Accidental Blind Date: Chapter 1

Libby- Is it too late to back out of a blind date?

Joni- More like too early! And it’s not a blind date. You know what he looks like.

Libby- Barely. He had one profile picture. And it was black and white, and he wasn’t even facing the camera. And I think I’m gonna puke.

Joni- LOL. You’ll be fine. I have your location and I’m literally right down the street. Just breathe. You know what they say…

Libby- No. I don’t. What do they say?

Joni- The first date after divorce is the hardest. And the best…

I put my phone away because if my best friend and I talk about it anymore, I am for sure going to puke all over the chips and salsa I haven’t touched.

And it’s not even that they don’t look good.

Tony’s Cantina is quite possibly the most posh, swanky little Mexican place I’ve ever been to. Come to think of it– Boston has a lot to offer that I’ve never experienced.

My ex wasn’t a big ‘eat out’ kind of a guy (in both the restaurant sense of the term…or the other thing…). He was too worried about counting macros and getting your morning vitamin D before 9am so that it “actually counts”.

But I don’t want to focus on Shane either.

I am here because Joni has been nagging me for months about “putting myself back out there” and “getting laid for my own benefit.’ Because of that, this date is posed as just that– a let’s see what happens?

I might be dense in the dating world, but I do know what that means…

If dinner goes well, we are hooking up.

“Hey!” the bartender approaches the table, and I force a smile.

She’s nice enough so it’s not too difficult, despite feeling the overwhelming urge to crawl under the table. “My name is Madeline. What can I get you to drink?”

“A gin and tonic. Please.”

“Do you want a regular one or the house?”

“What’s the difference?” I ask curiously.

“The house has muddled fruit in it.”

“Oh, I’ll take one of those!” I smile. Because I don’t do anything plain. Being a little excentric has always been my MO. It’s why the whole bookstore owner vibe suits me so well. I’m quirky to say at the least.

“I got you. Are you waiting on someone?” she asks.

“I am. A date. Not a boyfriend though. It’s a blind date. From a dating app. I never do this…” The words come spewing out of me and my cheeks flush before I let out a nervous giggle.

“I see. Well, that’s exciting.”

“Yeah…or something. You know…I haven’t been on a date since I got divorced. Back when my ex and I got married, online dating wasn’t as popular as it is now.”

“The old days were golden, weren’t they?” she asks and I laugh, loud and unapologetic because that’s also just kind of who I am.

“Now you have to match with someone and then figure out what they’re looking for. I don’t even know what I’m looking for to be honest.”

“I don’t think a lot of people do, love,” she says, and I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse. “Just…see how it goes. And whatever you feel like doing at the end of the night…do it.”

“Do it,” I repeat. “Just…whatever that is?”

“Whatever that is,” she says as she shoves her pen back in her apron. “You wanna say goodbye forever and move on? No shame. You wanna snag a hotel room and forget who you are for an evening? No shame in that either. The nice thing about the golden era being dead?” she leans in a little, “Double standards died with it.”

I smile. I like her. She’s real.

But I’m still nervous as hell.

Because honestly? I’m not really interested in getting laid.

Which is probably half the reason I would rather barf on the chips and three kinds of salsa than eat them right now.

Because isn’t it kind of implied that on a first dating app date, that you hook up?

I don’t know these things.

I got married young. Too young.

And we didn’t sleep together until we were married.

Oh, the naivety.

I pull the app back up on my phone and click on my matches. There’s only one because even with Joni’s help, I wasn’t just going to swipe right every time a hot guy popped up. Swiping right means you’re a bitch unless you talk to them and I’m not really ready for that kind of responsibility.

I also don’t believe in accepting drinks from randos at a bar either.

In other words…I have no idea what I am doing. Which is most likely the culprit of feeling very unprepared right now.

Jax’s profile consists of literally one photo. It’s black and white. He’s standing with his back to the camera (red flag number one), his arms braced on a banister of some kind, his head turned to the side, giving the camera only a silhouette of his actual face (red flag number two). It’s hard to tell his body type from the angle and lighting but if I had to guess- he’s a gym bro. That, and the number of red flags just listed, makes my stomach sour a little.

Shane cared about nothing more than the gym. He also weighed thirty pounds less than me because he eats nothing but canned tuna and sauteed tofu. Oh, and kale. So. Much. Kale.

I set my phone face down and cover my face with my hands.

I need to get my shit together.

I look good.

I’m wearing a yellow dress, my favorite dress actually, and black and white polka-dotted heels.

I may not be a Becky, but I do love me some cute heels.

The food smells promising. The night is young or whatever they say and there is a man named Jax with nice forearms and a jawline that could split a coconut in two showing up any minute who is here to see me.

I am single and ready to mingle.

Time passes, and I wait.

I was early so I’m not too worried.

Until our meeting time is in the rearview mirror by a good ten minutes.

Then twenty.

Then a half an hour.

I’m not really sure at this point what I am supposed to do.

Do I text him and seem too eager?

Do I give him some grace?

It is Friday after all, and everyone knows how bad Boston traffic is.

I finish my drink and eat a chip because honestly, I am hungry. It’s dinner time and we are supposed to be having dinner. At least…I think that was the plan? I can’t imagine him choosing a place like this, expecting sex but not buying me food.

My phone buzzes and I look down to see a text from Joni.

Joni:?

I don’t want to send a thumbs down. She’ll think I’m hogtied in the back of some rando’s trunk. But at the same time, I’d say getting ghosted is absolutely a thumbs down.

“Another drink?” Madeline asks, suddenly standing next to the table. Her smile has shifted from friendly to bittersweet. She knows.

“Yeah. Fuck it. Make it a double.”

She nods and walks away and I sigh, leaning back in my chair.

I guess this one’s on me.

Not that I can’t afford it. I have money, I just prefer to be thrifty. And I work hard. I do deserve to be treated…even if I am treating myself.

I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head, trying to wish away the feeling of loneliness and rejection washing over me.

Then suddenly, there’s someone standing next to me.

He’s tall.

Very tall.

He’s also muscular.

Like…the man could double for Chris Hemsworth in Thor muscular.

His blonde hair (with a dash of silver) is cut very professional, very sleek and he’s clean shaven.

His jawline is strong, maybe even strong enough to split a coconut, (just like his forearms), though it is more rectangular than I’d pictured.

I squeeze my thighs tighter under the table, half because this skirt is shorter than I typically prefer and half because I might be just a tiny bit wet down there.

But I never said that.

Also, kudos to me. I didn’t even know the water works still had a functioning valve.

But what really has my jaw dropping and my panties in a knot is the fact that he is standing over me, holding two drinks, looking right at me.

I look over and find that this man, this Viking of a man, has his gaze locked on me like a fighter pilot.

With that, my heart jackrabbits in my chest.

He came in hot and I’m not sure if the runway is clear for landing.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, and I’m pretty sure his voice is the same consistency as gravel. It’s an interesting contrast to his put-together persona. I don’t hate it. “I didn’t realize you were here yet. I went to the bar to get us drinks. I’m Jax.”

I realize I am still sitting here, my finger’s pinching a debit card because I was about to start a tab for myself, my wallet wide open.

His eyes trail down to my hand and his lips quirk in the corners. “Did you think I wasn’t going to show?”

“No, I just, I–” I shake my head and stand up to shake his hand. That’s what you do on a first date, right? Shake hands? I mentally kick myself for not looking up the protocol. “I’m Libby. Obviously.”

But before I can do or say anything else to make this immeasurably more awkward, Jax pulls me into a brief hug.

He smells like cinnamon and pepper and something sweeter.

He’s also no less than six four because even in my heels, the top of my head barely hits his shoulder.

We stand there awkwardly for a moment before I realize he is waiting for me to take my seat again before he will sit down.

A gentleman?

Who would have thought.

As he hands me my drink I narrow my eyes down at it. “How did you know this was my drink order?” I ask.

“We talked about it, didn’t we? On the app?”

My eyes, still skeptical, drag from the muddled gin and tonic up to his face. “No…I don’t think we did.”

Jax smiles, the warmest, sexiest smile that has ever been smiled at me in my life and I swear to God I am going to have to change my panties soon if he keeps this up. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m nervous. You just look beautiful, and my brain is glitching. Can you remind me again…what we did talk about?”

“The rules,” I say. “The rules for the date.”

“Rules for the date,” Jax leans in on his forearms, which by the way, look even better than his profile pic. And that’s saying a lot because they were utterly phenomenal in that photo. “So, I’m going to be completely honest with you. I was so nervous I got here early and sat in the back just to have a little pre-game drink to calm my nerves. And now that you’re here, now that I am looking at you… I’m going to need a refresher on those rules too.”

“Of course,” I say with a giggle because I’m fairly certain I’ve been reverse cat-fished if that’s even a thing. Then I pull my phone out and click on the app’s messaging. “How about we refresh both our memories?” I ask. Because I am struggling too. So, I read the rules off.

Neither of us are looking for anything serious.

We are not expected to tell each other anything about our pasts.

He’s paying for the date, no exceptions.

“I guess that means you’re going to have to put that card away,” he says, and I physically feel myself blush. “I guess so.”

“This looks good,” he says, dunking a chip in one of the salsas. I’m not sure which. The bartender had said something about one being mild, one being medium, and one being hot, but I was too busy mentally marking all the emergency exits and trying to keep my legs crossed to remember which is which. “Aren’t you going to have any?”

I look at him.

There’s a kindness in those blue eyes, even if he does look like an undercover assassin, and even a hint of curiosity.

Then I look down at the food and my stomach rumbles. I haven’t had anything but water today.

The last thing I wanted was for the zipper on my dress to snap.

“I was waiting for you,” I say with a smile. “I didn’t want to be rude.” I dunk a chip into the same salsa as he did, and the flavor explodes in my mouth.

“You don’t strike me as someone who could ever be rude,” he says and I stop, looking up at him and chewing slower.

“Clearly you haven’t talked to me before I have coffee in the morning.”

With that, Jax chuckles. It’s playful and gritty and it makes me smile. I reach for my drink and take a long sip, enjoying the berries, juniper and fizz.

“I’m not going to lie,” he says. “I was nervous tonight.”

“You?” I ask, covering my mouth to hide the fact it is full of chips. “Why would you be nervous?”

“Because I haven’t been on a date in…a long time. Is that too much information?”

I shake my head. But I also zero a skeptical look in on his perfectly chiseled face. “I have a hard time believing that.”

“It’s true. I don’t get out much. I go to work, I go home. That’s about it.”

“And the gym,” I add and then blush.

He smiles, those icy blue eyes of his dancing with some kind of mischief. “How did you know?”

Because your forearms are bigger than my ex’s thighs. For real– you don’t get muscles like that from eating kale.

“Just a lucky guess.”

He nods and takes a sip of his whiskey and for a split second I can see resemblance to the profile picture.

Definitely the same guy.

“Do I look like my photos?” he asks as if the man is a freaking mind reader.

“You mean photo?” I ask, an emphasis on the singularity of it. “You look…” Better? Unrealistic? Photoshopped? “Like I got reverse cat-fished.”

He narrows his eyes to process that. “So…my profile picture was ugly?”

A high-pitched laugh bubbles out of my throat, loud enough to momentarily snag the attention of our fellow diners. But Jax doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, he goes on.

“Well, I feel the same. For what it’s worth.”

A lot. It’s worth a lot.

And it makes me nervous.

We order food. Jax gets carne asada fajitas and I get bang bang shrimp tacos with a side of elote. Meanwhile, the conversation flows as freely as the next round of cocktails.

“I say we play twenty questions,” he says, grabbing a fresh chip as the waitress sets a new basket down.

“I think that’s going against the rules.”

“We didn’t say we can’t get to know each other. We just said no past information. What brought us here, things like that.”

“What brought me here was my best friend forcing me to sign up for the First Pick app,” I mutter and then bite my lips. A smile crawls across Jax’s lips. “Oops.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I was kind of forced to be here too,” he holds up a hand. A very large hand. “Not that I didn’t want to be. I just have these…advisors…who thought it was a good idea for me to go out tonight, even though I wasn’t in a very good mood.”

“Advisors, huh?” I ask as our food arrives. “Alright, first question. Do you always listen to these advisors?”

“Usually. They know what’s best for me, even when I don’t.”

I nod. I’m not sure if they’re siblings, friends, co-workers. A therapist maybe?

“My turn,” Jax says as he grabs a tortilla to build a fajita. “If you weren’t here, where would you be?”

“Work.”

“Which is…”

“Too deep of a question,” I answer and he smiles.

“Right.”

We go back and forth like a tennis match, taking turns answering questions that bounce off the surfaces of our lives like skipping-stones on a pond but no deeper. I learn that he hates sports (odd for his persona) and he learns that I hate scary movies but love horror books. He doesn’t like cats, but they love him. I think meditation music is anxiety sparking. He knows all the words to every song on Frozen.

“Honstly, it’s hard to go anywhere without being flash mobbed by Idina Menzel’s voice,” I tell him. “It’s like she’s everywhere.”

“Everywhere,” he agrees, and we both realize it’s that time. The cantina is hopping and on a wait. We are in a prime section, and the bartender is coming by to ask if we need anything else frequently. It’s our cue to leave and she seems very invested in us. It’s also going to open the night up for debate on what’s next.

Jax pays as he said he would, and we make our way outside. The autumn air is warm still from the edges of summer, but the night breeze is starting to settle in. I take a deep breath, my nerves buzzing.

“So…” he says.

“So. I guess this is goodbye,” I say back.

Jax shoves his hands in his pockets with ease. “It doesn’t have to be.”

I swallow and straighten up a little. “I’m not going to have sex with you.”

Jax doesn’t even flinch. “We don’t have to.”

“No. We don’t. And that’s not why I am here. I am here because–” I stop. We aren’t supposed to disclose that. Fuck.

“Because of your friend and my advisors. I know. But that doesn’t mean the night has to be over. I had an amazing time with you, Libby. I’d be sad if we just walked away at that.”

I stare right at him.

Well…up at him.

The man is a giant.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, Jax. You could easily say anything you want in the hopes of this going somewhere else. But that’s not going to happen.”

“And I respect that. I also enjoyed myself and don’t get to do that very often and honestly, I don’t really want this night to be over yet. But I will respect it if you do.”

“Oh really? And if I go to your hotel with you, then what?”

“I’ll make you a drink if you want one. Other than that, you call the shots.”

“What’s the catch?”

“I don’t know anything about your life, and you don’t know anything about mine. I don’t know what you have to do when you wake up in the morning. Who depends on you, what your days look like when the gears are grinding. The only thing I know is that we are both here for a reason.”

“Yeah because we were forced against our wills to use First Pick.” I’m joking but I’m not.

“But we didn’t have to stay this long. And yet…here we are. So, I’ll say it again. I’m having a great time, and I’d like a nightcap. You call the shots, including your answer to this question. Either way, even if we are saying goodnight…I’m glad we did this.”

I should walk to my car. I should leave the date right where it’s at and let it be.

But…I kind of don’t want it to be over either.

Jax is waiting patiently for an answer, looking at me, the stars, a group of college kids walking by, then back at me.

I’m still on the fence. Do I want a night where I can just forget about my life, where I can forget about what tomorrow holds and the grasp of the past? Sure.

But I also remind myself definitely no sex.

That would require getting naked.

And that is off the table.

Or bed.

Or any other surface.