Page 5 of Meet Cute Reboot
Yeah. You heard that right. A couple nights ago, I told Mom Cassie is “the one.” See, I thought I was going to be homealone. I know, drinking alone is bad, but I hardly ever do it, and sometimes, rarely, when a guy is pining extra hard for his old girlfriend, he wants to sulk with some libations in peace and quiet.
The quiet didn’t last. My mom popped into my living room with a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken and hijacked my night.I was a couple of cocktails in when she arrived. I don’t remember much of our conversation. I just know the next day Mom was talking about how I’d said Cassie was “the one.”
I’m never drinking again.
“You couldn’t think of a better way to reconcile with Cassie?” Mom asks. “I don’t know, maybe call her up, say you’re sorry, and ask her to join you for coffee?”
My phone buzzes. I reach for it.
“In hindsight, yes,” I say as I swipe up.
Cassie sent me a text.
I look at the television. She’s still on set, looking at her phone, waiting for me to respond. Felicia looks giddy.
Hi, Luke. Our match came up on MatchAI. How do you feel about a blind date, maybe tonight?
The message glows on the large screen behind her. This conversation is live.
I wait a few moments to make it seem more legit. Then I type,Hi. Sure, a date tonight would be amazing.
I think about typing more, something like, “I’m glad Cupid matched us together,” but that feels too sappy. I keep my eyes glued to the TV as I hit send.
My message pops up on the screen behind her. Maybe I’m reading too much into her body language, but I think she’s relieved, which buoys my mood. Maybe this won’t be a disaster.
“This is going to be a disaster,” Mom says.
I roll my eyes to the ceiling.
The news fades to a commercial.
“I don’t know what goes through your head sometimes, son.”
Cassie
As soon as the news segment ends, I say thank you to Felicia and the production staff and then zoom out of the studio with Sarah following closely behind.
“That was great, boss,” Sarah says as she struggles to keep up. “You were brilliant. And that Luke. Shew! He’s a hottie.”
“Looks aren’t everything,” I grumble. The unrelenting August heat intensifies my inner cauldron of anger.
“They’re a good start,” Sarah muses, “especially for picky people like me.”
Sarah has several stipulations when it comes to dating. He has to be clean. No weird moles. Definitely no skin tags. He can’t stink. (She puts musky cologne in the stink category.) And she won’t kiss a guy with coffee breath, even if he brushes his teeth five times before kissing her. She’s my most epic matchmaking challenge to date and you better bet, I’m going to find her someone.
After I clean up the mess that just landed on my lap. (I didn’t throw up on live TV, but I was close. Oh, so close.)
When we’re out of earshot of the WSAV staff, I turn around and claw my hands through my hair. “This is a disaster.”
Sarah’s expression flips from elated to concerned. “No, it’s not. You did amazing. You didn’t even seem nervous. The lighting made you look like a runway model.”
“My match, Luke Curtis, istheLuke.” I’ve mentioned Luke to Sarah before but never shared a picture.
Sarah’s chin mops the asphalt. “The Luke who cheated on you?” Anger creases her brow.
“Yes.”
“Oh my gosh, Cassie! What now?”