity to the Atlantic Ocean is a winner.
“Their food was nice.” Anjie nods.
“The DJ was my favorite part,” Sewa says.
During the summer, they had an amazing DJ who played everything from Whitney Houston to Soca to Afrobeats. Granted, it was a Black event, hosted by a Black collective, but it was still at the bar with scenic ocean views. Now it’s colder so I don’t expect the same DJ, but I heard they had outdoor seating with heated inflatable igloos.
“I’ll let y’all know how the food is this time around,” I say.
“And call us after the date,” Sewa says.
“Of course! I’m sure it’ll be fine. Can’t get cheated on at a bar,” I joke, but it doesn’t land. Instead, concern mars their faces, and I beat myself up. I can’t keep giving them reasons to be concerned.
We’re big texters who like an impromptu video call every once in a while, but the past three weeks have been unbelievable. I love them, but it’s as if they hacked into my schedule and planned for someone to check in at regular intervals. In addition to their “Big Brother”-like hold on my life, Anjie’s been dropping off more food. Not that I’m complaining, but she’s acting like I no longer know how to cook. No longer know how to live since the Cole incident. I’m tired of it.
“Moyo, if you do—”
“Bye.” I end the call mid-sentence, stopping Anjie from finishing whatever thought that would make me consider staying home. I’m committed to giving dating another go, so I just need to take that first-date leap. What’s the worst that could happen?
Date #1
I SHOULD LEAVE.
It’s been almost thirty minutes with no word from Julian.
What’s the worst that could happen?I’d dared to wonder. Apparently, it’s getting stood up by a fucking Pisces man.
But every time the urge to grab my purse and leave rises, the packed rooftop with its blue iridescent lights and transparent circular tents cools the fire of my growing annoyance.
I want to eat here, in one of these fake igloos, and have a nice night.
I want to stick to my plan. Ineedto stick to my plan. UseCupid’s Bow, go on the date, see the infuriating Niyi again, and find true love. It’s an easy plan. And it should work in no time, barring the nextCupid’s Bowman being a cheater like Cole…if I ever get to meet him. Despite my hesitance, I wait. If anything is going to ruin my chance at love, it won’t be my impatience.
I’m silently seething—I said I’d wait, not that I wouldn’t have an attitude about it—when a firm hand perches on my shoulder. I turn around, ready to cuss out the stranger infringing on my personal space, when I recognize him. It’s the lightly tanned skin and gorgeous, hazel eyes that I’ve grown accustomed to over the past week though hisCupid’s Bowprofile picture—Julian.
Finally.
I’m about to comment on his tardiness when I notice his slight grimace and the beads of sweat collecting on his forehead.Cut him some slack, Moyo.I reluctantly chill as Julian’s words tumble out with the grace of a hydroplaning vehicle.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” he says. His eyes are apologetic, but as he takes me in, they fill with desire, burning low, like a pot on simmer.
“I got you this.” Julian pulls a rose bouquet from behind his back. I fight back my wince, replacing it with a tepid smile.
It’s not his fault he got me roses. That’s the default. It’s a good gesture.
Julian’s trying to make up for his undesirable start, and I should let him. The night is still young.
“It’s okay. It’s only been thirty minutes, not the end of the world,” I say, attempting to reassure him, and myself, before calling for the waitress’s attention.
“I accidentally spent a little too long making sure I look good for you. Fashionably late, as they say. How did I do?” Julian shoots me a cheeky grin as he gestures to his plain white- button down, Hermes belt holding up gray pants that are a few inches too short, thus revealing brown Fendi socks and black dress shoes.
I clench my teeth. “You look good.”
