Page 4 of Accidental Blind Date
“Looks like it,” I say gruffly, then take a sip of my drink.
“I just hope he doesn’t ghost.”
I stop. “What makes you say that?”
“I see it a lot. Pretty girl, hopes high, and then man chickens out leaving her to pay for her own drink, her confidence gone. I see it flipped too. Men waiting hours for a girl to show then finding company in the bottom of a whiskey glass. Speaking of that, you ready for round three?”
“Not yet,” I shake my head. This one is going slower than the last. “You really don’t think the guy is going to show?”
“I’m just saying as a bartender, I see it a lot. Hopefully I’m wrong though.”
Unfortunately, Madeline’s intuition seems unfortunately accurate.
Over the passing of the next half hour, the girl is still sitting alone.
Her drink is close to gone and she’s checking her phone about every five minutes.
But the worst part is, her smile has faded too.
He’s not coming.
What a dick.
Why I am so investing in this girl’s date night gone sour I can’t explain. Maybe it’s the bourbon on an empty stomach. Maybe it’s displacement of my own sadness.
Or maybe…maybe it’s the fact that this place is by a rule coupled off, except for the two of us.
We are both alone and lonely and, in a place like this, that fact is like tequila without the training wheels.
It burns and honestly, just fucking sucks.
“Wait,” I say as a man that meets the description comes into view at the door.
Tall, check. Blonde, check. Alone…check.
While the host seats another couple, the man looks around nervously, and I’d put money on it that that’s him.
Then, he sees her.
There is recognition in his expression.
I take another sip of my drink, downing it this time.
Cheers to them, I suppose.
And cheers to me too for once again being the lone wolf in a room full of happy people.
But then I realize, he’s not walking to the table.
She glances in the direction of the front door though her view is blocked by a giant wall of ferns, and when she looks back down at her drink,he leaves.
The guy actually took one look at her, squirmed…and fucking dipped.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I say out loud just as Madeline walks back behind the bar after serving a table.
“I don’t know what happened, but my bartending Spidey senses tell me it’s time for that third drink.” Then her smile fades. “What? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I think I did,” I tell her. It’s not untrue. I just watched the girl with the beautiful smile and the hopeful green eyes, and the stunning yellow dress get full blown ghosted. “Hey…did she say what the guy’s name was?”
