Page 25 of The Boyfriend List
A text notification buzzes on my phone and I check it.
Lindon
Hi Gloria! I’ll meet you at the cafe in half an hour, is that okay?
I text back quickly.
Gloria
That’s perfect! See you soon.
Scanning my three outfit options, I decide on the middle one. The first is too attention-grabbing: a bright, fire engine red dress that Raina insisted I have, with feathers skimming the knee-length hem. The third is too boring and businesslike—a grey blazer with a black pencil skirt and a white blouse.
But the second one should be perfect for tonight. It’s a simple black dress with a below-the-knee hem that flares out perfectly. Sleeveless, but I’ll pair it with a black wrap. Putting it on quickly, I add pearl earrings and a pearl pendant, then check my reflection in the mirror one last time.
I look pretty good. I think. At the very least, I won’t embarrass myself by being underdressed. And Lindon should be the perfect man, based on the spreadsheet.
So why do I feel so nervous? I walk down to the elevator in my three-inch block heels. Exiting the apartment lobby and making a right for the small cafe where we agreed to meet up, I take a deep breath and check my watch. I’m two minutes early.
To my surprise, so is Lindon. He looks just like his picture—tall, blond, and good-looking in that Golden Retriever kind of way, with a friendly demeanour and blue eyes—and I breathe a silent sigh of relief. He’s wearing a blue sport jacket over dark wash jeans and a white button-down shirt. “Gloria?”
“That’s me.” I roll my shoulders back and give him a close-lipped smile in case Idohave lipstick on my teeth. He extends a hand and I shake it, feeling like this is a business meeting instead of a first date.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. You’re even more beautiful in person,” he says. I won’t let compliments sway me, though. I have to interrogate him first.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Should we get going? I don’t want to be late for our reservation,” he asks, prompting me toward the waiting cab idling on the sidewalk.
As we slide into the cab, he gets the door for me and sits next to me in the back, before telling the driver the name of the restaurant we’re going to. ItisFrench—L’Oiseau Rouge.
Oh, shoot. When London teased me earlier about the fancy restaurant we were going to, I didn’t think it would turn out to actually be French. Hopefully, it’ll just be a place where the menu is in English and they don’t use French names for all the dishes. I’m not sure why the thought of the French language sends me into such a panic—maybe because I once mispronounced the name of a wine in a class presentation, and everyone laughed at me.
I take another deep breath. Everything will be fine. Lindon probably won’t laugh at me if I mispronounce French. He’s been nice so far.
“Are you okay? You seem a little… tense,” Lindon says, looking over at me.
“I’m fine,” I say, a little too quickly. Darn. Why is it so easy to talk to people at work and present court cases and so difficult to know how to behave on a date? “I’m just, ah, thinking about work.”
He chuckles. “Relax. I promise not to ask you for legal advice. Why don’t we just get to know each other a little bit?”
Right. Of course. I’ll just treat this like a networking event or something. “Sure. I promise not to give unsolicited legal advice, either. Tell me about yourself. Did you grow up in L.A.?”
Lindon spins his life story for me, telling me about how he grew up in Tulsa, Oklahoma but moved out here to go to school, and found a job here that he loves. He has two siblings, both of whom stayed in his hometown, and his parents are retired school teachers. Despite the restaurant he chose, he seems down to earth and easygoing.
I find myself mentally checking off items on my list as we pull up to the restaurant.Has a good relationship with his family. Hmm… that remains to be seen, but he didn’t talk about them like he hates them, so there’s a plus, right?
Can ride a horse. Maybe I should ask him what growing up in Oklahoma was like.
“So, what was your childhood like? Did you ever ride horses or, I don’t know, shoot guns?” I say, hoping I sound playful and not like an interrogator.
He chuckles as he helps me out of the car. “Have you seen the musicalOklahoma? Is that where you get your idea of what Oklahoma’s like?”
“Maybe,” I say, even though I’ve never seen it and only have a vague idea of the plot. I think it involves a cowboy?
“Well, I have ridden a horse and shot a gun before. But I’m not going to take you to do either of those things because I’m awful at both and I would probably embarrass myself with my poor horsemanship and horrible marksmanship,” he says as we walk toward the restaurant. He doesn’t place his hand on the small of my back or hold hands, which I find reassuring. First-date PDAandnavigating the conversation is beyond me.
“But youarecapable of those things?” I press, just for the sake of the list. I can hear Raina telling me to ask him about his favourite ice cream flavour next.
