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It’s been two days since I kissed a stranger. And I’m still as annoyed as ever. And possibly still dreaming of that kiss. Every time I close my eyes he’s there again. Large hands encircling my waist, warm lips exploring mine.
But I have yet to find him again in real life. Turns out a woman can’t go down to her local precinct and request to see a lineup of all the attractive detectives with brown hair and muscles for days. Ask me how I know.
Maddie was right to not join me in this effort. It’s a fool’s errand, but I cling to it like Shawn Spencer clings to the claim that he’s a psychic. (The real Shawn, not the dog.)
I turn on some music to get ready for the day. Taylor Swift, of course, because it’s the only choice, but my thumb hovers over the dating app. I’ve purposely avoided it, certain the man I was supposed to meet saw me with another guy and got the hint.
Which is for the best. I’m not into this whole online dating thing. I need someone with more adventure, more mystery, specifically in the form of a handsome detective.
I click on the app, intent on deleting my account when a message from Chad catches my eye from the morning after our not date.
Chad: I must have missed you last night. Would you like to try again this weekend, beautiful?
I rub my blurry morning eyes. Am I reading that right?
I stood him up. No worse, I cheated on him before I even met him and he still wants to go on a date with me?
My thumb hovers over the keyboard, my brain at a loss. Do I want to try another date with Chad? I feel like I owe it to him after standing him up.
But that’s where my brain gets stuck because what I really want to do is find the man who wants nothing to do with me. What’s wrong with me? There’s a perfectly nice man on the internet who wants to get to know me and probably not kill me.
Amelia: I’d love to.
There, my conscience can rest now.
After getting ready I feed Shawn and Gus and leave them with strict instructions not to get into trouble while I’m gone.
My phone rings as I pull out of my apartment complex.
I don’t look before I answer.
“Millie? You answered.”
My skin crawls at the all-too-familiar and annoying voice greeting me.
“Justin, stop contacting me.”
“Millie, baby, please don’t hang up. I need to talk to you.” His voice is pathetic, desperate really. It’s been months since we broke up. But I’m not ready to “talk” like we are old friends. He hurt me, and I’m over it, end of story.
“I’m not getting back together with you. You can delete my number, I’m done.”
“But I haven’t seen you in ages. I tried going by your house last week, but you weren’t there.”
I slam on my brakes to avoid a collision with the Oldsmobile in front of me.
He went by my parents' place? We broke up before Connor and I decided to sell the house, so I guess he doesn’t know that I no longer live there.
“And you haven’t been into the salon,” he continues.
Something about his words lifts the hair on my neck. Why is he looking for me? My new apartment is more than forty-five minutes from my old salon so I switched to a different one. One he also doesn’t need to know about.
“They said you don’t work there anymore. Why did you quit? I thought you loved it.”
And that right there explains everything about why we failed. He never knew the real me, the me who is nearly thirty years old and still can’t figure out what fills my soul with contentment. I love my job and my clients. I really do. But one kiss with a hot detective was all it took to make me feel unsettled.
“Sorry, you keep missing me but it’s really for the best. I don’t want you in my life.”
“You don’t mean that.” His voice takes on a hard edge. The Justin I knew was always chill. Didn’t have a care in the world. But this one sounds frustrated on too many levels.