Page 17 of The Dating Game

I am going to murder Sydney.

Where did she even go?

“Here’s the thing,” I hedge, “I don’t have a good explanation for this. My friend, Sydney–I think you know her. She works in the library here.”

“Yes, I know Sydney,” he confirms, sliding his hands into his pockets now. I tell myself not to track the movement. What do I care that he keeps posing like some sort of GQ model?

That’s right, I do not care.

“Yes, well, she said she had a surprise for me,” I explain.

“Hence the blindfold?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Hence the blindfold,” I confirm, holding it up. And then contemplating putting it back on so I don’t have to watch him determine that I’m an idiot. Where is flipping Sydney?

Not here, that’s for sure. Which means I’m just going to have to turn this situation around myself. As previously stated, nonchalance is the best way to counteract embarrassment.

“Anyway, enough about me. What are you doing here?” I cross one leg over the other, then take it off again and get to my feet. No need to talk up to the man. Much better to face him head on.

“Uh, I was just heading to my office.” He gestures to a door on one side of the sanctuary. “The stageis a shortcut.”

“I see.” I nod. “Well, I should probably go find Sydney.” And inform her that if she thinks Will will want to go out with me now she must be high. Spoiled her own grand plans, she did.

“Ugh, sorry, B, I couldn’t find him…” Speak of the devil matchmaker. Sydney chooses that moment to come bursting onto the stage. She stops talking as soon as she sees Will and her eyes pop wide. Okay, so Will finding me sitting here wasn’t part of her plan.

I’m not sure if this is comforting or not. I mean, at least if it had been maybe she also had a plan to make me look like less of an awkward human.

But also, the fact that it’s not does make me feel like it’s less necessary to check her into a mental hospital to undergo treatment for having crazy ideas. Is that something a psychiatrist can even treat?

“Will!” she yelps. “Here you are. I mean,” she fumbles, “not that I was looking for you. I wasn’t. But here you are.” She coughs. “And I see you met Brooke. Also known as your duet partner extraordinaire.” She laughs nervously. I try to catch her eye, but she seems bent on not looking at me. All of the sudden I notice that she has something in her hands that she’s twisting around: another blindfold. Was she going to blindfold Will too?

Okay, I’m back on the psychiatric intervention wagon.

“Um, anyway,” she goes on, “since I can’t find the person I was looking for, which was not you, Will,” she lets out another nervous laugh, “I guess I won’t be able to surprise you after all, Brooke. So let's just go back to the library and eat lunch like we planned. Reconvene.” More laughter. More coughing. More studiously not looking at me.

“Sure, Sydney,” I say icily, “let’s go eat lunch. Although I’m not all that hungry, so I’ll let you have the yogurt parfait I brought.”

“Hahaha,” she squeaks. Sydney is severely lactose intolerant and therefore gets my meaning: she deserves an afternoon spent on thetoilet after this. She pivots and I follow her off the stage, grabbing her by the elbow as soon as we’re in the hallway, out of earshot.

“What the heck was that, Sydney?” I exclaim. “You made me look like an idiot in there!”

“What? No, I didn’t!” she cries, brushing away my concern. “You looked cute. You always look cute. I like that sweater.” She fingers the sleeve of my striped turtleneck.

“Sydney,” I seethe, “would you please be a dear and explain to me what on earth your grand plan actually was?”

“Oh right.” She runs the blindfold she’s holding through her hands. “Well, see, I saw this show once where people went speed dating while blindfolded, and well, you’re always saying you want a guy to like you for more than the way you look, so I thought, why not have the two of you talk with blindfolds on.”

I gape at her. She’s not wrong. I have said that many times before. But that doesn’t make her idea any less nuts.

“Belinda thought it was a cute idea,” Sydney says defensively.

“You told me Belinda reads like three romance novels a day!” I exclaim. “Her head is so full of fanciful notions and random kissing scenarios I’m not sure there’s any space left for rational thought!”

“What’s your point?” Sydney asks primly. Goodness. Who is this person I’m talking to? Because it’s not my typically quite practical best friend, I’ll tell you that much.

“My point?!” I echo loudly. “To start with it, how were you planning on getting Will to agree to let you blindfold him and talk to a random woman?”

Sydney looks at her feet. “I was sort of just going to wing it. Will likes adventure. Belinda told me so. He grew up helping his parents run an outdoor adventure center. I thought maybe I could appealto that side of him.”

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