by Emma Quinn
I pointed to my computer and turned away slightly, slightly weirded out. “I’m… I should get back to work.”
“R-right. Yeah. Okay. See you later, Dianna.”
Stephen scurried off and disappeared down the hangar, retreating to his corner of the building.
I was about to get back to my final round of edits when I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I took a quick glance over my shoulder. It was true that I was friends with my boss, but that didn’t mean I was except from the no phones on the clock rule. My curiosity got the better of me, though, so I slipped a quick glance.
Nathan – Would you like to grab a cup of coffee with me?
I sucked in a sharp breath through my nose, surprised. I wasn’t expecting to hear back from him. A wave of excitement surged through me, a giddy bubbliness rising into my chest. I was amazed at just how quickly I responded.
Dianna – Are you asking me out?
Nathan – Yes, I am. Are you free right now?
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, a sudden realization dawning on me. Was this a stupid idea? What if I said yes and wound up walking into some horrible sex trafficking situation? Weirder things have happened in LA. I wouldn’t be surprised if this turned out to be some sort of scheme to kidnap young women.
Nathan sounded nice via text, but what if he was really a scummy guy trying to take advantage of me? I didn’t know what he looked like. I had no clue what his full name was. I didn’t know where he worked, what his friends were like, or if he was telling the truth when he said another woman gave him my card.
There were too many unanswered questions.
“What are you doing?”
I nearly fell out of my seat. I whipped around to find Rachel peering over my shoulder, reading my messages. With a freakish amount of speed, she snatched my phone straight out of my hands.
“Who’s this?” she gawked.
I attempted to wrestle my phone back from her, but she held it out of reach. Rachel was already taller than me by a couple of inches, and it didn’t help that she had the support of her dangerously sharp five-inch heels to overshadow me.
“Who’s Nathan?” she teased, deliberately loud to no doubt embarrass and shame me for my phone use.
“Nobody. He’s nobody.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t be shy.”
“I’m serious. He’s nobody. I don’t know.”
Rachel raised a skeptical brow at me. “Mhm, sure.” She started to text on my behalf. I couldn’t read what she was writing, and by the time I finally snagged my phone back from her, it was too late. With the press of a button, Rachel sent the message, the swoosh sound effect making it official.
Dianna – Sure thing, sexy. Do you know where Cup o’ Joe’s is? Be there in an hour.
“What did you just do!?” I gasped. “Oh, no. No, no, no.”
Rachel crossed her arms. “What lesson did we learn today?”
I sighed. “Rachel, I don’t know the guy. He started texting me out of the blue last night. Why would you do this to me?”
She brought a hand up to cover her mouth, hiding her mischievous smile. “Oh, shit. Sorry. I was trying to use you as an example.”
“Your employees will be far more efficient if they’re not operating in a culture of fear,” I grumble miserably. “Oh my God, what am I going to do?”
Rachel tilted her head back and laugh. “Okay, okay. Calm down, Anna. It’s going to be fine.”
“Fine? I don’t even know if it’s safe to meet him.”
“Cup o’ Joe’s is on the corner of a very busy street.”
“So?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “So that means you’ll be in plain view of tons of people. It’s a public space with loads of tourists and coffee goers. You can show up, see what kind of guy he is, and if he turns out to be sketchy, bail. He doesn’t know what you look like, right?”
I grimaced. “I might have sent him a selfie. And I have no clue what he looks like.”
“Well, that was awful dumb of you.”
“Thanks for your love and support,” I said dryly. “I appreciate your friendship.”
Rachel wrapped her arm around mine and winked. “I know you do.”
Buzz buzz.
Nathan – Cool. I’ll see you there.
I rolled my eyes. “Great. Just great.”
“If you’re this unsure about it, just cancel on him.”
I nibbled on my bottom lip, the butterflies in my stomach fluttering so violently I thought I was going to lose my lunch. “Maybe I will.”
Rachel swiped my phone again and started texting Nathan before I could even realize what just happened.
Swoosh.
“Stop doing that,” I said, exasperated.
Dianna – Great! Can’t wait!
I groaned. “You’re the worst.”
“Are you telling me this as an employee or as a friend?”
“Yes.”
Rachel grabbed me by the shoulders and looked sternly into my eyes. “Listen here, Anna. You don’t have a life. It’s sad.”
“Is this your idea of a pep talk?”
“What’s the harm in getting coffee, hm? Just coffee. Quiet conversation. What if this guy ends up being the love of your life?”
“What if I make a complete ass of myself?”
“Simple. Don’t do that.”
I shook my head. “I’ve got too much work to do.”
“No, you don’t. I’m giving you express permission to go meet your soulmate. Get out of here or I’ll fire you.”
I squinted at her, half-amused and half-incredulous. “You’re ridiculous. Stop watching Nicolas Sparks movies.”
“You can’t make me. Now, go. You haven’t been out with anybody since you broke up with Tony. And how long ago was that?”
“A year.”
“A year,” she stressed dramatically. “I’ll take over the rest of the edits. And if you want, I can call you twenty minutes into the date with some sort of work emergency that you can use to excuse yourself.”
“Please don’t do that. It’d be so obvious.”
Rachel picked up my backpack from off the back of my office chair and handed it to me. With an encouraging shove, she urged me out the door.
“Send me a picture,” she instructed. “Just in case he turns out to be a serial killer. At least then I’ll be able to tell the cops who to look out for.”
I clicked my tongue, waiting for a witty response to come to me. Nothing came.
I chose instead to leave for my date with a man I didn’t know.
What’s the worst that can happen?
The café was a lively place, the sound of coffee grinders, soft jazz music, colorful conversation, and the rush of traffic all lifting into the air to create a cacophony of interesting sounds. It was located on a street corner, a little patio section fenced off on the sidewalk with large red patio umbrellas over the tables to provide shade from the hot sun. The scent of freshly baked cinnamon rolls and rich lattés filled my nose.
I arrived roughly three minutes before the agreed upon time because my bus, for once, was running on schedule. I supposed I could have taken an Uber so that I didn’t have to leave the office so early, but my bank account would scream at me for such a frivolous expense.
I glanced from table to table, studying every face I could get my eyes upon. There were a lot of interesting characters in this city, all ranging in size, color, ethnicity, shape. If I wasn’t currently so concerned with locating and identifying Nathan in the crowd, I probably would have taken out my camera to take candid street life shots.
Almost everybody had tattoos and piercings, something I loved to capture for all eternity in the form of a picture. Everyone had a story to tell, their own experiences that shaped who they were today. What I loved the most about being a photographer was getting the chance to immortalize people for future generations to look upon.
I exhaled slowly as I continued to look around for Nathan. I was presumably
looking for a man sitting alone. Someone who looked a little older than me. I was lost. I had no clue if I should be looking for a blond, brunet, or redhead. I had no idea if he was tall or short, skinny or fat.
People go on blind dates all the time. Is it always this awful?
Maybe he isn’t here yet.
Maybe he’s not coming at all.
If there was one thing I wasn’t, it was a quitter. I glanced at the time on my phone and decided to give Nathan another five minutes. He knew what I looked like. If he didn’t reach out to me, then I’d take as a sign that he wasn’t interested after all.
The possibility that Nathan may arrive, see me, and decide I’m not as cute as he thought bothers me. My insecurities about my messy hair, my ill-fitted sweater, and the muddiness of my sneakers started to fry my nerves. I hadn’t woken up this morning expecting to meet my mystery texter. If I’d known I was meeting Nathan for the first time in person, I would have brushed my teeth twice, thrown on a pretty dress, and attempted to make myself half-way presentable.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a sleek red Tesla pulled up to park at the curb. I paid the driver no mind as he got out of the car. Nathan said he was a freelance web developer. He probably couldn’t afford a car as nice as that one. The driver was dressed a pair of dark jeans, a tight black-shirt that hugged his frame, and had one of the latest Apple watches wrapped around his left wrist.
I returned my attention to the café patrons, trying to imagine what Nathan might look like. He said he was a buzzkill in real life, but I didn’t believe that for an instant. To come off as sweet and funny as he did over text –surely that meant he had a natural charisma and personability.
The owner of the Tesla stood beside me and cleared his throat. I glanced at him for a second and shifted away.
“There’s no line,” I explained, fully believing that he thought there was a queue. “Please, go ahead.”
The man chuckled softly. His voice was deep and low, like the lowest notes of a well-played cello. “Dianna?” he asked.
I had to tilt my head up to get a good look at him. My heart was rattling so hard in my chest I was worried that it’d come loose. The blood rushing past my ears was deafening, left me dizzier than I’d ever been in my life.
He was possibly the most gorgeous man I’d ever been lucky enough to lay my eyes on. It almost wasn’t fair. He had dark brown hair, deep brown eyes like chocolate, and a square jawline so sharp I could cut myself just by thinking about it. There was a seriousness to his face, a semi-permanent frown in the way that his thick brows slanted toward one another naturally. He had thin lips, rough stubble that gave him a smoky look, and a straight nose.
He was a freaking mountain. I thought I must have looked like a dwarf to him. The man had wide, strong shoulders and a solid chest which tapered down to a perfect waistline that would make Marilyn Monroe impersonators down the street green with envy. He had legs for days and arms so defined that his shift could barely contain him.
I was standing so close to me that I could smell his cologne –a lovely combination of sandalwood and pine. It wasn’t overbearing like that cheap Axe body spray Tommy used to bathe in. No. This was the scent of a real man.
Close your mouth, woman. You look like an idiot.
“Nathan?” His name rolled off my tongue.
He stuck his hand out to shake, a dashing grin upon his lips. I instinctively shook it, marveling at how big his palm was in comparison to mine.
“It’s nice to meet you,” he said, the epitome of cool, calm, and collected.
“Whoa,” I muttered stupidly.
Great. I’m making an ass of myself already.
6
Nathan
“ W
hoa,” she said before her cheeks turned neon pink. “I mean– I mean, hi.” Dianna swallowed so hard I could hear it happen. “It’s nice to– Um, it’s nice to meet you, too.”
Oh, no.
Oh, no, she’s adorable.
Her strawberry blonde hair was even lighter in person, locks pulled up into a messy bun with strands falling at the sides to frame her petite face. Her eyes were striking, so light and blue beneath the afternoon sun that I felt like I was looking at chilly mountain tops where the air was thin enough to leave my mind spinning. They were indeed tired, dark circles beneath her eyes that she hadn’t bothered to hide with concealer.
Dianna was rather plain-faced, but I meant that in the best of ways. I could appreciate the almond shape of her eyes, the faded freckles across the bridge of her nose, her chapped bottom lip. There was a childish innocence to her face, an honesty that seemed to radiate off her person. She wasn’t hiding. She wasn’t making any effort to pretend to be something she wasn’t. I’d spent the last decade dealing with those kinds of people, learned how to read past their overly-friendly façades.
But there was nothing to look past. Nothing immediately, anyways.
Dianna was dressed for comfort, just as she had been in the selfie she sent me. She looked incredibly cozy in a CalArts hoodie, the colors of which had faded over time after several runs through a washing machine. Her skinny jeans were ripped at the knees and her Converse sneakers were well-worn, the edges of which were crusted with dirt. Had she walked here to meet me?
I gestured towards the café doors. “Shall we?”
“I, uh– Yeah, okay.”
We found a corner table towards the back of the café where it was nice and quiet. I didn’t make it a habit of frequenting joints like this one. I’d rather put that ridiculously overpriced espresso machine back at the office to good use. It was almost five bucks here for a simple cup of coffee. The markups in LA were honestly so stupid. Sure, I wasn’t exactly hurting for money, but even I could understand that complications that higher living expenses posed for the poorer majority.
I used to be one of them, after all. I knew what it was like to struggle.
Which was why I insisted on buying our drinks for us.
Dianna sipped at her latté awkwardly. She was caught between staring at me and the foam art the barista drew into her drink.
“I’m not going to lie,” she started slowly, “you’re, uh… You’re a lot taller than I expected.
I chuckled. “Is that so?”
She nodded, her hair falling before her face just for her to tuck behind her ear again. “I don’t know. I guess you said you were a web developer and my mind immediately went to some nerdy dude with glasses. Not some hunky beefcake–” Her ears burned bright red. “I mean– You didn’t hear that.”
I leaned forward against the table and smirked. “No, no. Go on. You’re doing wonders for my ego.”
Dianna giggled anxiously. It was a beautiful sound, like a bubbly champagne. “Sorry. I’m just nervous. I, uh… I don’t do this a lot.”
“What? Call men hunky beefcakes or go on blind dates?”
“Both.”
“Don’t be nervous.”
“I– Okay.” She took another awkward sip of her drink. The foam panda resting at the top of her mug was now misshaped and wonky. “So. Freelance web developing, huh? What’s that like?”
I shrugged a shoulder. I didn’t want to give too much away. My worry was that Dianna would discover who I really was. People tended to sing a very different tune around me when they found out I ran a multi-million international company. I wasn’t too surprised that she didn’t recognize me. Unlike Bezos, I made a point to avoid public outings as much as possible so I could keep some semblance of privacy.
“I like what I do,” I answered, perhaps a bit too plainly.
Dianna raised an eyebrow at me, an amused grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “Could you be any vaguer?”
“Maybe.”
She straight-up laughed. Her smile was bright and blinding, like staring directly at the sun. “Alright, Mister Tall Dark and Handsome. What kind of clients do you work for? It must be pretty hard being freelance in this town.”
“I mainly work for one
client, Monteverde.”
This wasn’t necessarily a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth. For now, it was the only answer I was comfortable giving.
“Monteverde? No wonder you knew about their discounts.”
“Did you end up finding a drone you liked?”
She nodded, but her eyes dimmed slightly. “I did. I don’t think I’ll get anything, though.”
“Why not?”
Dianna shrugged a shoulder, smiling at me simply. Her mouth fell open just to close again, like she wanted to say what was on the tip of her tongue, but decided against it.
“I don’t know if I actually need one,” she explained. “I’m so busy with work that I don’t think I’ll be able to use it for my passion projects. It’d just collect dust if I bought it.”
“How did you get interested in photography?”
A fond smile ghosted across her lips. “My grandmother was a model when she was a teen. When I was a little girl, I snuck up into the attic and found a bunch of her old portfolios. Lots of black and white pieces, but I remember thinking they were stunning. I wanted to be able to take pictures of people like that and do my best to tell a story.”
“You didn’t want to be the model in front of the camera?”
“No, that’s…” Dianna cleared her throat, sheepishly casting her eyes down. A flash of something clouded her eyes, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. Insecurity? Shyness? A combination of both? “I’d much rather be the one taking the photo,” she said. “I don’t think I’m much to look at.”
A tick of annoyance lodged itself in my throat. How could she think that? Dianna was unlike any woman I’d ever laid eyes on. What life had she led to believe this? Why hadn’t the people in her life told her this wasn’t the case? Who trampled on this poor woman’s confidence and left her to pick up the pieces?
“But you’re beautiful,” I argue.
She looked up at me, wide-eyed like a dear caught in the headlights. She giggled again, waving a dismissive hand at me. “Oh, there’s no need to lie. You’re just being nice.”