Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 85711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Chapter 4
Jillian
* * *
My heart is about to come out of my chest or my throat at this point. “Sorry, are you Zander?”
I ask him, and he just looks at me. His blue eyes are a bit guarded as he scans my face. The longer he doesn’t say anything, the faster my heart beats in my chest and the more nervous I get. His face gives away nothing as I stand here. I try not to let my eyes linger down to his muscled arms that fill out the gray shirt he’s wearing.
The minute the Uber dropped me off outside, I got this feeling inside me that made me even more nervous. During the whole ride over, I kept asking myself why I didn’t ask him for a picture. I kept asking myself why I didn’t confirm the date with him today. I kept asking myself why the hell I put myself in this situation. With every step I took, my heart just beat faster and faster.
When I walked in, the chattering filled the area, and the hostess made eye contact with me before I could turn and run away. I had no choice but to pretend that I was okay, even though I felt like I was going to yack all over the place. I asked the hostess if there was someone here alone, and she pointed at this guy in the corner. I walked over to him, my hands shaky and my palms so sweaty I had to hold them together to calm myself down. The sound of my heels clicking on the floor echoed in my ears.
His head was down while I made my way to him, but that was good because it gave me a chance to check him out. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt and a baseball cap. My head was yelling to turn away before he looked up. The guy came to a date in a baseball cap? Talk about not making an effort. “I’m supposed to be meeting a Zander here,” I say as he just stares at me, and even if he wore the cap, I would forgive him because holy fucking shit, he is the hottest man I’ve ever seen. If he is desirable in a baseball hat, can you imagine how hot he is when he really makes an effort? “We were supposed to meet here at seven.” I start to word vomit and can literally hear Julia tell me to shut the fuck up.
He shakes his head. “I’m not Zander.” His voice comes out smooth, and my face suddenly gets hot, and I wait for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
My eyes go big as I think of what to say. Sorry, I’m looking for a date and I don’t know what he looks like because I’m an idiot and thought a blind date would be fun. “I am so sorry,” I apologize, trying not to feel like an idiot. “I won’t keep you any longer. Have a great evening,” I say and turn around, walking away from him and waiting to trip over something and be roadkill in the middle of the restaurant. My eyes focus on my feet as I try not to make a spectacle of myself.
I walk back over to the hostess stand and see the same girl who smiled at me when I walked in here. “That’s not him.” She tilts her head to the side, not sure what to tell me.
“He is the only one who came in alone,” she says, pointing over at the guy, and I look and see the waitress taking his order. “Other than him, there are no other single guys.” She looks down at the paper in front of her. “Did you make a reservation?”
“It would be for Zander or Jillian,” I say, not sure if maybe Zander made the reservation. She looks down at her paper as the door opens again, and I turn my head, hoping to see a single man come in, but I see a couple instead. They stand behind me, waiting for the hostess.
“There is no one under that name,” she says, and if I didn’t feel like a loser before, I feel like one now. Especially considering the weird face she just gave me.
“Is it okay if I wait at the bar?” I ask, looking around the restaurant and seeing that it’s starting to get a touch busier than when I walked in. The door opens again, and five girls walk in.
“That’s okay, but if we need the seat,” she says, and I just nod at her and walk toward the back of the restaurant to the bar. I glance over my shoulder to look back at the stranger I interrupted and see that he’s on his phone. He laughs and picks up his hand, bending it to scratch the back of his head, and I see the muscles in his arms flex. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I mumble. How can he get hotter? Why couldn’t he be my blind date? I think to myself and turn, getting on a stool, ignoring the need to look back over and see if he’s still laughing.