My eyes actually prickle, and I blink quickly.
Because that’s not exactly a great first-date conversation.Don’t mind my leaking eyes. It’s because I think you’re my soulmate, and I’m so excited to have found you after all of this time.
How does this work? Does he get struck by the same thunderbolt? Or is it a one-sided thing, and I have to walk on eggshells not to scare him off?
Could there be anything worse in life than believing you’ve found your soulmate, only to discover they’re not interested in you in return?
I swallow and force myself to continue walking.
He looks up as I approach, and his eyes widen slightly behind his glasses.
I can’t help it. I smile ridiculously at him. It’s a grin that’s probably far too large given the circumstances, but I’ve apparently lost all control over my facial muscles.
Travis looks startled, his lips parting just a fraction.
“Devin?” he asks.
I wrestle my expression away from the grinning-with-alarming-enthusiam range into something hopefully more normal.
“Ah…yeah, that’s me. You must be Travis.”
He stands and offers his hand, enabling me to clock that he’s a few inches taller than my five foot ten, exactly the right height where I could tuck my head against his shoulder if we were hugging. Which is a totally normal thing to calculate within five seconds of meeting someone.
I take his hand.
His skin is warm and his hand fits mine perfectly. Apparently, my brain thinks compatible hand sizes is a thing that matters. Something tightens low in my belly at the contact, like my body’s already making plans my brain hasn’t approved.
Travis stares down at our joined hands and then glances up at me quickly. His eyes widen, and another smile spreads on my face. The corner of his lips quirk up to match mine.
Does that mean he’s feeling it as well? I put in a quick prayer to whatever deities exist, pleading with them to manipulate things so he’s feeling this connection as well.
“Ah, hi,” he says.
“It’s nice to meet you.” I’m so impressed by how I manage to keep my voice neutral. Especially given I’m basically a human sparkler inside, shooting off in twenty-one different emotional directions.
Travis drops my hand, and I immediately feel its absence.
We both sit at the same time, then there’s this moment where we’re just…looking at each other. His fingers drum once on the table, stop, then he reaches for his water glass.
“So,” Travis says, taking a sip, “I should probably confess something right away.”
Oh god. He’s married. He’s straight. He’s moving to Antarctica tomorrow. He’s?—
“I don’t usually do blind dates.” He sets his glass down precisely on the coaster. “But my brother was…insistent.”
“Insistent?” I manage, trying not to be distracted by the way he adjusts his glasses up his nose with his index finger. It’s an unconscious gesture, yet I’m suddenly very aware of his hands. Long fingers. Precise movements. My brain helpfully supplies images of what else those hands might be precise about.
“Yes, he threatened to change my Netflix password if I didn’t show up,” Travis explains. “It’s a big threat. I’m currently midway through three different documentaries.”
“Brutal. What kind of documentaries are you watching?”
“One about tax fraud, one about skyscrapers, and one about a woman who may or may not have pushed her husband off a cliff.”
“That’s quite a range. Educational, architectural, and homicidal.”
Travis smiles, and triumph surges through me. Something else also surges—a pull of want that settles warm and insistent behind my ribs. God, that smile should come with a warning label.
“I like to keep my interests diverse.” He straightens his napkin, aligning it perfectly with the edge of the table. “He also mentioned you’re a Kurt Vonnegut fan, which bumped you from ‘absolutely not’ to ‘fine, one dinner.’”
