Page 2 of See Her

“Besides the fact that he suggested dinner in the form of samples at Costco as a date?”

A pause follows on her end before a monotone “You’re shitting me.”

“It’s the whole app, honestly,” I continue forth when that revelation is met with a despondent scoff. “The majority of these guys aren’t even serious.”

“Tell me about it,” she agrees. “With all the dick pics I’ve gotten, I don’t know why these winners bother using their faces as their profile pictures.”

A laugh bubbles out of my chest, and I can’t control it. It bursts from between my lips and I try to contain it before I draw too much attention to myself, but this bitch won’t stop.

“Seriously, since these guys like to show their wangs so much, they should just post that as their profile pic and women can go man shopping according to penis aesthetic.”

My stomach muscles are constricting to a painful extent, and tears are forming at the corners of my eyes in my efforts to not make a scene.

“And when they show up to a date, they have to drop their pants to prove you’re not being phished.”

“Do you mind? I’m in public!” I squeak out between belly laughs. I can feel my cheeks turning pink.

“Calm down, Mayzie,” my horrible best friend cynically chides in my ear. “Don’t make a testicle of yourself.”

“Stop!” I run a hand through my hair, trying so hard to compose myself, and of course, that’s when I look up and see who’s come into the café.

My spurts of laughter are stifled in my stomach when my world tilts and shifts sideways at the sight in front of me.

He has long, sandy brown bangs hanging in straight, silky strands that he tosses out of his eyes, but it’s the warm, amused smile aimed in my direction that sends a pang up my spine.

Oh my God, he heard my obnoxious laugh and he thinks I’m ridiculous.

The thought seems to do the trick for squashing my laughing fit, and I nervously clear my throat. Annie babbles on in my ear as I take in the rest of what I just blew it with.

I’ve never seen a guy like this before, at least not in real life, and a certain essence seems to drift off him and breeze over to me.

From the way he stands at the counter, I can tell he’s laid back and confident just from the way he carries his tall frame – straight but with his shoulders relaxed.He casually looks around while he waits for his order, and my eyes are drawn to the way he’s lightly drumming his knuckles on the counter in perfect time with the beat of the mellow background music. Itseems so natural that he doesn’t even appear aware he’s doing it. It’s endearing. It makes me inwardly smile to myself.

He has a swimmer’s body, with lean arms that are toned and muscular. Tattoos peek out from under the short-sleeved black button-down he’s wearing open over a black tank top which shows the top of another tattoo on his chest, accented by a cross hanging from a silver chain. My attention is then drawn to his dark, worn jeans as he reaches in his back pocket for his wallet (my inner idiot is biting her fist right now).

My eyes definitely like what they see. He has a bad boy look to him, and it’s almost intimidating.But when he picks up his coffee, he gives the barista a friendly nod and a faint smile, revealing that same dimple again.

Well damn if that doesn’t give my insides the slightest little glow.He seems so cool, yet there’s a warmth about him. He hasn’t uttered a word to me, yet I can feel myself blushing. It’s a good feeling, and it makes me wonder what it would be like to know someone like him;if I’d get that feeling from them all the time.

As he steps away from the counter, he turns his back, walking in the direction of a few empty tables, taking a quick glance at me over his shoulder and giving me a quick lift of his eyebrows.

“Hellloooo?”Annie shrills in my ear.

Oh my God, I just had a mini stroke or left my body for a second, because I startle, remembering I’m on the phone with her.

“Sorry, say that again?” I ask, forcing myself to look away from the tatted fantasy man.

“I said, forget the app and meet someone in the real world.”

“Ha-ha.” I roll my eyes because she forgets my confidence doesn’t exactly match hers.

“I’m serious, you can do it,” she says around a bagel or whatever she’s just shoved in her mouth. “You’ve worked really hardand come a long way since that limp-dick-assface, and I’m very proud of you.”

“Yay.”

“In fact, do it today. Talk to somebody! No, wait, notsomebody, because I know you too well. You’ll say hi to a girl and comment on her hair and clothes or some other small talk bullshit and you’ll tell me you did talk to somebody… so I’m gonna specify that you talk to a guy, and not just any guy – a hot guy somewhere in a dateable age range, and not a geriatric whose idea of a hot date is bingo at the local senior center. Oh no, young grasshopper, the guy must be grade A prime. And don’t even think of lying to me, because I can tell when you do.”

“Oh my God, come on!” I protest like an insolent teenager. “That’s not fair! I never know what to say to anybody at random, let alone a tall and toned, tatted, handsomely edgy man, and you know that!”

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