Page 47 of Only With Me

“Nighty-night.”

Once I close my laptop, I roll off the bed and go brush my teeth. Then I check my phone and unknowingly smile when I see a text from him he sent earlier.

Mystery Guy: We’re still on for tomorrow at noon, right? Pink bow in hair?

Harlow: Yep. I’ll be there.

Harlow: Wait. Pink bow in my hair or yours?

I’m obviously teasing, but I know he’ll go along with it.

Mystery Guy: I was hoping you because I just ran out of pink ribbon the other day.

Harlow: Ha! So how will I know who you are?

Mystery Guy: I’ll be in a cowboy hat.

Harlow: You and every other man.

Mystery Guy: Ha! Don’t worry, I’ll find ya.

Harlow: Okay, can’t wait.

Mystery Guy: See ya soon.

Harlow: Night!

Butterflies invade my stomach at the thought of finally meeting him.

As long as Natalie’s warning doesn’t become a reality.

I don’t know what it is about him, but chatting each day and talking about normal stuff has me excited to finally put a face and name to the mystery guy behind the screen.

We’ve made enough small talk where it makes sense to add in more details about my past and not worry he’ll treat me differently once he knows.

I’m anxious, but I’ve never been giddier about meeting someone either.

My nerves are on fire as I sit at one of the tables in The Grindhouse.

By how hard my heart’s beating and how fast my leg’s bouncing, I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous in my life.

Not even for my first show horse jumping competition. I didn’t have this overwhelming urge to throw up. That seems like a breeze compared to this.

But I focus on the beautiful holiday decorations around the café and try to settle my nerves. With Christmas only a few days away, downtown is covered in holiday spirit.

As planned, I put my hair up in a half ponytail and wrapped a pink ribbon around it, then tied it into a bow. I put on a matching color maxi dress that flows to my ankles and a white cardigan over my shoulders since it’s chilly outside. When Iworked on Tuesday, I bought a new pair of tan boots that go halfway up my calves.

I look cute as hell if I say so myself.

When I sent Natalie a full-mirror selfie, she replied that I looked hot enough to put any man into cardiac arrest.

Let’s hope that doesn’t happen, but I do hope he’s not disappointed in who I am.

Truthfully, I’m not sure what I expect, but I’m ready to find out.

At a quarter after twelve, I check my texts in case he messaged about being late.

Nothing.