Page 22 of Not Your Basic Love Story

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’m excited to meet you. Again.”

“Same,” I said, butterflies reemerging.

We said goodbye, and I ended the call before I could say anything to ruin it.

I texted Miranda quickly, who replied right away with an ‘I told you so!’ Wink-face emoji, eggplant emoji, heart emoji. Classic Miranda.

Saturday could not come fast enough. I’d never planned a date before, and it was nerve-racking! Most of the places I liked revolved around their fab drink menu, but with Dev, that was off the table. Ooh! I knew the best taco place. Wait. I shouldn’t remind him of Mexico, not when we’re trying to have a fresh start.

Then, I found it—the perfect date.

After another bland week, Saturday night finally arrived. It was raining, as per usual. It took me an hour to get dressed, snapping pictures and sending them to Miranda until she’d finally had enough. I went with my booty-enhancing Freddy jeans (I needed all the help I could get), realistic two-inch pumps, and a V-neck shirt that went well with my spring jacket and yellow umbrella. I took the Skytrain downtown and then waited for Dev in a whiskey bar, having one to settle my nerves. I’m not an alcoholic by any means, but I didn’t know how Dev could go through life without the occasional drink to calm himself. Perhaps it was because he was naturally so chill.

He texted me. ‘Here.’

Having pre-paid for my drink, I slammed the rest of it back before stepping out into the rain to find him. I didn’t have to look long.

I flashed back to the first time seeing him on the plane, how he’d taken my breath away. He turned as if in slow motion, his dazzling smile lighting up his perfectly symmetrical features. His sense of style was again on point, dressing much better than I had; dark-wash jeans and a brown jacket unzipped to reveal a navy sweater. He sidled up, black umbrella with a shiny wooden handle in his left hand, his right extended out to me.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m Dev.”

“Rebecca,” I grinned.

For a long moment, we simply looked at one another, hands held mid-shake.Click. Everything snapped back into place as if nothing had ever been amiss.

I led him across the street to a restaurant where people dined completely in the dark. It initially sounded like fun but I was now a little uncertain.

“If this is too weird, we can go somewhere else,” I offered.

“Are you kidding? This is awesome! Except there’s one problem,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“I won’t get to look at you.”

I blushed. He had a point. We perused the menus and gave our orders to the hostess, who then introduced us to our server, who was an extremely charismatic woman who was blind. She explained how everything worked before leading us into the restaurant. They weren’t lying. It was pitch black. I held onto the server’s shoulders, Dev held onto my waist, and we got to our table and sat down.

Right away, Dev and I launched into a light conversation about nothing in particular. He was a natural conversationalist, the world’s easiest person to talk to, as there was always the right amount of give and take— even without visual cues in the complete darkness. The drinks were tasty, and the food was delicious, though it was a little unnerving not being sure what you were putting in your mouth and being somewhat surprised by the texture. I had chicken; Dev went for the vegetarian option.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were vegetarian!” I said between bites. How had I not noticed before? “Is it like with drinking, you’ll eat meat on occasion?”

“I try not to unless it would be extremely rude not to eat what’s being offered.”

“I tried to go vegan once, but only lasted a month. I lived off of yam fries and guacamole.”

“Vegan isn’t necessarily healthy like some people think. Ritz crackers are vegan.”

“Same with Oreos.”

“I love Oreos.”

“Is your whole family vegetarian?”

“Most everyone. Some of my cousins are looser about it, like about drinking. My parents and grandparents are more strict.”

We fell into a bit of a silence.

“You know,” I said, “I hadn’t really thought this date through. It sounded like a good idea at the time, but you’re right, I miss seeing your face.” Then I slipped my foot out of my shoe and ran it up his calf.

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