When I arrive, I recognize him from his profile picture immediately because he’s wearing the same shirt. It’s red with a huge picture of a wolf on it. He’s already drinking a cup of coffee so I go through the line and get a blueberry muffin and a latte. At least that will give me something to do if we don’t hit it off.
Five minutes later, I stop next to his table. He looks up from the book he’s reading and then stands so fast his chair falls over. The woman sitting at the next table gives him a dirty look.
“You must be Drew.” I stick out my hand, hoping to avoid the social pressure to hug hello.
I’ve never really understood that one. Hugging someone you’ve just met is the height of weird but it’s suddenly a thing. Refusing only makes you seem standoffish so I’ve been subjected to more stranger hugs in recent years than I’m really comfortable with.
“I am. Drew, I mean.” He sticks out his hand and then proceeds to shake mine vigorously.
Before he can make any other sudden moves, I sit at the table. He takes his seat again, pushing aside his book.
“What are you reading? Anything interesting?”
He flips it over. “Nothing. Just a graphic novel.”
My eyes land on the picture of a middle-aged man on the back cover. He’s wearing a suit and looks pretty serious. Not that older men can’t write graphic novels but the author photo on the back looks like someone who is about to give a lecture about calculus.
“Graphic novels are cool. I like true crime novels and mysteries.”
Why does conversation feel so forced? I look around frantically, hoping to come up with something else we can talk about. A barista behind the counter yells out a name and someone walks up to the counter.
“Nice coffee shop. I’ve never been here before.” I figure that’s as innocent a conversation topic as can be found. Now that I’ve served the ball, it’s up to him to return it.
“I like this place. I come here during the week a lot to work on my screenplay. Achoo!” He covers his face with the crook of his elbow. “Sorry. Allergies.”
“Oh it’s fine. I get allergies, too. So you’re writing a screenplay? That’s exciting. What’s it about?”
That was way too enthusiastic but hopefully if he’s talking about himself it won’t feel like I’m dragging conversation out of him word by word.
“It’s about a guy who puts his heart and soul into loving a woman.”
Okay.
“That sounds–”
“He gives her everything and then she just rips his heart out. After that he’s a broken shell of a man. A living corpse walking around the city looking for a reason to exist. It’s a zombie movie.”
Of course it is.
His eyes search mine and I take a huge bite out of my blueberry muffin.
“Mmm. Mmm hmm.”
Apparently that passes as understanding because he launches into a long description of the plot. I nod every few sentences and try to look alive. I was already hungover this morning but this date is making my head hurt worse than the tequila.
“Achoo! Anyway, the long road is symbolism for the journey I had to take to get over the breakup. I mean the journey he had to take. The character, I mean.”
“Right.”
His arm has moved off the book on the table and I can see the spine now. The title is Get Over Your Ex Already.
I sigh.
Ariana owes me big for this one. After the fiasco with “Shy Clint” last night, my patience for nonsense is set to zero. At least I got a blueberry muffin out of the deal. Once I take some more pain medication and my head doesn’t feel like it’s about to split open, I’ll be able to enjoy it.
“So this has been great but I really have to go.”
He pauses mid-sentence. “You do? But we haven’t had a chance to talk about our compatibility yet. Our goals.”