Page 22 of The Valentine's Bet

We say our goodbyes and I hang up the phone, letting out a sigh.

It’s all going to be great.

I finish my makeup, trying not to go too wild with it. I don’t want Nate to think I’m high maintenance. But I also don’t want him to think that I’m too low maintenance, either. I’m right in between...

Or something like that.

I braid my hair to the side and then grab a beanie since it’s cold. I’m going for a more casual look tonight with a pair of light-wash jeans and a green sweater. The goal is to show that I can be uptown or laid back. I grab my leather jacket and purse before heading for the door.

I pull out my phone, double-checking to see if Nate’s texted...

He hasn’t.

But that’s okay. I’ve heard that some people talk nonstop after meeting for the first time, but I prefer to keep some distance. It gives us more to talk about in person on our date—and my guess is that Nate feels the same.

Which isamazing.

I make the trek to SoHo while the sun sets, following the directions on my phone. It’s a longer walk than I expected, but I pick up my pace, striding out a little faster than the New Yorkers—which is really saying something.

My lungs burn from the cold air by the time I finally make it to Blue’s Coffee Shop, a little hole-in-the-wall place in a residential area.

It’s quaint and cute, maybe a hidden gem or something.

I glance down at my watch, seeing that I’m right on time.Perfect.I pull the door open and step inside, welcoming the scent of freshbrewed coffee and spices. However, as I look around, I don’t see Nate.

In fact, there are only about five people in the entire place, and they’reallwomen, so it’s not like it’s a case of mistaken identity or something. I make my way to a table facing the door and take a seat.

Should I order my coffee now? Or do I wait for him?

I pull out my phone and open the thread containing our three text messages. I quickly type out an ‘I’m here’ and hit send.

Maybe he’s running late—which is no big deal. I just want him to know that I made it here safely.

“What can I get you?” a barista’s voice interrupts my thoughts, and I set my phone down.

“Um, well, I’m actually waiting on someone.”

“I can go ahead and get your order while you wait,” she offers, her bright blue eyes glistening under the fluorescent lights.

“Oh ... sure ... um ... I guess I’ll have a caramel macchiato.”

“Perfect, I’ll get that started for you.”

I watch as she heads off toward the barista counter and I’m left sitting and staring at my phone. The phone screen goes dark and I quickly tap on it, lighting the text thread back up.

No reply.

It’s fine. He’s probably just running late so he’s not checking his phone.

I mean, it can be hard to walk andtext at the same time.

Drumming my fingers on the table, I consider calling him, but ... is that appropriate? Or is it weird to call someone when they’re not here yet? I check my watch. It’s officially ten minutes past seven.

Which isn’tthatlate.

Chewing the inside of my cheek, I consider calling Eliza to ask for advice. The last thing I want to do is come across overbearing, especially over ten minutes. Everyone runs late sometimes...

So, I just watch the clock.

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