Page 28 of A Shot at Love
Daniel takes my bubbly attitude in stride. “It’s a secret. Here, put this on.” He hands me a sleep mask, the cheap ones from an airline.
I narrow my eyes at him playfully. “Have you turned into a serial killer in the time we were apart?”
He rolls his eyes. “I want it to be a surprise. You’ve been very secretive about your half of the date as well. All you told me to bring was sneakers and running shorts.”
I begrudgingly agree to the blindfold, only because he’s right about my half of the date. I want this date to be the best one he’s ever had, even if it’s fake, which is why a surprise seems the best route. People love surprises. “Alright.” I put the sleep mask over my eyes. “But be warned, St. Louis is in my blood. I’ll probably know where we are just based on my other senses.”
Daniel snorts. “I’d like to see you try.”
I pretend to listen to the city. “Are we heading to the hot yoga studio on Olive Street run by Ms. Nancy?”
That startles a laugh out of Daniel. “Is that a real place?”
We turn again. “Are we heading to the St. Louis Zoo to look at the penguins and ponder their mating rituals?”
Daniel hums. “Closer. Try again.”
“Are we attending the underground poetry reading in the basement of the Urban Outfitters on Park Avenue?”
I can imagine Daniel rolling his eyes again. “Now you’re just making things up.”
I shake my head profusely. “Don’t doubt St. Louis, Daniel! You’re just not listening to her hard enough.”
“I don’t remember you being this chatty last time we were together,” Daniel muses. “Time really changes a person.”
I’m about to retort when I feel the car stop. It was a short ride. “Are we here?” I’m surprised at my feelings of anticipation. Even though this is all for show, I’m still excited.
“Yes.” His cool fingers brush my temple and an errant curl as he delicately pulls off the sleep mask. I appreciate the concern for my hair and make-up.
I blink a few times, surprised at our dim atmosphere. “Oh, so you are a murderer?” I look over at him.
He huffs a laugh. “This is the parking garage. Come on, or we’re going to be late.”
We get out of the car and take the elevator down, spilling out onto the street. I’m just about to look around and get my bearings, but Daniel puts his hands over myeyes. “No cheating!” he insists. We shuffle down the street, Daniel nudging the back of my legs towards our destination.
I’m laughing at his antics. “This is ridiculous!” His body feels warm and solid against mine, and I almost trip several times at the distraction.
“We’re here,” he finally announces, lifting his hands from my eyes. At first, all I see is the street to my left and some people milling on the sidewalk in front of me. But then, I look up. There’s a sign lit up with Broadway bulbs. The marquee for tonight reads “St. Louis Ballet Company performsSwan Lake”. A beautiful dancer in a white tutu stretches her leg up in the air on the poster, serene and graceful.
I feel strange, like I’m no longer in my own body. I can feel Daniel hovering behind me, unsure of my reaction. I can’t formulate words, and instead, tears start welling and then slowly falling down my cheeks.
Daniel rummages through his pockets. “I hope those are tears of joy and not disappointment.” He finally finds what he’s looking for and pulls out a travel-size tissue pack. He offers them to me; his face creased with worry.
There’s a pause when I reach for them, and the tears slow. He brought tissues on purpose. For me. If I have a movie star smile, I try to show it to Daniel then. “You like it?” he questions, and then rephrases it into a statement. “You like it.”
I can’t contain myself then and throw myself into his arms, tissues still clenched in my fist. “I love it, Daniel.Really.” I pull back, using a tissue to wipe my face. “How did you know?”
He shrugged. “You mentioned once that you and your mom go and seeThe Nutcrackerevery year. A Christmas tradition. I figure you’re usually too busy to keep up the tradition now, since you have your European season then. It seemed like a good idea.”
I’m grinning foolishly. He’s describing a story that I toldoncein the five months we dated. And herememberedit. “It was agreatidea,” I say enthusiastically, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the theater.
“Wait,” he says, laughing, “We need to take a picture, remember? That’s the whole point of this.”
Though he says the words with warmth, they make me go cold. I try not to let the change show, smiling brightly and pulling out my phone. “Right, of course!” I snap a selfie of us with the ballet marquee in the background. I post it to my Instagram story with the caption:Anniversary surprise!Daniel posts it to his with:Happy Anniversary, Annie [heart emoji].
After the picture, I feel a little deflated. For a few heart-stopping moments, this all felt real. I was sucked right back into Daniel and me, together and romantic and fun. Daniel either doesn’t notice or pretends not to. “Ready?” he asks easily, grabbing my hand again. “This performance is getting rave reviews.”
We go inside and take our seats, which have a wonderful, close view of the stage. “How did you even get these tickets so last minute?” I ask as we settle in. Westill have about fifteen more minutes until the ballet begins.
