Page 27 of A Shot at Love
Annie: Eat your heart out, ladies!!
They immediately start sending R-rated memes and internet pictures of Daniel running track with hideous innuendos as the captions. It should make me happy that the deception is working so well. It means this might actually help my reputation and steer focus away from the scandal. Instead, I feel hurt blooming in between my ribs. This could be my life. Daniel, who I trusted and grew with and supported when he was hurt, was the future I always imagined. We had only dated for a few months, but we were together almost every day.We enjoyed all the same things, we met each other’s families, we took a mini road trip to see the giant Sequoias and sniffled a bit at their majesty. Thisshouldbe us. But he left.
The hurt only grows worse when I see one text from my mom, who I still haven’t spoken to.
Mom: Are you and Daniel back together?
It’s a gut-punch. I accused her of keeping secrets, and now it looks like I’ve been keeping one. It was my mom who loved Daniel when she first met him and cursed him every day when he ignored me. And since I never had the courage to tell Jadea about our relationship, it was my mom who picked up the broken pieces and called me every day for weeks after Daniel disappeared. To her, this is not a fun relationship. It’s complicated and full of mysteries neither of us can explain.
It’s time to come clean. I need my mom. She kept secrets, but I’ve kept some, too. It isn’t always easy to open your mouth and be vulnerable. Especially when it’s clear that Jack Smith was never going to be my mom’s happily-ever-after. I wonder if she knows that he’s had many affairs, each with a young, vulnerable woman like my mom. I decide to respond before I can change my mind and avoid her again.
Annie: I’ll explain everything. Come to the game tomorrow and we’ll talk after.
She sends a thumbs-up emoji, and that’s proof enough of our strained relationship. She tends to be an effusive, paragraph-style texter. Brevity is rarelyconsidered, efficiency never on her mind. I have to make this right.
A weight is lifted off my shoulders when I imagine us talking tomorrow. That’s one problem solved.
The next on the agenda: the date. Daniel and I are going out at 6 PM, and I have exactly four hours to get myself together. This morning, inspiration struck, and I planned the second half of the date. Daniel assured me in a text this morning that he had planned something he knew I would love. I just responded with a “Game on”. Easy enough to think of our fake relationship as a competition. Daniel and I always did have a competitive streak.
I tended to win then, and I intend to win now.
11
It’s ten minutes to 6 PM, and I’m wondering if I should put on a third coat of deodorant. Am I wearing too much perfume? Not enough shimmery lip gloss? Should I take my hair down? Did I pack the clothes we need for my half of the date?
An hour ago, I texted Daniel.
Annie: What’s the attire for this date?
Daniel: Fancy. Give me your very best, Annie.
His response skyrocketed my pulse, both due to anxiety and because he knows I find dressing up to beverysexy.
I take one last look in the mirror, checking for any missing details. I chose a baby pink satin dress with spaghetti straps, a sweetheart neck, and three petal-like tiers in the skirt. I’m wearing white leather platforms with red hearts stamped on the monster heels. Chopsticks made of faux pearls loosely hold up my hair. I have a red velvet clutch hung on a chain that matches my lipstick.
It’s a bold look and one my other boyfriend Evan never liked. He once said, “I don’t mind it. But it’s kind of a lot.” I grimaced and redirected the conversation, but his words stuck with me. On the flip side, Daniel always seemed to enjoy my concoctions in college. When I’d work on something for my independent study he’d listenclosely as I described it or would send me articles about sustainable fashion that came up on his feed.
Hopefully, he still feels the same way.
My phone buzzes with a message that Daniel is downstairs. I take three deep cleansing breaths, throw a couple Twizzlers nibs in my mouth, and head downstairs. I send a quick picture of the look to Jadea, and she sends back exclamation points in response.
I expect to see Daniel sitting inside his sleek rental car, but instead he’s parked it on the street in front of my building. He’s leaning against it casually, holding a bouquet of flowers.
“Daniel.” The word falls out of my mouth like a sigh. “Are those for me?” Shy, shy, shy. Why can’t I sound casual?
Fortunately, he’s fidgeting, too. He smiles bashfully and hands me the bouquet. “I hope you like them.” I look at the beautiful arrangement, a dizzying array of different flowers and colors. Purples, pinks, and reds.
“They’re perfect.” I still sound breathless, but I can’t help it. Seeing him like this is like being hit by a car.
“I know you don’t like boring.” His smile eases a bit. His eyes roam over me and then settle on my face, warm and dark and full of that shine. “You look just as I imagined.”
“Too much?” I force a laugh, plucking at my skirt.
Daniel’s brow crinkles. “No, perfect. Colorful. Freckled. Taller than me.” That one makes me grin. “Amazing, Annie. You look amazing.”
My face may be freckled, but the flush creeping up my neck is probably overshadowing them. “You look amazing too, Daniel.” And he does. I see Daniel in suits all the time for his show, but this is different. The suit is slim, dark, and hugs him just right. He’s wearing a charcoal silk tie, and his curls ruffle a little in the wind.
I focus on breathing evenly as we get into the car. I carefully lay the bouquet on my lap. “So, where are we going?” I try to sound as normal and cheerful as possible.
