Page 2 of Hidden Desire

“Not a damn thing. Work has been light.” She groaned. “But hey, what are you gonna do? That’s why God invented shopping, right?” Ariel laughed from the other end of the line. “Wanna meet up with me and splurge on stuff we don’t need?”

If work was light, then Ariel should have been home conserving, but that wasn’t either of their style. “Honestly?” Stassi took another sip. “Couldn’t think of a better way to spend my day.”

“Fantastic!” Ariel’s excitement came through the phone. “Pick you up in ten?”

“Works for me, but I’m at Roma’s. Pick me up there.” She disconnected the call and took another sip, this one longer. She heaved a sigh and leaned back. Her eyes made their way to a table just a few over. A woman had a magazine in her hand, and Stassi smirked. Page twenty-two is a four-page layout where she proudly wears an outfit from a new fashion line. The woman could look up and spot her at any moment, recognizing her from the few pictures. She wouldn’t call herself vain, but she appreciated when people admired her work and wouldn’t have objected if this was one of those times. Before too much time had passed, though, the door swung open, and Ariel entered. The moment had gone. But there’d be other moments.

Sage

The woman in front of her stared aimlessly, to the point where Sage wondered if she had fallen asleep with her eyes open. Sage cleared her throat, looked down at her half-eaten food, and then back up at the woman. Greta curved her lips slightly before looking down and rifling through her salad again. Well, there went the idea that she had fallen asleep. But if the date didn’t end soon, Sage Pembroke was likely to.

“So, Greta,” she began. “We’ve been here an hour, and I don’t feel like I hardly know you.” Sage attempted her best shot at a smile. “Tell me a little about yourself. Your goals? Aspirations?” Sage gave a slight shrug. “Whatever you desire to share…” She hoped she could encourage her to say anything.

Greta looked up, and Sage swore she saw her face turn from a cheery red to ghost white. “Not much to tell. Haven’t really given thoughts and stuff a….” She shrugged, “thought.” She giggled lightly. From the moment they met on Wednesday evening, Sage could say that it was the first time that Greta even cracked a smile. Sage wondered if Greta even had one ounce of personality. For that, she was able to appreciate it. However, Greta was thirty-eight, or so she was told if you’re thirty-eight and have no plan or vision for your life, that causes questions.

“I hear you work at The Golden Eye Boutique,” Sage continued. “You must have a flare or passion for clothing. Tell me about that.”

Greta shrugged. “Not much to say. It pays the bills, at least most of them.” She laughed, then snapped her mouth shut. “Just kidding. Um yeah, it makes up for the bills.” If that was Greta’s attempt at a joke, it flopped. Sage stared at it, practically dumbfounded. Greta continued. “The hours aren’t bad, but I have to work most weekends. Guess it’s just what is laid out for me.”

And she had no drive to find her purpose. That was painfully clear.

Greta then offered, “You’re an Occupational Therapist, Marcus said. Is that right?”

“Um yeah, going on twelve years.” Sage continued to stare at Greta. Greta’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “It’s a passion of mine,” Sage continued.

“I just can’t imagine doing anything for that long and still enjoying it.” Greta released a huff. “You enjoy it?”

“Enjoy the job? Absolutely. Enjoy the patients? Wouldn’t have it any other way. Working with them gives me great joy.” Sage frowned. “It’s a true passion of mine. Don’t you wish you had something you held dear to your heart? I mean workwise, of course.”

Greta shrugged again. “Guess it just never really been something I felt the urge to go out and seek. I’m happy with where I am.” Then a slight smirk appeared on her lips. “Would be happier if I had a woman to share it with. Hence, why I’m out on this blind date, but I assume you feel the same.”

At that moment, Sage wasn’t quite sure why she had agreed to the blind date. Did she wish she had someone to share her life with? Of course. Anyone would be lying if they said they didn’t want to have a companion in their life. But Sage had tried that in the past. Found someone that she thought she could spend the rest of her life with. Ultimately, it ended poorly, shattering Sage’s beliefs and desires that she needed a woman in her life. That was six years earlier. Eventually, it was necessary to get back out on the horse, and when her co-worker Marcus said he knew someone she needed to get to know, Sage went for it. Now, foolishly, she saw exactly why she had decided to remain single. And blind dates? She wasn’t cut out for them.

“And how do you think this blind date is going?” Sage wondered out loud.

Greta’s eyes widened, and there was a hint of a sparkle. For an hour, she hadn’t seen any excitement or joy in Greta’s appearance or movements. She had been seated before a woman that appeared boring and uninterested. Now, there was a light in her eyes, a smile on her lips, and confusion in Sage.

“I would say that Marcus knows my type.” Greta was the sister of Marcus’ boyfriend. Sage thought it was important to agree to the date, so it kept harmony in Marcus’ relationship, but if she was Greta’s type, then Sage wasn’t sure about many things. Sage didn’t know if she had a type herself, but she wouldn’t have said Greta was that. Sage wanted to find someone with a passion or drive to stand up for something they wanted. That felt like the complete opposite of what Sage thought she wanted. Not to mention, Greta’s looks weren’t the drop-dead gorgeous type. She had potential, but Greta was more of a Plain Jane type. Sage wanted the type of woman to stand out in a crowd and have other people talking. Greta blushed. “You’re staring.” She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and looked down.

Sage looked down at her food, her stomach clenching, her appetite completely gone. “Look, Greta. I need to be really honest here. You seem nice enough. I’m just not sure that we’re really the right for each other.”

Greta arched an eyebrow. “One date can’t tell a person that. I’m an introvert by nature and can open up once we get to know each other.”

“That’s just it,” Sage continued. “You’re an introvert, and I’m just not. It would never work out.”

Sage reached into her purse, fumbling for her wallet.

“But you’ll give it another try to see. Right?” More enthusiasm seemed to well up inside Greta. Where this was during the whole date was beyond Sage, but it was a little too late.

“I’m sorry.” Sage grabbed her wallet and pulled out some money, then tossed it on the table. It was plenty to cover their meals, and Sage was ready to bolt. “I don’t think I’m ready to date or anything. And this just wouldn’t work out. I wish you all the best.” She stood up and waited, but Greta just shook her head and stared back at her salad. “Goodbye,” Sage mumbled. She hurried towards the front door. She hesitated at a table, feeling slightly regretful about being rude. She turned around and found Greta was busy eating her salad. If she had shrugged it off, Sage didn’t feel so bad. She turned and bumped straight into a woman coming through the front door. “My apologies,” Sage began.

Sage hesitated and stared at the woman. She had shoulder-length bleach-blonde hair in waves and curved around her face. Her brown eyes were wide and had gold specks that accentuated them. She would never want to leave the table if she had been sitting in front of this woman. Her beauty was breathtaking and captivated her senses, especially how the younger woman smirked.

“No worries,” she said, then brushed past Sage and rushed off to a table. Sage stood there, staring off in the direction the woman had gone. The woman sat down at a table with another woman, and they immediately started laughing. Sage shook her head. Most likely a girlfriend. The good ones were always taken. She turned and left the club, digging for her keys.

She unlocked her car and slid into the driver’s seat, instantly pushing the call button on her car’s Bluetooth. “Call Lena!”

“Calling Lena,” the phone chimed in. It rang two times before Lena answered.

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