by Nora Stone
I had been putting it off. I just didn’t like the idea of putting myself out there for a hundred thousand men to pick apart. It probably wasn’t that many, but it sure felt like it. Besides that, it felt so vulnerable.
What if I hook up with a psycho?
“You weren’t scared when you first created an account and put yourself out there?” I asked Zoe.
“Well, I was nervous after I did it, but wine helped me a little at the time,” she admitted with a bit of laughter, and then added, “Maybe you should get a bottle.”
I didn’t drink much wine, but every once in a while I would sip a glass before bedtime. It sounded like a good idea. Planning to stop by the liquor store on the way home, I nodded and told her I would.
After we drank our second cup of gourmet coffee, we told the barista that we would see him later and laughed at something he said on our way out the door.
I only saw Jarrod once more during my shift. He looked moody. I felt so bad for the rest of the day. I stopped at the liquor store and got the wine, but failed to follow through on the account setup at love-match-dot-com. The next couple of days were just so exhausting that it was an easy promise to overlook.
Three days later, Zoe asked if I’d created a profile. I told her I would that very night, and finally got the chance to look around a few sites. I had always thought the internet scene was for people who were…desperate. Thinking about Zoe, though, made me realize that she wasn’t desperate, and never had been. Hell, the woman still had men hitting on her left and right.
Zoe was tall with blonde hair and had the body of a model. Men always went after that type. I was curvaceous, but on the heavier side. I’d always been on the heavier side, but I was 5’ 8” so my weight was proportioned well enough.
Love match was rather well organized, but I still flailed a bit when setting up a profile. What was I supposed to put on this profile? I wasn’t going to lie, but my life was really boring. Loves drinking gourmet coffee or has a green thumb sounded like an old lady desperately seeking companionship.
Damn it, I used to talk to Mr. Kummings about stupid stuff like this. The man was full of good advice. I missed our conversations. He was still in the hospital, and I was getting really worried.
I grabbed the wine and poured a glass to sip while applying more make-up than I’d worn over the last three years. After fixing my hair, I snapped a couple of selfies with my cell phone. I didn’t like any of them.
I finally muttered a fuck-it and stopped trying. In the end, I picked a photo of me wearing a bikini and T-shirt while playing on the beach. Even though I was a big girl, this picture showed a confidence that I thought was sexy. Hopefully, guys would think so too. I listed that I was 31 years old.
The cursor hovered over the Complete Profile button. Clicking the mouse made me feel as though I were stepping off a ledge and tumbling through the unknown. I stared at the screen for a minute. I really didn’t know how long this would take. Would it be like watching the grass grow?
I took a deep breath and sent a text to Zoe: I did it!
She immediately responded: Yay! Get ready for some naughtiness!
I rolled my eyes and laughed. I had no idea that I would come home the next day to find a page full of hits.
Some of them were horrible, with guys spinning the corniest pickup lines. I declined several and texted Zoe to get her opinion on a few. She was so excited for me that we made a tentative date so she could help me out. And over the next couple of days, I received quite a few more hits. Then, my attention was taken away from dating. Mr. Kummings had slipped into a coma. For those days after he went into the coma, I simply sat beside his bed after I got off work and told him about my newest venture.
I normally didn’t get this close to patients, but I had a soft spot in my heart for this white-haired man. He reminded me of my grandfather even though Mr. Kummings was only in his fifties. I knew he’d had a hard life, but he was doing so much now for the nearby homeless shelter. That only made his sickness much harder to bear.
When Zoe finally came over, she crowed, “See! I told you that you should have done this a long time ago. Do you want Brian and me to come along on the first date?”
I shook my head. “I intend to talk by phone, e-mail, and text before we even see each other.”
“That’s smart, Susan, and exactly how Brian and I did it, too.”
We started scrolling through the profiles and leaned forward on one in particular.
“Look at those eyes – talk about sexy!” Zoe breathed.
“A landscaper with a degree in horticulture,” I read aloud as both of our mouths moved, “who loves big beautiful women, the thrill of learning, and has a weakness for redheads (especially nurses).”
“Damn, Susan. He’s tailor-made for you.”
I jotted down his name, Campbell, on a notepad, and moved to the next one. Zoe giggled and pointed out a message that one man had left me.
Love sexy Irish women with a lot of curves.
To my surprise, quite a few of the men said pretty much the same thing about me. They loved my red hair, Irish origins, and my confidence in the photo. After Zoe and I engaged in a little bit of girly high-fiving and giggles, we went back to sorting them out.
Of them all, I kept going back to Campbell and his smoldering brown eyes. I could only hope that the photo of him was actually him. When I voiced my thoughts, Zoe clicked on a link and showed me a photo album. In every picture, Campbell looked splendidly buff, and I couldn’t get enough of those eyes.
With too many nerves for my liking, I sent him a message. I was pretty anxious, but I obviously didn’t usually contact strange men on the internet.
Right away, he responded and asked if I wanted to instant message him. I grinned and logged onto the social media that he’d listed. Zoe watched over my shoulder, coaching me now and then on what to say.
“Ask him if he drinks coffee and what kind,” she recommended.
I quickly typed it in. Both of us shrieked when he not only responded with a positive answer, but even listed a gourmet source that we used.
Zoe grabbed her purse, squeezed my arm, and said, “My work here is done. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I wiggled my fingers at her and continued conversing with Campbell. We went back and forth for quite a while until he asked for my cell number by typing, “I know there’s a sexy voice attached to these fingers. May I hear it tonight?”
Now, how could I resist a request like that? I eagerly waited for him to call. When I answered, I had his picture in front of me and grinned at his smooth hello.
“Hello, yourself. I know this is a weird request, but can you text me a selfie with my profile up behind you? I just want to make sure your picture’s not actually a GQ model or something.”
I loved his sexy, deep laughter. He asked me to do the same and I agreed. I grinned as I thought of telling Mr. Kummings what I’d requested of Campbell. I could just see his appreciative expression while he warned me about the internet. Campbell and I hung up in order to properly take the selfies. I received his first and quickly sent mine. My cell phone rang moments later.
I told him that I wanted to take this slow because I was a love match dot com virgin, so to speak. He in turn told me that that was perfectly understandable, but added that he couldn’t wait to meet me. We talked for another hour about a bit of everything.
In the end, we promised to talk again the next day after I told him I had to work early in the morning. He admitted that he had to work also. As it turned out, he was the partner of a landscaping company which created industrial and artistic designs for a wide range of entities. He’d even done some work for St. Vincent’s Hospital.
I stared at his picture after I ended the call with him, and wondered if we’d actually passed each other. I remembered his company doing work for the hospital, but couldn’t remember him. It bugged me even after I hopped in the shower.
I have to admit that I shaved my legs even though I had shaved them th
at morning. I had to laugh at myself, too. I don’t know what I expected... maybe for him to sneak into my house while I slept and discover freshly shaven legs or something.
Feeling a fresh thrill in my blood, I wore my sheer black gown to bed that night. I love lingerie in every color. Underneath my uniform is a big girl in white lace and satin, sexy to a fault and willing to go places not a whole bunch of people are willing to go. That’s another reason I’m really picky when it comes to dating.
Unfortunately, the men I’ve dated haven’t wanted to try a lot, other than fuck quickly and leave me high and dry. As a result, I haven’t gotten the chance to explore as much as I want, but I fantasize a ton.
Now, though, I switched between channels and tried to find a documentary. When I finally settled on something, I snuggled underneath my blankets and was asleep before I could get into the film’s subject matter.
* * *
The next morning, I awoke and found a text waiting on my phone: Good morning.
Over my first cup of coffee of the day, I texted back: Good morning. Enjoying a good cup of Joe.
I didn’t get think I’d get a response back right away, but I did: Same here. I’m at the Portland Rose Gardens. Do you like roses?
Being a stickler for schedules, I sent back: Love them. Lucky you. Gotta go get dressed. :)
He immediately replied: Have a great day.
I responded in kind and hurried to get dressed. The day went as scheduled, but I had a new pep in my step. By lunchtime, Zoe had noticed that I was in high spirits. Both of us were shocked when a dozen orange roses were delivered to me.
I had no clue what orange signified, so we looked it up. On Wiki, it said desire and enthusiasm. I texted him a ‘thank you’. Needless to say, I was teased for the rest of the day. But don’t get me wrong: I enjoyed every minute of it.
The nurses on the floor know that I’m stern but good-natured. I don’t scream at them or anything. If I want something done a different way, I suggest it and welcome feedback.
Working in the hospital, our filters are skewed, so the teasing got a little wicked. We still efficiently did our work, though. By the time I left for the day, my face was as red as my hair. There was still no change with Mr. Kummings. I told him about Campbell being my choice and stuck a beautiful rose in the vase beside his bed.
Campbell called me that night and warmed every inch of me with his voice. By the time I went to bed, we’d logged onto video chat and flirted a bit. He wanted to get together in the next few days. I was content enough with our current communication, but eager to see him too.
I’d tried not to go too fast, but agreed to see him on Saturday. I was off on Sunday and Monday. Today was Thursday. Butterflies were already unfurling their wings in my stomach.
After our conversation, I ate and went to shower. I wasn’t a clean freak, but was accustomed to showering in the morning and after work. That was just my schedule. Nothing would disrupt it.
I put a lace nightgown in vivid blue on for the night. Sleep never took long. The next morning, another text was waiting. And, at lunchtime, another bouquet of roses was delivered. They were light pink this time.
Wiki provided me with words like admiration, grace, and joy. I’d settle for any of the appropriate meanings. They were beautiful. Of course, the word spread and I had several visitors from various floors. Jarrod was one of them.
He didn’t stop and say anything about the roses, but made an excuse to be on my floor. I seriously think I might have bruised his ego. I sent Campbell another ‘thank you’ text. After work, I checked on Mr. Kummings and left a few more roses with him.
The following couple of days were uneventful, except for the texts. My anticipation made me nervous. By the time Saturday rolled around, I was feeling a bit manic and anxious.
We’d spoken and knew what each other liked now. And even as much as I was comfortable talking to Campbell, I still wondered if we’d said everything to each other already. What if we became that awkward couple who runs out of interesting stuff to talk about?
I shook off my apprehension and dressed in a loose blue blouse that showed a bit of cleavage. My pants looked like a skirt because the pant legs billowed out with each step. The smart outfit looked very good on me.
We had agreed to meet at the Portland Rose Gardens. After putting a bit of makeup on, I grabbed my purse. Normally, I only wear red lipstick to work, but I wanted to look my best for him.
I tried to control the flapping butterflies from climbing up my throat on the way to the Gardens. When I arrived, he looked just like his photo: tanned, fit, and with smoldering eyes that made me want to stare into them ALL night.
His gaze raked me from head to toe, sending his eyes from smoldering to something too wicked for words. Both of us grinned when sexual tension seemed to spark in the air. I should have known we didn’t have anything to worry about.
He reached out to take my hand and I almost swooned when his bicep flexed. And he had tattoos. I wanted to rub my body all over them.
I took his hand and he laced his fingers through mine before bringing them to his lips.
“Much better in person,” he breathed over the back of my hand.
I could feel my cheeks heat. “Yes, it certainly is. Nice to finally meet you.”
He drew me into his arms for a hug. He felt so damn good that I almost didn’t release him. I kept reminding myself to take this slow. Without a doubt, there was sexual heat between us. I just had to make myself be patient now. Patience was not my strong suit.
We started walking amongst all the roses and talking about what had happened during our day. Continuing at a leisurely pace, our conversation turned to gardening. About an hour into our stroll, he asked how I’d become ward over a floor at the age of thirty-one.
“I’m a by-the-book kind of gal. I like schedules and can be a bit stern, but not in a bad way. When the position became available, they asked if I wanted it. The rest is history.”
“Stern, huh? I guess a nurse of a ward would have to be. What’s your future look like, Susan?”
“Oh, I have my goals. If something upsets them a bit, I can be flexible, but I might not like the process.”
He laughed at the way I said it and nodded, “I know what you mean. You have to let some things roll off your back and then grab other things by the throat and make them fit into your life, right?”
“Exactly. What about you? What does Campbell’s future look like?”
“Well, I hope it involves a certain beautiful and stern red-headed nurse.”
I laughed and nodded. “Should I ask what you and this nurse will be doing?”
“Oh, you can ask all you want, but I like a degree of spontaneity.”
“Really?” He was looking more delicious by the second. He winked at me and I grinned. Needing to do something before we screwed right there in the rose bushes, I said, “You mentioned something about a picnic. Are you hungry?”
“You are skilled. Did you hear my stomach growl?” He asked me.
“All top nurses are telepathic. Didn’t you know that?” I flirted.
“What am I thinking now?”
His burning eyes told me right away exactly what he was thinking. I playfully gasped and said, “Shame on you.”
He laughed as we headed toward the car. Normally reserved even though I had enjoyed his hug and handholding, I was surprised when he pulled me close to him when we approached the car.
“You smell better than any rose,” he whispered near my ear.
Even though goose bumps spread down my arms, I pulled away and smiled. “Thank you.”
He smelled wonderful, too, but I felt that it would be too flirty and forward for me to tell him so. He already looked ready to engage in the naughty at any minute. I wasn’t used to moving this fast in the first place.
I moved around to the passenger side just to place distance between us. He seemed to realize that I was a bit rattled by his intensity. We climbed into his vehicle
and headed toward a park that we’d agreed upon earlier that week, and I was just glad that our conversation never grew awkward.
I have to admit that Campbell was smooth. At first, he had lightly flirted and joked. In the car, he laced his fingers through mine again as if it was the most normal thing in the world to do.
I answered his questions in short bursts on the way to the park, but I was otherwise quiet. It wasn’t that I didn’t like him. I actually liked him a little too much for this early stage in the game. And I wasn’t used to this level of affection either. I felt connected to him, but jarred at the same time. It was disconcerting.
The atmosphere in the car was comfortable between us. Again, this had me confused. My normal dates were usually similar to the one I’d had with Jarrod. Either I was left unsatisfied or my date was. There was normally some kind of awkwardness. None of that existed between Campbell and me.
This certainly wasn’t textbook, and I couldn’t fit it neatly into a category. The sexual attraction was there, too. My mind toyed with that little pearl.
Maybe online dating isn’t so bad after all. I landed a well-sculptured gardener who has the hots for curvy redheads. I can live with a little affection. But can I resist it? I mean, look at that man candy. Okay, now… stop drooling.
We finally arrived at the park. He had packed a wicker basket full of wines and cheeses, grapes, and gourmet crackers. I just stood there and dumbly blinked at it. This was so damn romantic.
“Do you like Crump’s Coffee House?” He asked.
“That’s the little gourmet shop only a block from here. Yes, I love it.” I couldn’t have contained my grin if someone had paid me. He grinned back and almost singed my hair with those gray eyes of his. A shadow of stubble was emerging on his jaw, and it made him look like a Greek statue.
I sat down on the blanket and helped him remove some items from the basket. At every brush of skin, our gazes met. I would quickly break contact first.
I leaned forward to grab a cracker and he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I almost jumped a mile.
He smiled and asked, “Do I make you nervous?”