Me.
I open the door to the restaurant and am greeted by a more-than-jubilant hostess and an entirely too romantic atmosphere. Strings of large bulb lights are draped throughout the space and there’s a plethora of hanging plants, the vines dangling just above the tables. The walls are floor-to-ceiling exposed white brick, the intimate tables all have that urban, metal feel, and the wood beams that run parallel with the ceiling soften the design.
Sure... the place is nice.
I’ll give it that.
But the rest of this concept is stupid.
“Good evening, sir,” the ebullient hostess says. “You must be JP.”
Of course they know who I am. I’m sure they have pictures of every person who has been roped into a date here.
Tacking on a smile, I nod. “That would be me.”
“Wonderful. Well, your date is at the bar. Shall I introduce you, or would you like to introduce yourself?”
I glance over at the bar and see a woman in a purple dress sitting alone. I take in her long, brown hair that’s loosely curled and draped over her bare shoulders. Hmm...
Maybe this whole thing isn’tentirelystupid.
“I can introduce myself.”
“Wonderful. Have a nice evening.”
“Thank you,” I say before I make my way through the restaurant. When you sign up for the program, they make you choose an avatar, a name to represent you but isn’t your real-life name. I went with ManWearsPants, because I was too annoyed to think of anything clever, and the girl I was matched with, well...
“Hello, you must be RosesAreRed,” I say as a greeting.
She sets down her half-empty glass and turns around, almost in slow motion. I hold my breath, steeling myself for what this woman looks like, but when her face comes into view, I’m blown away by the familiar, dark-haired beauty before me.
Her smile is wide, her eyes are hopeful, and when she flicks her hair over her shoulder and looks me in the eyes... her face falls flat, her mouth turning into a thin, angry line.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she asks.
Oh man, this is fucking awesome.
Kelsey Gardner.
What are the odds?
Sticking both my hands in my pockets, I gleefully say, “I’m your date for the evening.”
Glancing over my shoulder, she seems to take a second to comprehend what’s happening and then asks, “Are you some sort of stalker who followed me here? JP, this is going way too freaking far. I’m about to go on a date with someone. I don’t want him thinking I’m here with you, so if you’d please leave—”
“ManWearsPants,” I say, and her eyes narrow.
With a quick look around, she wets her lips, leans in, and in a tight voice, she asks, “Why did you just say that?”
Oh, it’s too fucking cute watching her nose scrunch up in confusion. I was so, so wrong. This evening is going to be so much more fun than I anticipated.
“That’s my avatar. ManWearsPants, and you, my irritated shrew, are RosesAreRed, and you can deny it all you want, but this dating program thinks we’re the perfect match.”
“Well, clearly it was wrong.” The shrillness of her voice reaches a pitch nearly capable of breaking the bottles of liquor behind her. She stands from her chair, snatches her purse, and attempts to walk past me when I grab her hand.
“Excuse me, Miss Irritable, but I believe we aren’t allowed to leave the restaurant until we share a meal together. It’s in the terms and conditions.”
Her eyes flash to mine. “You can’t be serious.”
