Page 20 of The Amazing Date

We set off once again, racing through an airport. I’m not much of a runner, but for the last three months, I’ve run five miles a day in preparation for this race, early runs prior to work and late-night gym sessions working on strength and flexibility. All my training had been done alone. Gabby urged me to join a runners’ group, something she did in Chicago. Said it was life-changing. She’s planning to continue to run with her group after she heals. I’ve never considered it before, but racing shoulder to shoulder with Roberto is nice, the push and pull of a partner challenging me and supporting me all at the same time.

He’s always had this effect on me. Making me think I’m capable of things I wouldn’t normally consider. Making me feel things I’ve told myself wasn’t for me. His view of the world is so different than mine. His view of me is so different—at least it used to be.

We reach the taxi area and show the image to the driver. It only takes two drivers before someone recognizes the image. Roberto was right—the image is the gateway to Chinatown. He hops in the back seat, but I pause. It’s one o’clock in the afternoon, my anal mind working hard, alarm bells ringing.

I hold up a finger and walk across to a traffic agent. I point to the image. “I’m going to Chinatown. Which is faster at this hour, taxi or train?”

The agent barely acknowledges my presence, waving an idling car to move. “At this hour, taxi. Early morning and rush hour, the train.”

I wave a thank-you and hop into the seat next to Roberto.

“What was that?” he asks.

“I needed to check on the fastest route.”

He shifts in his seat and blows out a breath. “And you couldn’t ask our driver. The one who actually knows where we are going?”

I lower my chin and whisper, “He has a vested interest in saying cab.” Roberto rolls his eyes, and I know I’ve said something wrong. “What? What is it?”

“Nothing,” he grunts.

I reach into the outer pocket of my backpack and pull out a protein bar. “Is someone a little hangry?” I mock.

He shakes his head, but he takes the snack. His focus shifts to the back of the driver’s headrest and chews I take in his strong jawline, the sharp features of his profile, the thin mustache, the perfectly groomed shadow on the end of his chin. He’s a freaking Adonis I can stare at for days. “This world has more honest people than dishonest ones.”

He sounds just like his abuela. Each evening over dinner, she would state something profound like this, Roberto or Gabby translating for my benefit.

“You could have just asked the driver is all I’m saying.”

I nod. No point in arguing. We’re in last place, and what I did was the strategically right move. I’m hoping one of the other teams on our flight took the train. We need every advantage we can get if we are to stay in this competition. The team that finishes last today will be eliminated, and I don’t want to go home. Not after all we’ve overcome today.

I reach down into my backpack and pull out my notebook and scan my checklist.

Checklists are defined; they are predictable, they don’t argue.

Roberto is staring out the window, a youthful glaze in his eyes as he takes in everything. The people, the architecture, the landscapes. I envy his ability to relax and just be in the moment. My mind is already back in race mode, the challenge that waits for us. I attempt to clear my mind and live in Roberto’s world for an instant.

Cars whiz by, and my eyes immediately search the passenger seats to see if it’s another team. I blow out a breath and resist the urge to look down at my notebook. Instead, I focus on the people walking the bustling streets. They must be on lunch break; I wonder if Zion has come up with those design requirements yet.

Geesh, I suck at this.

I take a long blink and reset once again.

“It’s good to see you relaxing for a change. Nice, right? No notebook, no planning the next move?” I hear Roberto’s words, but they don’t reach me.

I merely nod and continue searching the sidewalks for a lady wearing a red dress of some sort with a baseball cap. I’ll relax after we get to the finish line. My whisper floats on the warm wave of heat in Roberto’s direction. “Yeah, nice.” If he’d look in my direction, he’d realize I’m doing anything but relaxing, and the last word he’d ever use to describe me would be nice.

Chapter 14

Roberto

Our cab pulls up to the gateway to Chinatown, and it’s the spitting image of the postcard. Our driver, Sergei, has only been in San Francisco five years but loves driving a taxi. He’s explained that the gateway is at the southern tip of the San Francisco Chinatown, which happens to be the largest Chinatown outside of Asia. He’s from Bulgaria originally. His son studied at the university here and decided to stay after graduation, marrying an American citizen. It’s taken them fifteen years to get his parents to America.

The meter reads twenty-six dollars. I hand him forty and hop out. I expect Rylee to be searching for a lady in a red outfit, but instead, she is staring at me with fire in her eyes.

“What do you think you are doing?” she grunts at me as I wave to the departing Sergei.

“Looking for a lady in red.” The joke fails miserably.

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