{ 4 }
Date 1: A Partridge in a Pear Tree
When I walk into the coffee shop I spot Josh immediately. It’s not that hard. He’s the only person wearing a Dr. Who t-shirt. Points for adorable. When I walk over to the comfy chairs he’s snagged next to the gas fireplace, he stands up and shakes my hand. He’s pretty low-key looking. Nice brown eyes, brown hair that could use a trim. Taller than me by a few inches. Not stunning, but cute.
He doesn’t look much like his profile photo, but I’m hardly one to criticize.
“I like your shirt,” I say.
“Thanks. I figured it was better than carrying a red rose or something.”
He gets me a latte. I love them here. They come in big blue pottery bowls. He also brings over two cookies.
We sip and then, as tempted as I am to launch into the Dr. Who talk, I remember my mission.
“So, you moved here a few months ago? What do you do?”
He puts down his cup. Leans back. “Really? Nothing much. I’m kind of between projects right now.”
Right then, my heart sinks. He’s an unemployed slacker who watches old TV reruns on his computer. No wonder I’m attracted to him. Well, he’s now officially off the list for impressing my family.
But, we have a lot of coffee to drink and how many people can I sit face to face with and talk about Dr. Who?
Soon we are laughing and the talk turns to movies and books – and of course we both have a secret love on for graphic novels.
When the coffees are long gone and probably two hours have flown by, he says, “You know, Lucy. I really had fun. Do you want to catch a movie this week?”
My two Lucys immediately indulge in a painful tug-of-war. The Lucy who is actually me, wants to agree immediately. The Lucy who is on a mission to find a date for Christmas can’t be sidetracked like this.
He sees my hesitation, obviously, and I feel like a bitch.
“I do, but—“
He raises his eyebrows.
Screw it. “Yes. But here’s the thing. I need to be honest with you. I’ve got this nightmare family and I told them I was bringing a date home for Christmas. I only have six weeks to find someone suitable.”
“And I wouldn’t be suitable?” He doesn’t look offended, more – I don’t know. Curious, I guess.
“What suits me, doesn’t suit my family. They’re a bunch of snobs. You’d show up with no job and slacker hobbies and they’d chew you up and spit you out like a moldy chestnut.”
“So, you’re saying you don’t want to see me again?”
“No,” I almost wail. “I do. But I still have to find a super-successful, high achieving, millionaire to bring to Christmas dinner. Otherwise, they’ve threatened me with a blind date. Some friend of my horrible cousin Trevor’s.
“That sounds bad.” He’s sympathetic but there’s a disturbing twinkle in his eye. Like he’s laughing at me. Which is perfectly understandable since even I can see that my life is a joke.
“It is.”
He pushes his pottery coffee bowl aside, preparing to leave. “Weirdly, I’d still like to see you again.”
And that’s the best news I’ve had in ages.
“I hate to even ask,” I say, “but would you be interested in seeing Frozen in Space?” It’s a super indie movie based on the graphic novel.
His eyes light up. “Hell, yeah.”