Amber
Despite my cocky attitude when leaving work, when I got home, the first thing I did was pull my phone out of my bag and plop down onto the sofa to check the app. The desire had been building from the moment I climbed in the car, but parking at the side of the road to do so seemed too needy.
Besides, what was I checking for? Two shadow unicorns had taken the time to say hello to me, and I hadn’t replied.
So unless I was going to hear from someone else, they would either be waiting to hear back or have lost interest. And that shouldn’t bother me nearly as much as it did because my previous unicorn experience hadn’t been inspiring.
I wasn’t dull if I was chatting with unicorns late into the night and then not bothering to reply to two of the rarest kind of all, was I?
This was a great story to tell at book club, although probably not Mom, who I didn’t think believed in shifters and if she did, might be worried about me marrying them.
She still hoped I’d marry someone from her church.
But I could leave out the unicorn part and tell her I’d signed up for a dating service, and she’d be reasonably happy with that.
So, done deal, and I didn’t need to do anything else to convince people I was more than someone who spent her day buried in books and the internet doing research. No more necessity to prove myself as an interesting person. Amen. The end.
Except…maybe I never needed to prove it to them. Sure, Mom wanted me to meet someone, but who else had ever called me boring? Nobody but…dammit! Nobody but me. And one conversation with a unicorn duller than me was not going to prove anything to the person who was dissatisfied with me.
Ugh! I hated to admit it. Me. It was me.
If I didn’t let go of expectations nobody but me had and stop judging myself, how would I ever take steps forward in life?
These two unicorns thought I was worth chatting up, and it was time I replied.
At least see if they were still interested in talking to me.
What was the actual time frame when a person should reply to someone on a dating app?
Having spent plenty of that time in my head, I swiped the phone screen and opened the app.
Another notification had come in, but I hadn’t heard it.
I understood sleeping through the first one but not the other.
A check of settings showed that I had somehow silenced notifications from apps.
Not the only time I’d managed to do that.
I adjusted the setting and opened the notification.
Shaman, one of the shadow unicorns, had sent a follow-up message. Nothing pushy, just hoping I’d gotten their previous notes and hoping I would like to talk soon. Nothing from the other guy, Juven. How odd. Or maybe not. What did I know?
Beyond the fact that I wanted to talk to these unicorns as soon as possible.
What should I say?
Hi, Shaman. Thanks for the follow-up. I did get your first message, but I had to get to work, so I didn’t have time to reply this morning. Isn’t your friend going to say hi?
A long moment passed while I wondered if they might keep me waiting just because I had done that to them. Sure, I had to work, but they had feelings too and might have been anxious.
Then the message came. Absolutely. He’ll be sorry that he missed your reply. He’s out on a gallop, but he’ll want to join as soon as he gets back. Want to video chat?
Panic. I’d been hunched over books and screens all day and hadn’t even done my hair or put on makeup this morning. The picture I used for the app was a rare good one. The camera in general did not love me, and I suspected video chat would be no better.
Amber?
I’m sorry. Yes, I’d love to video with you, but I just got home. Can you give me a few minutes to freshen up and get a cold drink first?
And eat. He sounded like one of those protective alphas in my books.
I skipped lunch. Why was I telling him that?
Promise me you’ll have some dinner before you come back on to talk with us? Why was it so sexy that he said that? I read too many novels!
Still, I will. Give me a half hour. I could throw a frozen dinner in the microwave while I did something with my hair, which I had pulled up into a messy ponytail at some point during the afternoon.
Take as long as you need.
I will.
Thirty minutes later, I’d flat-ironed my hair and put on some eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss, wishing I had foundation or something, but I so rarely dated, I hadn’t worn any makeup at all in a bit.
I used the last five minutes to gobble the ramen I made when I didn’t find anything better in the freezer.
Then I tried to find the best place to sit so I was lit decently, something I’d proven really bad at with work calls, and dialed the number he’d sent me while I was primping.