Out of Focus (Love in LA #3)

He closes his eyes and then looks up, blowing out a breath that comes out sounding like, “Phooooooo-oh-wow.” He swallows and motions with his finger for me to spin, and for completely mysterious-to-me reasons, I do. Well, they’re not that mysterious. It’s the little glimmer in his eyes when he took me in, the way he stood a little straighter, and how his lips relaxed, parting just slightly. That’s why I don’t hesitate. Because Rafael makes me feel beautiful with nothing but a look. “Damn, pumpkin. You are wearing the fuck out of that dress.” His expression gives nothing away and now I feel confused.

“I don’t know what that means,” I say, fighting the urge to run back to my room.

“It means you look beautiful.” With his gaze steady on me, he continues, “You’re going to have a great time, Chuck. You’re ready for this.” He sets the glass of water in the sink. “Text me if you need anything, yeah?”

Before I get the chance to say thank you, ask him what I should talk about tonight, or even say goodbye, he’s gone.

I spend the rest of my time before the date wondering what he’s thinking. Wondering if this date even matters.

If my goal is to explore big feelings, to prepare myself for my only long-term relationship, and to find my way back to writing meaningful relationships, then going on a date with a stranger might not be the thing that propels me in that direction. Because what are the chances this date will lead to more? That Zach and I have a good enough connection for me to let him into my life?

I also find myself wondering who Rafael dates and what the women he spends time with are like. Does he let them take his phone? Does he have deep, meaningful conversations with them? Does he call them beautiful?

Probably. Right?

Fifteen minutes before the scheduled meeting time with Zach, I’m in my ride-share and strongly considering asking them to turn back and take me home. The way Rafael left isn’t helping the lack of confidence I’m feeling, either. I’m blowing out a long breath as my final attempt to calm down when my phone vibrates in my hands.

RAFAEL:

I’m sorry about how I left, Chuck. I was being weird about the thing that happened that we most definitely don’t have to ever talk about like ever. But if you want to, we can, or I can forget about it. Whatever you want.

Fuck. I’m still being weird. I’m sorry.

I feel a smile form as a giggle builds in my chest. For someone who always appears so confident, he’s actually a little insecure, and it’s nice to see this side of him. Like a new layer is being peeled back, and I’m seeing the real him the way he’s been seeing the real me.

RAFAEL:

Have a great time tonight. Just be yourself. Any guy who gets to spend even ten minutes with you should consider himself lucky, and if he doesn’t, he’s an absolute idiot. I’ll be here if you need me.

Butterflies take flight in my stomach, and I clutch my abdomen in an effort to calm them. I read the message over and over and realize that the fluttering feelings increase with every read.

I should respond to him. I know I should, but then the car comes to a stop in front of the restaurant, and I thank the lovely lavender-haired driver—who I’ll most definitely give five stars for having the temperature well-controlled and the music nice and low.

I gather my bag and exit the vehicle, and when I look up, there’s a very handsome man smiling at me. Zach. He’s dressed in navy pants and a white buttoned shirt that looks well-ironed. His brown shoes are clean, and as I walk closer to him, his smile widens just a touch.

“Charlie?” He takes a step forward and I nod. “Hi, I’m Zach,” he says as he extends his hand toward me.

We’re shaking hands, then. All right.

His grip is firm without crushing my fingers. “It’s really nice to meet you. I’m glad I showed up early so you didn’t have to wait for me.”

Oh. That’s nice. I hadn’t even thought about the fact that he was even earlier than me. I should say something. I haven’t said anything.

Come on, Charlie. Words.

“It’s nice to meet you, too. Did Rafael warn you about my terrible time management?” Why am I bringing him up? Why is Rafael the first thing I’m choosing to talk about? Bollocks.

“Nah. He actually didn’t tell me much about you other than that you’re beautiful, smart, and funny as hell. Pretty sure those were his exact words.” He shrugs, still smiling.

“Oh.” Is my brain even attached to my skull? I can feel my mask slipping on—the cute, smart, flirty one who will live up to the girl this guy was promised.

“Should we get inside?” He gestures to the front door, and I walk in front of him. He doesn’t put his hand on me, which I’m thankful for. He’s respectful, but not handsy. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

We’re seated by the window, at a table not too close to any others. It feels private and quiet. I would have hated sitting in the middle of this busy restaurant, surrounded by people.

“Wow, Rafael reserved a great table,” Zach says casually as he takes a seat.

“What do you mean?” I ask.