Page 27 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

“Brody, you’ll be fine.” Miles ignores my lack of confidence and pats my thigh roughly before dropping his hand between us. “Hey, I have to cancel our movie Wednesday.”

“Why?” I don’t hide my disappointment and Miles winces.

“I’ve got a shoot. I tried to get him to reschedule,but he can’t.”

I can’t stop taking deep breaths, inhaling as much air as possible, and then exhaling slowly, through pursed lips. My mind runs through everything that could go wrong and I drag my hand through my hair again, letting it fall slightly lopsided. The first outfit I tried on in Moira’s shop was Miles’ favorite, paired with the brown oxfords.

Am I already sweating?

I lift my arms, but there’s no moisture visible.

I leave the studio–Miles wanted me to see how I looked in the full-length mirror–and head out to the living room where my roommate is waiting with his arms crossed, leaning against the back of the couch. One corner of his mouth lifts in a lopsided grin as he looks me up and down.

“Last looks.” I hold out my arms and turn slowly.

“This girl’s not gonna know what hit her,” Miles chuckles. “Have fun, man. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“How long’s that list? Three things?”

“Four.” Miles is still grinning as I walk past him to grab my wallet and keys from the kitchen counter.

“See you later.”

“See you tomorrow!” he shouts as I close the door behind me.

The brewery isn’t far and when I pull into the lot around the corner, I’m still fifteen minutes early. How long do I wait? Is Sophie like me? Does she arrive early everywhere she goes?

I scan the lot, but it’s more than half full. I can’t see every car, every driver’s seat. There’s no way to know for sure if she’s doing exactly what I’m doing now. I hope she’s not. Feeling her eyes on me as I walk in would definitely make me stumble.

Five minutes pass before I decide I can’t wait any longer. I quickly slip from the car and walk at a brisk pace to reach the front door of the restaurant with its dark, industrial vibes.

The hostess grins up at me from behind the wooden podium, her eyes shining from beneath dark bangs.

“Welcome, sir. How many?”

“I actually have a reservation,” I mumble, then clear my throat. “Torrence,for two at six o’clock.”

The young woman looks down at a list in front of her, scanning it with her eyes and her index finger until she lands on what she’s looking for.

“Would you like to be seated now or wait?”

“Now is fine. Is it possible to have a view of the front door?”

“Of course, one moment.”

The hostess marks my name off of the list, grabs menus and utensils, and leads me to a table. I sit facing the entrance and she hands me the menu with a smile, saying the server will be right over.

The minutes tick by, with no server appearing, and I try to keep my breathing steady. My eyes don’t stray from the door, willing Sophie to walk through, hoping I won't be stood up. I know it makes me sound superficial, but I pray she looks like her photos.

Is catfishing a real thing?

My heart nearly stops when I see her. Her tawny skin, covered in an array of tattoos, glows in the evening sun. Where the light hits her soft, brown curls, glints of gold are visible. Even her amber eyes are shining when she walks in. The white, floral sundress swishes around her thighs and it occurs to me that it’s a good thing I didn’t choose a place near the coast. The wind could easily cause a Marilyn Monroe moment.

I stand and wave her over. When Sophie’s eyes land on me and she smiles, I swear I feel my entire body warm, a tingle running down my spine. Half of me wants to bolt, to run from the feeling. The other half is desperate to please her, to make her smile at me like that all the time. I haven’t even heard her voice yet, but I want to make her laugh, to listen as she says my name.

Fuck, I want to make hermoanmy name.

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