20. Blind date

Bill:
I wake up slowly, rolling onto my back as I blink. My eyelids feel heavy, reluctant. Eventually, I manage to pry them open, squinting as my eyes adjust to the light.

With a deep breath, I force myself upright, my body stiff and unwilling. I glance toward the kitchen and immediately notice two things.. the kitchen light is already on and a coffee mug is left on the kitchen table.

I drag myself to my feet and shuffle toward the kitchen. As I get closer, my eyes catch a piece of paper beside the cup. The handwriting is unmistakable.. it's Evi’s. Not that it could’ve been anyone else’s.

"Brenda picked me up. Have to get ready for my date tonight. Wish me luck!"

My stomach turns sharply. A hollow ache blooms in my chest, spreading fast and ruthless. My heart thuds harder, heavier.

I stare at the note for a moment longer before crumpling it tightly in my fist.


The rest of the day, I’m barely holding it together. Pacing, overthinking, losing my mind over that stupid date. Not knowing who she’s with is eating me alive.

“Fuck this,” I snap, grabbing my car keys and storming out of the house. I can’t just sit here. I have to stop this.

I drive faster than I should, tires screeching on every turn. My pulse is pounding, adrenaline buzzing through my veins.

When I turn onto her street, I kill the engine and stop a few meters from her house.

Too late. She’s already getting into his car.

I freeze. He doesn’t even hold the door open for her. What a gentleman.

When the car pulls away, I wait a few seconds. Just long enough to stay unnoticed. Then I follow. They drive all the way to the next town, and I stay a few cars behind them.

They pull into a restaurants parking lot. I park two rows back, far enough to stay invisible but close enough to watch.

I scoff under my breath. Seriously? That’s where he’s taking her? Out of all the restaurants, he picked the shitty one.

I sit in my car. Waiting. Watching. Two full hours pass. Finally, they come out.

She glances in my direction, at least I think she does, and my heart lurches into my throat. I sit up straighter, suddenly breathless. Did she see me?

They walk to his car. And again.. nothing. No opening the door for her. So disrespectful, so...

They pull out of the lot and I fall in behind them, keeping my distance, blending in with the other cars.

When we get to her street, I park at the far end, engine idling, lights off. I watch as they both get out of the car. He walks her to the front door. Now he wants to act like a gentleman? I know exactly why.

I slam my palms against the steering wheel, grunting in frustration. "FUCK!"

I look up again. They’re still standing there, talking. He reaches out and touches her arm. She pulls away.

I narrow my eyes, leaning forward, trying to read their lips. “What the hell are they saying?” I whisper.

He leans in. She leans back.

He says something. She says something. Then, finally, he turns and walks away.

She slips inside her house, and the door shuts behind her.

I exhale, turning my car around and start driving in the opposite direction, away from her house.

My phone buzzes on the passenger seat.

I glance down. Just for a second.

It’s her.

I reach for it, unlocking the screen. Before I can read her message, headlights hit my face.

"Shit!"

I jerk the wheel hard, swerving back into my lane just in time. Tires screech against the asphalt, and my stomach lurches with the sudden jolt. A horn blares behind me, long and furious.

I grip the wheel with both hands, hitting the breaks and parking on the side of the road.

My heart is pounding is my chest. I close my eyes and I take a few deep breaths to calm myself.

After a few seconds, I open my eyes, looking at my phone again.

Evi: Can I call you?

For a second, I just stare at it. Re-reading the words.

Then I start typing: “Yeah, sure.”

I hit send, and immediately regret it. Does that sound indifferent?

Before I can break my head about it, my phone starts buzzing. I answer, to fast.

“Hey,” I say, trying to sound normal. Calm. Not like I’ve been following her around like a creepy stalker.

“Hey,” she says softly. “I’m sorry for texting so late.”

"It's not that late." I say, biting my lower lip, my expression tight with tension I'm trying to hide in my voice.

There’s a silence. A pause where she breathes out like she’s been holding it in all night.

"The date was a disaster." She says finally.

“I just spent two hours listening to a guy talking about his ex. He talked about himself the entire time, checked his phone constantly, and didn’t ask me a single real question. Oh, and he thinks pineapple on pizza is a ‘red flag.’ So yeah… worst date of my life." She rattles.

"He doesn't like pineapple on pizza? Oh that's a no." I say jokingly, remembering how much she loves pineapple on pizza.

“Oh, and guess what? He made me pay. Then had the nerve to hint that I should invite him in. Like, seriously?”

"He let you pay? What a keeper..." I say sarcasticly.

"He was anything but a gentleman."

A soft chuckle leaves my mouth. It stays silent for a few seconds.

Then, “Would you.." a pause. "Would you like to come over?"

"You want me to come over?" I say, surprised.

"Yes.." I can hear the hesitation on her voice. "I could use some company."

I nod. "I'll be there in 10 minutes."