93 Sampler (3 page)

I tilt my head forward under the water to get the shampoo out. “Sof, that doesn’t make any sense because I am
not
 on a blind dating app.”

Her voice grows exasperated. “I’m looking at it right now, Ashton. It reads, and I quote, “Preston L., you have a 93% match with Audrey R. Would you like to send Audrey R. a message?”

I stifle a groan and shut off the water. So much for a relaxing shower. I take the green towel from the rack and wrap it around my waist. Stepping out the shower, I glare at Sofia. “Give me my phone,” I command.

“No.” I can hear the defiant tone of her voice setting in and I know that once Sofia reaches that point, it’s nearly impossible to get her onto your side.

Still, I hope she’s having one of her weaker-willed days. “Sof, now,” I demand.

“Nope,” she hurries away and begins laughing maniacally. Her fingers are flying over my phone screen and I scramble to catch up to her as she leaves my bathroom and goes out into the hall.

“Get back here, Sofia!” I have to hold my towel together, I’ve never been particularly coordinated, and I’m getting water drops into my eyes. Chasing after her is not an easy task. Finally I round the corner to see Sofia grinning at me, her teeth gleaming almost as bright as the wicked light in her eyes.

“Here,” she says, handing my phone back. I snatch it from her, fearful of whatever she’s managed to do for the few minutes it was in her possession.

My phone is on its home screen. I scroll through my recent calls and texts and see that she didn’t send anything to anyone. So why is she grinning? “What did you do?” I ask.

“I got you a date,” she announces, skipping off toward the kitchen.

“You
what
?”

“The girl you matched with, Audrey. I sent a message from your profile, or should I say, from
Preston’s
 profile.” I try not to roll my eyes at her. My parents named me Preston Ashton Lewis III, which is quite possibly the most pretentious name in the world. “That just proves this is a joke. Someone must have had my phone and made that account. Why else would I have used Preston? You know I hate that name.”

Sofia flings open the refrigerator door and pulls out a bag of grapes. She pops one into her mouth and shrugs. “Maybe you wanted to be more anonymous.”

I’m shaking my head. “I didn’t do this.” I open up the app and am surprised to see my profile, completely accurate. My age, my city, a questionnaire of likes and dislikes and opinions that fit me to a tee. A sinking feeling fills my gut and the lightbulb goes off in my head. “Oh shit,” I groan. “I did this while I was drunk.
That’s
 what I can’t remember. This is all because of that damn piss beer!” I exclaim.

“What is piss beer? Never mind, please don’t answer that. But you can’t blame the beer for this, man,” Sofia remarks. “
You’re
 the one who said you wanted a girlfriend.
You’re
 the one who joined a blind dating app while you were intoxicated. This is
your
 fault.” She’s grinning at me again. “And
you’re
 going on that date.”

I’m flipping through to the message she sent to Audrey.

So we’re a match! Would you like to get a cup of coffee at the shop on 4th ave?

It’s an innocent enough message, formal but not too formal, and Sofia didn’t use the shorthand texting that I hate so much. And I’m glad she let Audrey know we’d be in a public place.

 It’s too bad I’m not going.

“I’m not going on a date with a stranger. They could be a catfish, or a serial killer.”

“Well you have a 93% match with them so there’s only a small chance that they’d kill you.”

“That’s comforting.” I start to go to my room. I’m still just wearing a towel, and Sofia won’t take me seriously if I’m half naked.

I toss my phone on my bed and pull on some clothes. I’ve got to get to class. I don’t have time to worry about blind dates with catfishes. I pick up my phone to put it in the pocket of my jeans when it beeps. I look at the screen.

Blinder notification: New message from Audrey R.

I know I should just uninstall the app and move on but I’m an artist, dammit. Curiosity always gets the better of me. I click the icon and the full message pulls up.

From: Audrey R.

Yes, I would enjoy that. How about this Saturday evening at six p.m.?

        “You better say ‘yes,’” Sof has snuck up on me and is reading over my shoulder.

        “I don’t think-”

        “Ash, you’re twenty one years old. You’re brilliant, kind, and funny. And you’re graduating in May.” She puts a hand on my forearm and turns me toward her. “I know you’re tired of the playboy ways, okay? I
know
 you. I want you to be happy and I think we both know trying to put down some roots is what’s right for you.”

        The sincerity in her eyes takes me aback. Sofia is rarely completely serious and on the rare occasion that she is, she’s right about whatever she’s talking about. But I still don’t think this is a smart idea.

        I begin, “Sof, I-”

        She shushes me. “Stop. Just do this, one date, that’s all I’m asking. If it’s a bad experience, fine. Delete the app and try dating the old fashioned way. What have you got to lose? Please, Ash? ”

        The slight crack in her voice is what breaks me. There is absolutely nothing that I wouldn’t do for Sofia. We’ve been best friends our entire lives. She knows me better than I know myself. “Fine,” I mumble. “If you think it’s what I should do, I’ll do it.”

        I send a quick reply to Audrey and shove my phone into my pocket. Sof pulls me in for a hug. “See you later,” I say. I pick up my backpack and start making my way to the front door. I turn back and I see Sofia smiling at me. I take a deep breath and head off to class.

▲

        The week passes quickly and without event. My classes eventually run together. They’re mostly easy, with the exception of mixed media. That class is going to kick my ass if I don’t study hard. It’s Saturday afternoon and I have spent the better part of today thinking about my date with Audrey. There’s a light drizzle outside, and I have my smoky gray hoodie pulled up over my head as I step out of my car. A few people scurry on the sidewalks, in a hurry to get out of the rain but I’ve never understood why rain bothers people so much. It’s just water.

        Rucco’s is a quaint cafe on 4th Avenue, normally only populated by hipsters who consider the big chain coffeehouses to be too mainstream. When I walk in, it’s 5:50pm. The door I walk through is in the corner of the cafe, with the light brown counter directly across from where I stand. A wall lined with vivid green plants is to my left, as well as the restrooms. To my right are onyx black tables spread about, with a few seats each, a couple of leather window seats, and three booths in the far corner.

My hands are sweating. I haven’t been this nervous in a long time, not since I sent in my art portfolio to Northwestern State four years ago. I live an easy and laidback life. I have no reason to ever get
nervous
.

I take a seat in a warm booth, from which I can see the door. I tell myself not to get too comfortable. Audrey may want to sit elsewhere. Though I’m unsure how I will know when Audrey arrives. I have no idea what she looks like. According to Sofia,
Blinder
 doesn’t require the use of profile photos because the entire point is being set up on blind dates. As I wait for Audrey, I wonder what she looks like. Is she short? Tall? Black, like me? White? Blonde? I bet she’s blonde. Audrey is a blonde name.

Shit
, I think,
what if she doesn’t show up
?

        I take a deep breath and remind myself to relax, this is just an hour spent drinking coffee with a girl. I’ve done far wilder things than this.

        I wait for what seems like forever, and the young barista keeps glancing at me curiously, as if she’s wondering why I haven’t ordered anything yet. Finally, she walks up to where I’m sitting, a pen and pad in her hand. She tosses her thick mahogany hair over her shoulder and looks at me brightly, a megawatt grin plastered onto her face. “Is there anything I can get you?” She asks me and I have to force back an eye roll. I’ve been to Rucco’s enough times to know that they don’t send their baristas to take orders, so she must have grabbed a pen and paper as soon as she realized I was here alone.

        “No, thank you,” I tell her politely. “I’m just waiting for my date,” I inform her, hoping she’ll get the hint.

Apparently she does because her face falters but then her smile is back and she leans a bit closer to me. “Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do for you,” she whispers. “I’ll be over at the counter,” and I swear she winks at me. Some people have no shame. The barista walks back over to the counter, and I catch her glancing behind her to see if I’m watching her, and I am, but only because I’m trying to figure out if perhaps I’ve hooked up with her before. She’s definitely cute, in that bubbly cheerleader type of way. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s just another girl in my long string of one night stands.

Ugh, I’m terrible. Thinking about other girls when I’m about to meet another for a date? That is, if Audrey ever shows up. I glance down at my phone, checking the time. It’s 6:02. I’m normally pretty flexible with punctuality but every second she isn’t here is another second of me growing more and more anxious.

Suddenly, I remember that Audrey doesn’t know what I look like either. I decide to send her a message through the
Blinder
 app, where I see we haven’t spoken since Tuesday when I agreed to meet her here. Maybe she’s forgotten about our date.

        “
I’m in Rucco’s
,” I start, “
the booth toward the back corner
.” I press send. I’m the only guy sitting alone in a booth so she’ll know who I am. My foot immediately starts tapping on the wooden floor. I decide that if she’s not here within the next fifteen minutes, I’m going to call the date a bust and go home. Or maybe go take the barista up on her offer.

        After another minute or two passes, I hear the bell over the door of the shop ding as someone enters, but I’m too busy looking back at my phone, attempting to somehow form a psychic connection with Audrey through it and ask her if she’s still coming.

        “
Preston
?” A familiar, irritated voice says. I peer up from my phone and first see long, tan legs that go on for miles. Then a dark navy skirt, a matching blazer, dark russet hair, and finally her beautiful, yet clearly angry, face. She shoves her phone right into my line of view, our
Blinder
 messages staring back at me and I know that I am not hallucinating.

        My date, Audrey R., is none other than Carter Redford, the woman I’m pretty sure hates me.

This could
not
 be happening.
        Out of every single person in the twenty five mile radius that could have been matched with me, I ended up with
Ashton
?
        Wait a second…
        “
Preston
?” I ask, unsure if I’m confused or just annoyed at this point.
        I hold out my phone to show him the messages I’d exchanged with my match, hoping he’ll laugh and tell me he has no clue who Preston is.
        Instead he groans, and looks up at the ceiling. “Of freaking course…” he mutters.
        I’m pretty sure I’m in shock. My phone is still in his face, and I quickly try to gain some sort of composure by putting the device into my bag.
        “I don’t understand,” I begin, slowly. “Your name is
Ashton
.”
        I take the seat across from him, knowing I’ll be leaving any second anyway.
        “Funny, I was just about to say
your
 name is Carter,” he says, finally looking at me as he crosses his arms.
        I guess I do owe him an explanation. “Audrey Hepburn is my idol,” I say. “ I couldn’t use what most people would consider a guy’s name on a blind-date app. Also I had to make sure my parents didn’t find out,” I conclude, and it hits me that this is already the longest conversation we’ve ever had. “What’s your excuse?”
        He sighs, the look on his face telling me he’d rather be anywhere but here. “My full name is Preston Ashton Lewis III. For some reason, my drunk-ass self decided to use my first name when I made the account.” He rolls his eyes. “Stupid gas station piss,” he mumbles.
        I raise my eyebrows at him, but I can’t help giving a slight giggle at his words. I almost want to comment on his name, and the fact that he was apparently drunk when he agreed to go on a date with me, but the last part he mentioned has my attention. “Gas station
what
?” I ask, trying, and failing, to maintain my normal, polished, attitude.
        Ashton looks surprised, but grins. “Gas station piss. It was my twenty-first birthday, so Sofia and I bought some cheap beer from a gas station. Which did not taste good.” He shrugs and I find myself relaxing a little. Until his words really hit me.
        “Sofia?” I ask, curiously.
        He just nods. “Yeah, she’s my best friend. We grew up together.” He pauses for a second before adding, “she’s actually the one who convinced me to come here.”
        I smile. If he’s true to his word, and despite everything I trust him to not lie, he’s not a cheater. Just a guy with a girl best friend, which I can’t judge. “I get that. My best friend’s the one who told me about the app. He thought it would be a good idea.” I almost mention my parents and Chad, but realize it’s way too soon to bring anyone, especially Ashton, into that situation.
        “Oh, yeah? He thinks you need to loosen up or something?” He asks with a wink.
        And just like that I remember. I’m on a date with
Ashton Lewis
.
        I quickly hitch my bag onto my shoulder and move to stand up.
        “He has his reasons. I, however, don’t think this is going to work. Good luck on the app,” I say, fully intending to leave, delete
Blinder
, and tell Jackson he’s an idiot for suggesting this.
        “Wait.” Ashton lightly grabs my arm, stopping me from leaving. “Look, Carter, I know neither of us expected this, but we matched at 93%. I’m kind of new to this online dating stuff, but that seems like a good thing. Don’t we owe ourselves a chance to figure out
why
 we got such a high score?”
        I turn and look into Ashton’s dark emerald eyes. In them, I see how serious he is. I can practically feel his desire to keep talking to me. And something inside of me realizes it’s not all him; there’s a part of me wants to stay, too. So I nod, and I sit back down.
        “Okay,” I agree. “One hour. That’s all I can do.” I wish I were lying, but I’m not. One hour
is
 all I can spare, but I’m suddenly surprising myself by wishing I had more time.
        “An hour. Deal.” We’re both quiet and I notice that he’s fidgeting with his fingers, tapping them on the table. “So, I’ve never actually been on a blind date. How do these work?” Ashton asks, looking slightly pleased with
himself
. I can’t tell why, but I almost hope it’s because he got me to agree to stay.
        I bite my lip. While mother has spent years training me for the dates and meetings she sets me up on, I find that none of the information really works outside of the entertainment world.
        “I don’t know either,” I admit. “I think we’re supposed to talk over coffee until we find a mutual ground and proceed from there.”
        Ashton looks at me for a couple of seconds and shakes his head, a small grin on his face. “Okay, I’m uncomfortable just
hearing
 it explained that way. But you’re right, we definitely need coffee.”
        We make our way to the where a barista is standing, and I want to laugh when I notice she’s practically glaring at me. I can’t think of anything more cliche than this, but I refuse to even mention it. Instead I order my usual, a caramel iced latte. I pay for it before Ashton can even offer - who knows if he even would? - and stand back to let him make his order, a mocha soy latte with whipped cream. I can’t help but notice that even his drink sounds like something an artist would have, but I try not to make it obvious what I’m thinking.
        When we get our drinks, I want to laugh even harder at the fact that there seems to be a number written on the side of the cup, and I hear Ashton mutter something about people not taking a hint. Knowing that he was saying no to this woman before I even got here makes me smile. At least I can say he’s not a complete asshole when it comes to first dates.
        We make our way back to the table, and once again there’s silence.
        Eventually, Ashton sighs. “Okay, this isn’t working. What do we talk about?”
        I tilt my head, trying to think. I know we could talk about GDC, but I don’t know exactly what to say. “I don’t know,” I say, taking a sip of my coffee. “Usually my parents just talk about business, and my best friend tends to start a lot of our conversations.”
        His eyebrows raise. “That’s… kinda weird. So you’ve never just talked to someone because you
want
 to?”
        I frown.
Do I?
 I run through every recent conversation I’ve had. “I don’t think so. I mean, I talk a lot with Jackson, but like I said, he usually starts our conversations.” It makes me sound horrible, but I understand why my mother talks to me. Every conversation should have a purpose, shouldn’t it? Why else would I talk to anyone?
        “That’s insane. But who’s Jackson?”
        I’m surprised when Ashton looks serious. It’s a look I’ve really never seen on him, and despite all the time I’ve spent wishing he would care about anything, I’m not ready to see a completely new side of him just yet.
        “My best friend. I guess I never said his name.” I don’t see why it’s a huge deal, but I add an apology anyway. “Sorry.”
        In seconds, Ashton’s carefree smile is back. “Good to know. Now, tell me, because this is important,” he pauses, and I can tell he’s doing it for dramatic effect. “Did you pick cat or dog during the
Blinder
 questions?”
        He’s looking at the table, eyes shut tight as though bracing himself for bad news.
        I let out a shocked laugh, not entirely sure how to handle him. This isn’t a normal situation for me, so I just decide to answer. Besides, what’s the worst that can happen?
        “Dog?” I make it a question, trying to figure out if I gave the right answer.
        It takes a couple of seconds, and once again I notice he’s doing it for the effect, but eventually he lets out a breath.
        “Oh, thank God. You’re not a terrible person.”
        I can’t help but really laugh. I even find myself rolling my eyes, something that my mother thought she’d stopped me from doing years ago.
        Remembering my mother, I sober up slightly, but I try my best to keep the mood as is. “What would you have done if I’d said cat?”
        Ashton smiles, and there’s something so genuine about it, I feel my breath catch in my throat. I’m so distracted that I almost miss his response, which is a crazy reaction considering I barely even like him.
        
Right?
        “I guess I’d just have to cut this date short and lick my wounds,” he teases, nodding his head toward the front door and shrugging.
        “You wouldn’t, though,” I say without thinking, and I almost want to hit myself for saying it.
        He tilts his head. “And why’s that?”
        Despite the unease I’m feeling at the way I’m acting, I let myself smirk. Once again I’m doing something my mother has warned me against ever doing; she’d be having a fit if she could see me now.
        Oddly enough, the thought gives me the courage to keep talking. Isn’t this why Jackson convinced me to sign up for
Blinder
 in the first place? To get me away from my parents for even one date?
        I’m running my mind through every single romantic comedy I’ve ever seen to try and make myself seem interesting and flirty. I look up at him through my eyelashes and smile. “Because you’re too curious about why we’re somehow here together.” I don’t know if what I’m saying makes sense. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to figure out
why
 I’m being so… brazen. I guess I’m just as curious as he is.
        “You caught me,” Ashton concedes.
        I’m relieved. Despite my initial thoughts of Ashton, I’m actually having a good time, and I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.
        “So, I guess now I need to ask you something,” I begin.
        When Ashton sends me a questioning look, I feel my heart speed up just a little. It concerns me, but I push the feeling to the side; I can worry about it later.
        “Did you pick city or country? Because that’s a deal breaker right there.”
        “Oh, city. Hands down. Way better than the country.”
        I sigh, trying to fake disappointment. “Oh, Ashton, how could you? I thought we had something special.”
        “Country girl, huh? I wouldn’t have expected that. Don’t you live in the city?”
        I take a deep breath. I never thought I’d admit this to anyone, but here I am readily about to tell a guy I didn’t think I could stand until ten minutes ago. There’s a brief thought that with his calming attitude, he’d make a great reporter for Redford Entertainment, but I push the thought aside; this is not the place for any of that.
        Instead, I answer his question, being honest about something even Jackson doesn’t really know. “Yeah, I live in the city. I’m tired of it. I’d love to live out somewhere quiet for once in my
life
.”
        Ashton nods. “Alright. I can see that. Still, it’s not something I’d have thought you’d say.” He finishes off his drink, and I realize I still have a lot of mine left, so I take a long sip of it as he starts talking again. “So, let’s see if you can surprise me again. Why are you in GDC? It doesn’t seem like your kind of of thing.”
        The question surprises me. Despite the fact that I’d thought of asking him about it earlier, too, I didn’t think it would come up.
        I take a while to collect my thoughts, needing to figure out how much I can say at this point. We’re getting along, which is shocking enough on it’s own, but we’re definitely not at a point where I can talk about my parents too much. Admitting a desire to live in the country is one thing. Parents are too… intimate. Besides, I don’t feel comfortable yet telling him about my love of web design.
        Finally, I say, “it’s interesting. There’s so many forms of graphic design. There’s paper, canvas, different versions of online methods… It’s just really nice to see what people can do when they have the right tools.” It’s not a lie, I do think this, but it’s also not even close to the whole truth.
        There’s a look in his eyes when I finish my explanation, but I do not want to even try analyzing it, so I quickly ask him why he’s in GDC. He has the artist look, but for all I know, he’s in GDC for another reason.
        However he just shrugs. “I’m an artist. I figure it’s good to join clubs that show where you’re gonna go in life. And it’s mostly free, so what’s the harm?”
        “Good point. I’ve noticed you spend a lot of time in there doodling,” I mention, then freeze when I realize how that could sound. “Not that I watch you or anything,” I say, but Ashton just smirks.
        “Who knew you’ve secretly been pining for me all these years?” He jokes.
        I take another long drink. “We’ve only been in GDC together for one year,
Preston
,” I emphasize the name, and I feel a brief moment of surprise when I realize how easy it is to let go around him; I usually can’t do this with anyone else but Jackson.
        
Maybe I’ve been too harsh with him…
 I start to think, but I push the thought away. It’s too early to decide I’ve been wrong. But I can’t deny that I don’t hate him as much as I thought I did.
        Ashton opens his mouth to say something, but my phone starts blaring out my mother’s ringtone. I give him an apologetic look, but move away from the table to answer the phone.
        “Good evening, mother,” I say when I’m far enough away, and I hate that I can hear my tone changing.
        “Carter, darling, I hope you didn’t forget you have a meeting with your father and me tonight. We’re sending a car for you. It should be there in the next thirty minutes. We’ll be having dinner at
Marco’s
. Please be dressed for the occasion.”
        I take a quick glance at Ashton, who seems to be alternating between browsing his phone and looking at me.
        I can’t help but feel a pang of regret when I realize I’m going to have to leave right now in order to make it on time.
        I stop myself from sighing, choosing instead to straighten my back.
We do what we have to do for the Redford name