Page 9 of What Did I Miss?

With a looming deadline and a car to win, there’s no time for distractions. Makayla swipes up, praying the algorithm will do its thing.

The next guy to appear is Scott, thirty-two, with luscious waves and thick black glasses. He claims to work in law enforcement. Surely that’s code for police officer. A man in uniform might take this up a notch. What the hell.

Makayla hits CONNECT .

This date was a HUGE mistake.

Makayla wishes she was spending her Friday night anywhere else other than dining at Mamma Rosa. The Italian restaurant is like a modern-day Noah’s Ark, lined with couples who seem more interested in staring at their phones than having a conversation.

Then there’s Scott, sitting across from her, looking suave in a khaki shirt that makes his brown eyes pop.

Too bad he’ll forever be known as ‘The Blob’.

It’s been ten minutes since they finished their mains, and for that entire time, Makayla has been transfixed by a chunky piece of bolognese that’s attached itself to Scott’s clean-shaven chin.

She should tell him. All it’d take is a subtle gesture and he’d get the hint, but she’s said nothing, and now it’s too late to bring it up. He’ll realise it’s been there for ages and she hasn’t said anything.

It’s impossible to take in a single word because all that’s going through her mind is ‘blob, blob, blob’. When he laughs, the meat jiggles and Makayla prays it will fall off. It doesn’t. Probably crusted over and permanently stuck to his face.

A server with a sleek ponytail – who clearly isn’t Italian, going by the way she bastardised the specials – returns to the table to entice them with dessert.

Handing Scott the menu, her eyes ping open as wide as her false eyelashes will allow.

She definitely sees the blob. Like Makayla, she’s not brave enough to mention it.

Scott and Makayla had spent the week messaging back and forth.

Every day she woke up to Good morning, beautiful .

Of course, she rolled her eyes, figuring he didn’t use her name because he was batch texting all the women he’s in contact with.

But who cares if she’s one of many? Makayla’s here for a good time, not a long time.

Also, she was right, he is a police officer; they had a nice flirty exchange about handcuffs.

Now, however, all she can think about is chaining him to a bed and giving his face a good scrub.

‘The mousse sounds like a winner. Wanna share?’ Scott asks, sounding desperate to prolong the evening.

Unable to speak, Makayla shakes her head, annoyed to find he’s placing the order.

Knowing her luck, he’ll get chocolate on his nose too.

It reminds her of the time she went to a cafe with Cece and her daughter smeared puree all over her face.

It’s forgivable on a one-year-old, but it’s embarrassing for an adult.

Beau has a beard and not once has he had so much as a crumb stuck in it.

Why am I thinking about Beau?

‘You’re a good listener,’ Scott says, leaning closer.

‘The last woman I met talked so much, I got a headache.’ He laughs at his own comment, oblivious to the tension building in Makayla’s frontal lobe.

She racks her brain for an excuse to leave.

Before she can think of any, he jumps in with, ‘What are you doing next weekend? Maybe we can go to blob, blob, blob …’

He wants to catch up again? God no! It’s time for her to end this nightmare.

Makayla takes a deep breath. ‘Look, blob … I mean, Scott. I’m not really interested in anything serious at the moment, so … umm … yeah. Thank you, but no thank you.’

Assuming he’ll be crushed, she braces for his response, and frowns in confusion when he breaks into an unexpected smile.

‘I didn’t realise you were DTF. I must’ve missed that on your profile. Wish I’d known. We could’ve skipped dinner and gone straight for dessert.’ Scott tugs at his shirt collar.

Despite his mild attractiveness and man-in-uniform appeal, there’s no way she’s going home with The Blob.

There has to be a way to fix this, and fast. Scott’s five steps ahead, waving his arms to get the server’s attention. He’ll probably deploy lights and sirens to get them back to his place.

‘Whoa, slow down, tiger,’ Makayla whispers.

The couple next to her are receiving a barrage of messages – they’re probably texting about this awful date.

‘I’ve never done the online dating thing and I just wanted to see what it was like.

For a bit of fun. Not the fun you’re thinking of. The PG kind. You understand, right?’

The entire chorus of ‘That’s Amore’ plays in the background before Scott replies.

‘Of course. No problem. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to use the little boys’ room.’ The table wobbles as he stands.

Makayla relaxes into her seat, relieved to have come clean. She would never sleep with a grown man who refers to the bathroom that way.

Scrolling mindlessly, she’s interrupted by the server’s throat-clearing cough. Vanilla wafts from the blown-out candles on the empty tables around her. How long was she on her phone? Where’s Scott?

‘Sorry,’ the server utters, hand shaking as she relinquishes the bill. ‘He told me to wait ten minutes before giving this to you.’

The red-pen scrawl across the top reads: Thanks for wasting my time! He’s stiffed her with the bill. Turns out he is mad, and vengeful.

‘A hundred and seventy bucks?’ Makayla shrieks. How can two bowls of pasta cost that much?

‘He ordered some food to go and took a bottle of wine,’ she explains with sympathetic eyebrows.

Is that legal? Even if it’s not, she can’t exactly call the cops. Everyone knows they look out for their own. Makayla hands over her debit card, defeated by another disastrous experience. She grabs her phone to call the only person who’ll want to (and has to) hear about this.

‘You’ll never guess what happened.’

Cece gasps on cue and is suitably horrified by Scott’s behaviour.

‘I’m done with the list and men. They’re all scum.’ Quinn was right.

‘Oh, no, no, no. I’m not letting you off the hook that easy.

Everyone has bad dates. If you want to know what you’ve been missing out on, this is it, my friend.

Do you know how many frogs I met before Jimmy?

It’s a rite of passage – everyone has to have a horror story.

Something to entertain your guests with at dinner parties. ’

What dinner parties? Cece must be sleep deprived if she’s forgotten that the only thing Makayla can cook is burnt toast.

‘Give it one more shot. I’ve booked you in for speed dating next Saturday. The women choose the men. You’ll be in complete control.’

‘Fine,’ Makayla huffs, glad Cece’s keeping her on track. This isn’t as easy or fun as she’d imagined.

Meet someone on a dating app ?