Jerk

Danny, sweet as ever, lifts his beer to him. “Just enjoying a drink with my friend Romeo.”

Joey glances at me. It may be the first time he’s ever acknowledged my existence. Then he turns back to Danny without even a hello. “Let’s get outta here. The boys are meeting up at King’s for a few drinks. Quick is DJ-ing.”

“Haven’t you had enough already?”

Joey scoffs. “Yeah, whatever, mommy. I’ll wait at the door.” He slips back into the apartment.

Danny meets my surprised gaze, then shrugs. “He’s a bit to handle sometimes, but I love the guy. You know how it is.” He gives my shoulder a nudge. “You’ll understand that soon enough when you’ve got one of your own! Someone out there is waiting for you, someone amazing.”

“I hope so.”

He goes for the window, then lingers as he gazes back at me. “See you around, Romeo.” Then my eyes snap to his cute butt as he hops through the window and disappears into the crowd inside, leaving me on the fire escape with the late-night noises of the city—and my thoughts.

And after a glance at his cute butt, my thoughts are nothing good right now.

I pull my phone out and bring up the guy who swiped right on my profile, then study his face with a mounting sense of determination.

“Yeah,” I say out loud, narrating my reply as my thumbs tap out the words. “Let’s meet up for a movie.”

5. Popcorny

He’s over twenty minutes late.

I don’t mind. I’m not that thrilled about the movie of choice—a zombie thriller with an eye-roll of a title I’ve already forgotten—so I’m content to just hang out in the lobby until he arrives. Also, it’s Sunday afternoon, I have work in the morning, and I had no other plans.

In the meantime, I text back and forth with Prisha, who is busy planning out her game night she can’t wait to host. The only two roped into the plans so far are Juan from the office and Prisha’s neighbor Marissa. A game of Monopoly is on the itinerary. Also a rematch of Clue, assuming we can even get to it. She also mentioned a round of charades or Pictionary to start with for a “quick warm-up”, both of which are Prisha’s favorites to play with me since we practically read each other’s minds. I’m not sure how late she plans this game night to go considering it’s on a Thursday, but Fridays tend to be a blow-off day at the office anyway.

“Rome, sir?”

Sir …? I turn around, expecting to find one of the movie theater ushers, dolled up in a bowtie and vest, perhaps handing me something I dropped.

Instead, I see my date: skinny, tall, pale except for his flushed red cheeks with an exorbitant amount of freckles, bright coppery-red hair, wearing a Nintendo t-shirt tucked into a pair of low-hanging black slacks with a belt, and a large pair of glasses resting on his nose. Is he going for casual or dressy? Twenty-six years old, yet still looks like a freshman in college. His eyes are bright and eager, like my existence just made him the happiest boy on Earth.

And … fuck, I completely forgot his name. “Hey there,” I vaguely greet my date.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Then his face collapses. “I’m so sorry I’m late. It won’t happen again.”

It’s like I’m his boss and he just disappointed me on his first day of employment. “Oh, it’s okay. I was just—”

“Really, it’s fine if you’re displeased with me in any way. I’ll make it up to you. Have you gotten the popcorn? I’ll get you some popcorn.” He hurries to the counter of the concession stand behind me as I stare after him, bewildered. “Hi, thanks, I’d like a large popcorn,” he tells the bowtie-wearing worker, “for my patient and wonderful date Romeo.” He turns back to me. “What’s your favorite soda? Can I get you a drink as well?”

“I, uhm …”

“Will a large Coke appease you?”

Appease me …? “Sure.”

Relief crashes over his face. He turns back to the worker. “A large Coke, please.”

I can’t say I’m used to being so “served” on a date. Is this what our life would be like, if I continue to date this guy and things got serious? Breakfast in bed every morning. Him cooking me dinner every night and laying a napkin over my lap before I eat. Shoulder massages and chocolates on Valentine’s Day and a thoughtful gift every anniversary.

Perhaps I should remember his name first before I go projecting too far into our hypothetical future.

Benjamin? Benny? Bradley? Brian?

We take a seat in the back of the theater, as the previews are already over and the movie itself has begun. To my surprise, he got the popcorn and drink solely for me, not to share. “No, really,” he insists, “I got this to make up for my being late. It’s all yours. I can hold the popcorn for you if you’d like. Yeah, I’ll hold it for you, so it doesn’t bother your lap or burden you in any way.” He keeps the tub of popcorn in his lap, then eyes me. “Oh. Do you want some now?”