Page 15 of The Match Faker

“I’ll take the next song, Nick,” the other bartender says as he slips behind the bar again. She glances in my direction in a way I assume is meant to be stealthy but isn’t, especially when she winks.

His cheeks flush and he mutters something that sounds like “Shut it, Bernie.”

Even though he sealed his fate by scheduling our date while he was on shift, watching him get flustered about it is still cute. Incredibly so.

“So, you’re Nick,” I say when he takes his spot across from me again. “I’m Jasmine.”

I hold out my hand. Hopefully, a firm shake will convey how I’d like the rest of this date to go. Because even though he’s charming and attractive, the algorithm definitely got this match wrong. It’s notjustthat I have to sit here and watch him work for who knows how long; he’s just not my type. I can’t date abartender. Our schedules would never align. Co-workers and patrons probably flirt with him constantly. The hint of a smile that seems permanently etched onto his face, while hot—hello, dimple—also makes it appear as if he’s always joking. Even now, a heartbeat after a flicker of confusion passes over his face when he looks down at my proffered hand, the smile reappears. It’s accompanied by a Peter Pan–like twinkle in his eyes that confirms this would never work.

Plus, with the turnover in the industry, there’s basically no such thing as stability or security in bartending.

But that doesn’t mean the whole date has to be a bust.

Instead of shaking, he gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s nice to meet you, Jasmine,” he says in a voice that’s almost too low, too quiet to be heard over the woman butchering Mel B’s lines.

“So, listen.” I lean forward and he mirrors me and whoops I didn’t actually mean to bring my mouth this close to his.

Backing up a fraction, I say, “I don’t want to waste your time or mine.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“You seem very nice but it’s probably not a perfect match.”

A crease forms between his brows. “Is that a requirement for you?”

“I mean, it would be ideal, yeah.” Especially considering how pricey this service is. “But what are you doing next weekend? Specifically, Saturday night.”

He shakes his head, the frown deepening. “I…I…don’t know? Working probably?”

“Do you think you could get the night off? I know it’s a big ask when all you know about me is my first name and that I’m looking for a match,” I say quickly as his face morphs from confused to incredulous. “I have this engagement party I have to go to. It’s kind of a long story but I need a date. I think you’d be good for that.”

He’s handsome and easy to talk to, the perfect person to bring to an event where I’m determined to prove that I’m not the trash my ex-boyfriend so obviously thinks I am.

“Do you have a suit?”

“I do,” he says slowly. “But…”

“I can take your shift.” Bernie, the other bartender, pops up over his shoulder. “In case you were asking him on a date?” she asks me. Her smile is large and mischievous, her voice almost singsong with delight.

“I guess, technically, I was.”

“He looks excellent in a suit.” She drops her chin on his shoulder.

Nick brushes her off like a long-suffering older brother, which only endears him, them, all of this to me even more. I know what it’s like to be annoyed by while also at the whim of another.

“That’s great. So, what do you think?” I ask. “Will you be my date?”

4

NICK

What the hell is going on?

One moment, we’re flirting…I think…the next I’m getting turned down, despite not having even asked her out. And she did it in a strangely familiar way, as if we know each other. That’s fine, she owes me nothing, but my ego didn’t even have time to feel the bruise when she asked me to be her date. A platonic date, if I’m reading this correctly, where I am quite literally filling a blank space.

Also, she’s looking for matches? I think we have a few matchbooks somewhere.

Behind me, Bernie’s excitement is electric. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as she practically vibrates. She will have a play-by-play of this entire interaction in the group chat the second she takes her first break. Thankfully, a patron calls for service down the bar and she has to peel herself away from my back.

---