Then I round the corner, and I see him. Danny, restocking a shelf.
He glances my way, then stops.
I stop as well, a smile on my face.
That’s when some random coworker of his steps right in front of me, blocking my view. “Can I help you find something, sir?” he asks sweetly.
I keep my eyes on Danny as I answer the guy. “I’m wondering if you might have any supplements that can help me.”
“Of course, sir. What do you need?”
“I need something for a broken heart.”
Danny smirks.
The guy sputters. “I-I … uh …”
“I also need something for a wounded, overinflated ego,” I add, still watching Danny. “Something to curb my odd tendency lately of being mean. I’ve been a bad friend, a bad date, and a bad human being.”
The guy clears his throat. “I’m not sure we have anything that—”
Danny cuts in. “Or maybe you can just … ask me nicely to try again.”
The guy steps aside, surprised, then belatedly realizes Danny and I have been having a sort of secret conversation over his head.
I come forward. “Try again?”
“Sure.” Danny approaches me, too. “Let’s have dinner. I think I’d like that. An honest, respectable dinner with an honest, respectable man.”
We’re in front of each other now. “Are you sure I’m either of those things?”
“I’ve seen what I’ve seen of you lately,” reasons Danny, “so all I can do is cross my fingers and hope for the best.”
“Sounds like a better strategy for a craps table.”
“Probably is.”
I’m right in front of him. I realize the people at the counter have stopped chatting. Someone else has poked his head out from between the aisles. We have a little audience. I wonder how many of them know exactly who I am, if Danny’s told them, if they’ve been his support system.
“But,” he goes on, “I have a suspicion my chances might be better with you.”
“You sure about that?”
“Nope.”
He still smells the same—clean and inviting, like a precious home I want to live in forever. His eyes are two pools of ageless memories and hope that I’m desperate to dive back into. The soft, subtle way his lips always appear to be on the edge of cracking a smile—that’s the essence of Danny that steals my heart. There is something so sweet yet strong about him, something I don’t think I’ll ever find adequate words for.
So I ask the question. “Do you want to get some dinner with me tonight, Danny Chen?”
Danny seems to weigh the question as he gazes into my eyes. He has such a beautiful way of holding me hostage, like he knows each and every one of my thoughts, my doubts, and my desperate hopes.
Then Danny smiles. “Sure.”
My lungs fill with my next breath at last, tasting sweet, sweet relief. “Yeah? You will?”
“Where shall we meet?”
“How about your favorite dim sum place? Seven?”
“Sounds perfect.” He nods at me. “See you there … Romeo.”
With that, he slips away, returning to his task of stocking a shelf. I glance to the side, and the people at the counter quickly turn away, resuming their business. I realize after a while that I’m just standing there in a daze. Maybe a part of me didn’t think he’d actually give me another shot.
Am I the luckiest motherfucker in this whole city?
“Yes,” answers Jonathan an hour later when I’m home. He fidgets near my closet door as I bury myself in it in search of an outfit after my shower. “You are definitely lucky to get another shot, and I’m happy for you, but you still haven’t told me enough about Prisha. Is she single? Is she into art? Is she, like, a Level 9 Clinger and I should avoid her at all costs?”
I pull another shirt from the closet, then fling it away with dejection. I just had a shower, I have nothing but a towel around my waist, and I’m a total wreck. What the hell do I wear? “Truth is, Jonty, I think she’s way out of your league, far too serious for you, and you should help me find an outfit in this messy closet before I lose my mind.”
“Too serious? What do you mean by that?”
“Is this overdressing too much?” I slap a nice shirt to my chest and look in the mirror. Then I swap it out for a shirt and tie combo. “Maybe I should overdress. Y’know, to give a good impression.”
“Do you think I’m …?” Jonathan leans against the wall, all the steam fleeing his system. “You think I’m not good enough for your friend? Is that it?”
“She is a one of a kind. She is special in so many ways. She is smart. She is driven. She is not just a fun time. Does that sound like the kind of woman you go for?”
“Well, no, but I—”
“Prisha is the real deal, Jonty, and—”