What would our second meeting be like?
Would it be like the poets always write about, where I become his person, and he becomes mine?
Seven
Like every great romance,the second meet-cute needs to be as great as the first, if not, evenbetter.
Diane, Kiara and I spend most of our lunch break devising a game plan for this second meeting. It needs to be memorable. Iconic.
“Try reaching for a book that’s way too high for you so he can run to help you,” Kiara suggests coyly with a wink, biting into a french fry. “It’s a classic move.”
“Or,” Diane begins, leaning forward, “Just straight up ask for his number. Easy-peasy.”
I’m leaning more toward Kiara’s suggestion, since my flirting skills definitely donotreach the level of confidently asking for someone’s number.
“Are you sure he’s working today?” Kiara interjects.
Oh, I’m sure.
This morning, before class, I’d peeked in through the Books and Bricks window, taking a sneaky detour to ensure I passed the bookstore. I didn’t expect I’d see him, but there he was, rearranging books at the centre table, with his sandy, 90s heartthrob,Titanic-Leonardo-Dicapriohair.
I had to quickly hurry away when he turned his head, likely sensing my Joe Goldberg energy.
“Maybe Idon’task him out just yet,” I say, continuing from Diane and Kiara’s suggestions. This earns a groan from Diane. “But, maybe Iwilldo the whole reaching-for-the-book trick.”
Diane leans backward, pouting, “Boo, we need to get to the juicy parts already. And besides, you look hot today, he wouldn’t be able to resist.”
Not that I’d choose hot as the adjective, but Iamquite proud of my fit. I was definitely feeling a little more frisky in choosing a semi-midriff top with my pink corduroy skirt. Really, though, it’s the Doc Martens that makes me look hot. Anyone wearing Doc Martens is instantly hot.
Still, I feel my cheeks colour, and I flick my head midair, “Ohstop it you.”
The two of them chuckle in amusement.
Truthfully, for a hopeless romantic, I am still quite inexperienced in the actual ‘romantic’department. I’ve never had a boyfriend, unless you count the three-hour failure of Ralph, or the other time, where a boy liked me for only a week. I shudder again at the memory. Overall, the perfect romance needed to follow the perfect script.
That’s just the rules.
“Just be yourself,” Kiara whispers to me, once the lecture reaches an end.
She doesn’t yet know how crazy I am, though. I’m certain that if she got to truly know how hopeless of a romantic I am, she wouldn’t be telling me to be myself.
“Go get him, tiger,” Diane coos as we exit the building.
“Use protection,” Kiara adds, and I push her playfully.
I’m quite confident in myself, strutting in my boots all the way to Books and Bricks, until I reach the glass doors.
That’s when thewhat ifsflood in.
What ifhe finds me a weirdo, for visiting a second day in a row?
What ifhe ignores me?
Worse of all,what ifhe’s already taken?
The adrenaline keeping me afloat begins to deflate, leaving me to drown in my nervousness.
Thoughts begin to branch outwards at all the possible ways this second meeting could go wrong. I shake my head and inhale deeply.
