"If a turtle doesn't have a shell, is it naked or homeless?"
-Fortune Cookie
"Sugar," he mouthed the word, a smirk pulling at his lips. "I like the sound of it. Any particular story behind your name?"
"Yes, there is."
I had my story scripted and down to a "t." Since this was a "first date" and all, after messaging for a month, I felt like I was able to give extra details and explain more of my grandmother. Simple messages through TrueMatch were hard, especially in my retelling. He wasn't a stranger passing by on the street. I could read his body language. I'd be able to gauge if he was connected and engaged with my past.
"Hopefully an interesting one," he whispered to himself.
I paused. What did he mean by that? I leaned back into the cold metal chair. Not without shivering, my arms wrapped around each other. I glanced down at my peppermint hot chocolate, waiting for it to cool down. I didn't want to burn my tongue.
"Go on," he urged. I flinched under his gaze. I guessed he was trying to encourage me . . . just the way his tone was.
"My grandmother called me that," I responded.
His chuckle broke my script.
I hadn't expected a laugh. It wasn't a comedy. It was a nice, sweet memory.
I brought my hands up on the coffee table. It was late morning, and the grounded coffee beans fermented the atmosphere. The baristas yelled at each other, striding to get their orders done. Customers either had their phones out waiting, chatting with another person, or stood staring at the baristas, waiting for their drink order.
"Why did you laugh?" I asked.
He crossed his arms over his chest. I leaned away, taking his demeanor in.
His profile picture didn't do him justice. There were no blemishes on his face. His clean shaven chin had small stubs of hair trying to grow back. Looking up from his chin, it was his eyes, the oval shape held intensity - never faltered. His brunette hair seemed organized in its own way; curls were around his ears and near his forehead, and the rest looked like small hills connecting each curl to the other.
Why did I agree to do this date?
It was as clear as Oreo Cookie Dirt. He was a man-whore. A heartbreaker player. A scallywag.
"Nothing I expected," he stated.
He leaned his shoulders back, opening his chest more. His legs spread out under the coffee table, verging over on my side.
He knew he had the looks. Of course, he did! Over 100K hearts (which indicated that users believe he was attractive). Not before long, there will be a chili pepper to indicate his undeniable charm compared to the hearts that indicate how kind and loving he was. Maybe I should send a customer service inquiry to TrueMatch . . . . with the idea. It'll enhance the engagement on the system.
I remembered a user stated Oliver being "McSteamy and McDreamy all in one," on his profile wall.
"I'm sorry I didn't meet your expectations," I hissed.
I was sure he had another date right after this, thirty minutes apart. He possibly had three locations and rotated between them. Yeah, I had him figured out.
"Sugar," the way he enunciated my name. It was smooth with a hint of longing. Ew.
His long fingers grazed the top of my knuckles.
"You exceeded my expectations," he said, leaning over closer to my space. "Have I reached yours?"
His whole hand glided on top of mine. My palm heated up the coffee table, and I slowly slipped my hand away from him. My handprint was left on the cheap material surface.
"You've accomplished all of mine," I huffed.
The corner of his lips twitched and then revealed his dashing smile. Almost too perfect.
"I've read your profile. You read mine. We know each other. Why don't we get out of here and go somewhere private?" he asked.
I gripped on the metaphorical reins. This wasn't what I wanted.
"Hold on, there Oli," I teased his online nickname. I clenched the oval table's side. "Aren't you going to tell me about your personal life? Other than, and I quote 'I'm a dog and cat lover. Who needs to fight?' "
Oliver chuckled before he took a sip from his black coffee. No sugar, no cream, and none of those diluters that removed the actual taste of coffee. At least, that was what he explained when I asked him if he needed anything from the containment station.
"Let me guess," he teased, "You're a dog lover."
His fingers tapped on his cardboard coffee cup. His left hand stayed where we touched hands.
"Wrong. I'm a turtle lover," I snapped. "What's your family like?"
"Coke or Pepsi?" he interjected.
"I'm being serious," I declared. My elbows tightened in. I disliked how he made me feel small and stupid when I was clearly asking the more suitable questions.
"So am I. I can't have any of my kids drink Coke. It would be a disgrace," he grinned.
I bit my bottom lip. "I guessed right. Family issues."
Oliver's playful smile disappeared. He leaned forward, and his legs were brought back over to his side. I inhaled again. Both hands held onto his cup.
"I guessed right." His gaze left his drink and stared into my eyes. "Judgmental."
My eye twitched. It was a stressed symptom that Mama discovered I had in third grade, whenever I didn't know the answer to a math question on my homework. My right eye twitched. My eyelashes tickled my cheeks. I crossed my arms. In my knee length dress, the collar touched my neck, and the material displayed my curves; I was comfortable, but under his gaze I itched like crazy.
"You're an arrogant, model, pretty boy who thinks that if he bats his eyelashes he can get whatever he wishes. You're sadly mistaken," I declared.
"You're an over-analyst that wants every little detail correct so then you can check it off your list of things to keep in line. Tell me I'm wrong," he replied.
"You're completely wrong," I defended.
"You're wrong too," he said. "You don't know anything about me. I don't know anything about you. Why don't we go our own ways and never speak or message each other again?"
"That sounds perfectly fine."
I thanked God. I was going to tell him first because it was my idea. I knew right from the get go this was a mistake. An enormous mistake.
With the quickness of my hand, I reached behind me, grabbing onto my long purse strap and positioned it over my shoulder. With my left hand, I picked up my drink.
I opened my mouth to give a last farewell to Mr. Charmer.
"Have a nice day, Sugar."
But he beat me to it. That little -
Oliver never stood up. He didn't make any eye contact.
His whole focus was on his smartphone. His thumbs tapped and slid on the glass screen.
I pursed my lips. Turning on my black heels, I strutted away from the coffee table. The atmosphere seemed to simmer down. The baristas started to walk, instead of running between machines to get all the orders completed.
That was it? My heels stopped clicking on the floor. My fingers did a small wave on my leg. I shook my head.
Turning around, I found that Mr. Oliver McDreamy was still on his phone. Before I could overthink the situation for the millionth time, I asked. "Why did you agree to meet?"
He glanced up from his smart phone. His posture reverted back to leaning against the metal chair. His left leg made home on the side I was on. He stared into my caramel eyes.
With a small movement, his shoulders shrugged.
"I wanted to see if your boobs were real or fake."
I didn't remember what I did next.
All I remembered was the scream.
It wasn't my scream. No.
The scream escaped Oliver's lips as I dumped my peppermint hot chocolate in his lap.
Mwhahaha. Oh gosh. I didn't mean to sound that creepy.
I'm going to be honest. This chapter never gets old. I keep giggling even though I do feel bad for Oliver. That was a fun chapter to write! I wished it was longer but I wanted to keep it short, sweet, and to the point.
I wanted to show more of what he would do after the date. But, I think the ending of this chapter was a nice punch.
I hope you guys are enjoying it!
What do you think of "Oliver"?
Sugar? What's up with her? Why was she asking him, why they met up when in fact she doesn't know why she agreed in the first place.
What can you say? The oldest cliche in the book: Curiosity killed the cat.
I want to give a huge shout out to CutieFlutie ! She's amazing, and I mean that in all the definitions for that word, and she's been patience with my slow updates. Her comments make me smile so big that it almost hurts my face. She has been fantastic, and I'll stop because I'll keep on babbling; please go check out her stories. I'm major fan-girling over her story called: Emma and Her Wattpad Story. Plus, she's a great friend! Thank you!! Thank you!! 😊❤️😄
Thank you for reading, commenting, and talking with me!