Page 30 of Meet Cute Reboot

“This isn’t how this was supposed to go.”

“Which part?”

“The part where you make me go on a date with you, where you throw your money around to force me to do your bidding, and where you trap me into a second date.”

“I didn’t do that. You trapped yourself.”

Cassie lifts her chin defiantly. The fast, throaty call of an osprey sounds from a nearby tree. I can see the workings of Cassie’s brain through her eyes, the replaying of our interview, specifically the part where she talked herself into a corner.

“The internet loves us,” I say. “It’s great for business. Subscribers are climbing faster than a pygmy monkey.”

A smile cracks Cassie’s lips. The sight elates me.

“Why are you sweating like a sumo wrestler doing hot yoga?” she asks.

“Mine was better.”

“Only because pygmy monkeys are cuter than sumo wrestlers.”

“Fair point.”

“Seriously, are you on drugs or something?”

“No. I rode my bike here.”

“From where?”

“Benton Street near the hospital.”

“What?” She looks at me like I’m crazy.

“Yep.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did. There’s my bike.” I point to my bike that’s still leaning against the palm. Unfortunately.

Cassie rests a thumb under her chin and covers her mouth with her index finger. Her eyes are smiling. “Where did you find that thing, 1950?” she says.

“Roundabout that time period, I’d say.”

“Well, okay, then. Enjoy your ride home.” She turns to head to her car. We can’t end like this. If I try to ride that bike home, I might die.

“Hey,” I holler as she grabs her door handle. “I think if I ride back, I might dehydrate into banana chips.”

“Didn’t you bring water?”

“I drank it already.”

“Fill your bottle in the bathroom.”

“Honestly, I think I over-estimated my ability. I’m not cut out for the Tour de France. Also, I think I forgot to eat breakfast. And we need to plan our second date.”

Cassie raises an eyebrow at me. “You never stop, do you?”

“Never stop what?”

“This.”