Blind Date

You slip on the turquoise dress while evaluating yourself in the mirror. This was a bad idea. Why had you agreed to go on a blind date? You’d officially been driven insane. Hook ups like this never work out well and you didn’t want a relationship at the moment anyway. You were single and free as the wind, dating just didn’t appeal to you at the moment. Maybe in a few months.

You fix your hair around your shoulders, which falls in soft curls around your shoulders and force yourself not to grab a hat, somehow you always feel safer wearing one. Your phone buzzes and you walk over to your bed to read the text message. It’s from your best friend, the one who ruthlessly set you up on a blind date.

Have fun tonight! The text reads. You sigh in frustration, knowing for a fact that tonight will be anything but fun.

Can’t you tell me anything about him? You text back, while self-consciously smoothing the dress out so it lays flat against your thighs. It was a gift from your best friend to be specifically worn on your blind date. It was beautiful but you resented your friend for buying it, and for setting you up with a stranger.

Nope, she texted back. Don’t wanna ruin the surprise ;)

You chuck your phone into your purse, angered by her reply. At least you knew this guy wasn’t some kind of serial kidnapper/murderer, your friend had sworn by it. Apparently he was a close friend of her boyfriend’s and she had met him numerous times. Your best friend had also told you that his career made it really difficult for him to date. In other words, go easy on him if he screws up.

You’d planned to meet at a restaurant only ten minutes from your house, so grabbing your purse, keys and coat you head outside and start up your car. Traffic is light and you get there sooner than expected, too soon. You’re early.

You pause for a moment, questioning whether you should wait in your car or just head into the restaurant and wait. What if he’s late? What if he doesn’t show up at all? Many similar questions run through your mind, but you can answer none. Instead you settle on texting your friend a warning quickly (I better not regret this) before heading inside.

Inside, you’re expected, Mr. Blind Date must have made reservations in your name. Which means he at least knows something about you, but you know nothing about him. This bugs you endlessly as you sit in a quaint booth at the back of the restaurant. It’s away from all the windows and you’re slightly disappointed that you don’t have a view of the street.

You’ve been waiting five minutes and had refused to be served twice already, the restaurant didn’t have many customers tonight, before a deep voice interrupts your thoughts.

“Joannie?” It asks.

Your head snaps up at the sound of your name and your eyes fall on a handsome young man. You quickly stand up, then regret your abruptness. You plaster on a smile and hold out your hand. “Hi. That’s me.”

He shakes your hand, not letting go of it as he takes his seat opposite you in the booth, pulling you down with him. “Hey. I’m Nathan, Nathan Sykes.”

“Hi,” you say again, unsure of what to say. He’s incredibly good looking, so much so that you’re slightly stunned into silence. You’d been mentally preparing yourself to meet a sleaze, but this guy, he was fine. Wait… “Do I know you?”

“Uh…” He pauses. “Possibly.”

“Possibly?” You chuckle. “Possibly yes, or possibly no?”

He cringes, but chuckles along with you. “Possibly yes. I’m-I’m sort of in a band.”

“How can you be sort of in a band?” You smile. “In my experience you’re either in a band or not in a band.”

He grins, showing a set of perfect white teeth. “Okay. I’m in a band.”

You smile back, enjoying the playful banter. This Nathan is surprisingly easy to talk to. You weren’t expecting that either. “And what band would that be?”

“The Wanted,” he eventually replies.

“The Wanted?” You pause. “I know them! Hang on.” You pull out your phone and scroll through your music selection, coming across an artist titled The Wanted, you have two of their albums. You squint at the album artwork of the album titled Battleground. “Is this you?” You turn the phone to face Nathan.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he reaches up and ruffles his hair, ruining the perfection but making it sexier in your eyes.

“Cool,” you begin. “So I’m guessing that you asked my friend not tell me who you were, right?”

He looks up, eyeing you with confusion, you simply sit back and raise an eyebrow, calling his bluff. “How did you know?”

“Well, I have a brain. And I’m pretty good at putting two and two together,” you wink at him.

He blinks back, shocked.

“You didn’t want to be “Nathan, that guy from The Wanted”, you wanted to be “Nathan, blind date”, right?” You giggle at his shocked expression.

“Uh, yeah,” he furrows his brow and seems to stare off into space. “Wow.”

“Wow, what?”

“I wasn’t expecting that,” he says, relaxing into his chair.

“Expecting what?” You lean forward so your elbows rest on the table.

“For you to be so cool about this,” he mumbles.

“Well you’re not the first celebrity I’ve had the honour of going on a blind date with,” you reply slyly.

“Really?”

You smile, resting your chin in your hands and looking up at Nathan through your lashes. “No, not really. You’re actually my first blind date, ever.”

“Oh really?” He smirks. “I guess that makes me pretty special then?”

You push off from the table and rest your back against the booth. “You wish.”

“My friend was right,” Nathan chuckles.

“About what?”

“He said I’d like you.”

“Funny,” you joke to prevent your blush from being noticeable. “My friend didn’t say anything about you.”

A waiter comes to your table and you and Nathan both mistakenly order the same meal. You talk endlessly about anything other than The Wanted, though you can tell it must be a big part of Nathan’s life, while you wait for your food to arrive. And when it finally does, you barely have the time to eat due to the constant conversation. Nathan is asking you questions and you’re firing ones back. He seems genuinely interested in everything you have to say and you two find you have quite a lot in common.

The end of the night races forward and all too soon, the waiter is collecting your dessert dishes and Nathan is refusing to let you pay a cent. He walks you to your car, his hand somehow finding yours through the sleeve of your jacket. “Thank you for a lovely time,” he says as you reach your parking space.

“Thank you,” you smile.

“Would it be too soon to maybe, ask for a second date?” Nathan says, helping you into the drivers seat.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you pretend to think. “Aren’t you going to be a bit busy for that?”

He chuckles. “If something’s worth it, I can make time.”

“Yeah?”

He nods.

“Well when you put it that way; so can I,” you slam your car door shut, forcing him to take an unwanted step back.

“I’ll call you,” he smiles.

“You better,” you blow him a kiss.

***

Two years later you take a seat in one of the back booths of the same restaurant. You’re always avoiding windows in public places now. You thought you were late, but in comparison you’re actually extremely early. No waiter approaches you to see if you’d like to order this time. You sit, fiddling with your hair and reminiscing about your last meal here. You giggle at the perfect memories.

“What’s so funny?” An approaching voice asks.

“Not funny,” you look up smiling. “More like perfect.”

“Happy Anniversary, love. The best two years of my life,” Nathan smiles, stepping forward to kiss your forehead.

“I love you, Nathan James Sykes,” you reply.