Page 74 of Reel Love

“Okay, Guru, go get ready for your surf lesson. They’ll be here any minute,” Kai says. He turns to me. “I’m happy for you. Can’t wait to hear how this goes.”

I swallow the newly formed lump in my throat. I’ve never been so nervous for a date in my life. So much feels like it’s riding on this encounter. We’ve got rapport and ease between us online. Will that carry over into real life? And if things flop in person, will we stop playing Play on Words together?

As if he can read my mind, Kai adds, “Don’t be nervous. She already likes you. When she sees you, she’s going to think she hit the jackpot. You’re a good man. Go have a night with a woman you’ve been getting to know. It’s not complicated unless you make it that way.”

“Right. Thanks.”

I smile at Kai and then I leave for the afternoon. I’ve only got two hours until our date, or not-date, or whatever it is.

I arrive at Cucina Descanso at five forty-five. The hostess tells me to pick any booth or table. I opt for a bistro table for two near the window. Cucina is nestled within a row of shops facing the beach just south of the resort. The sun isn’t setting yet, but we’ll have a good view of the water from our table.

“Can I get you something while you wait? Bread basket? A drink?” the waiter asks.

“I’m fine with water for now. I’m expecting someone. I’ll wait for her.”

“Let me know if you change your mind.”

I watch tourists and locals cycle and walk by outside the window. The waves break in the distance. Beneath the waves, an entire universe exists where no one waits nervously for their anonymous crush to arrive for pizza. No wonder I feel more at home underwater. It’s a far more straightforward world down there.

Five minutes pass. Then ten. Fifteen. It’s only six. She’ll be on time if she walks through the door right now. I have a good view of the entry and hostess stand, but I’ve been staring out at the beach, so I glance around to be sure I didn’t miss her. Why didn’t we exchange names or at least give one another descriptions of what we look like?

I know why I didn’t. It felt more mysterious at the time—like some movie my sister and mom would force me to sit through where the guy’s at a table and in walks the love of his life and they know instantly when their eyes meet:that’s the one.

I glance at the door and am beyond surprised when I see Alana walk in. She’s wearing those large sunglasses—the ones only she could carry off while still looking beautiful—and her hair is held back by a multi-colored scarf that’s tied at the nape of her neck, curls recklessly falling behind the scarf past her shoulders. It’s so obviously her, but maybe only to me. I’m torn as to whether to wave, or stand and greet her, or leave her alone. I’m soshocked to see her out on this side of the island, and at a restaurant where anyone could spot her.

I stay seated. She may want to feel invisible. I don’t want to intrude on her night.

She looks around as if she’s searching for someone. My eyes are on her. How can they not be? She’s in a simple pair of dark jeans that flare at the bottom. Heels. A crisp white oxford-style shirt with wide lapels. She looks like Jackie Onassis, only with blond curly hair. Elegant, stately, effortlessly gorgeous. And, also confused. Is the person she’s meeting not here?

I glance around the room, silently assisting her search. No one. I’m the only man here alone. The rest of the room is filled with couples and a few four-tops of friends. It’s not busy yet, but it will be bustling within the hour.

It’s obvious the moment she sees me. Her face softens with a smile.

She says something to the hostess and then approaches my table.

When she’s near enough, I stand.

Her face appears partially relieved but she also looks a little concerned. “Stevens, what are you doing here?”

“Oh. I'm meeting a friend.”

“Oh.” Alana looks around again.

“The bigger question is: what are you doing here? I didn’t think you’d be out in public like this without being under duress.” I smile at her, hoping to ease the part of her that definitely is riddled with nerves. “Areyou under duress? Blink twice if you are.”

She laughs. Oh, that laugh. It’s fleeting, but still as sweet as ever.

“I’m … uh … meeting a friend too."

From the way her cheeks pinken just the slightest, I get the feeling this is a man-friend.

“Is he running late?” I ask, my eyes sweeping the room again.

“Apparently. And, your friend? Is she running late?”

“You assume it’s a woman.”

“And you assumed it’s a man.”

---