Kyra fiddled with the green stir stick in her coffee, pulling it out and licking the foam off and then tapping it distractedly on her cup. She looked around the café for what seemed like the hundredth time, puffing out a sigh of frustration. Why her friends thought she had time for this, she had no idea. She had a life. Important things to do. Right. Really important things. Things like....yoga class, feeding her cat, and work.
She pulled out her compact, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. It was way past time for a trim, but she didn't really care. Who was she trying to impress anyway? Her mind drifted back to her conversation with Brit the evening before.
"So don't be mad at me," Britt had said, looking sheepishly into her popcorn during what must have been the 17th ad before the movie started.
"I feel like the fact that you needed to preface what you're about to tell me with that means I will, in fact, be mad at you," Kyra replied, "but what did you do?"
"I set you up," she said, popping a kernel in her mouth matter of factly.
"Ugh, not again. Why do you people think I need a boyfriend so badly? I don't have time for a boyfriend."
"You have time to go to the movies with us," Stan piped up, leaning around Britt, who elbowed him sharply in the chest, "Not that we mind you coming of course."
Maybe they were right. She'd never even thought about how much of her time was spent third-wheeling. Fine then. One date, then life could go back to the comfortable routine she was used to.
Twenty minutes later, Kyra was losing her resolve. Draining the last of her coffee, she stood and brushed invisible crumbs from her dress, preparing to leave. That was when he came in the door. He was better looking than she expected. Tall, blonde, and dressed sharply in dark jeans and a grey sweater. He was holding a single rose and scanning the small crowd. Their eyes met and she thought she saw a flicker of indecision in his eyes.
Shoving down her anxiety, Krya grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair and walked towards him, tossing her empty cup in the trash.
"Are you serious?" she said with a laugh "was the single rose your idea or Britt's?"
"Uh, mine I suppose," the tall stranger said, shoving one hand in his pocket and holding the rose out with the other.
"Kind of cliché, don't you think?" she asked, taking the rose.
"I suppose I shouldn't help you on with your coat either, then?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No, now you're confusing cliché with chivalry."
"Ah. In that case, m'lady," he said with an overly dramatic sweep of his hand, "allow me."
He opened the door with a flourish and they walked out into the early afternoon sun. "Where to?" she asked her date, who was eying a nervous looking young man pacing on the sidewalk to their left.
"This way," he said, pointing right and taking off with long strides.
It wasn't until they were out on the crowded street and walking toward the central square that she realized they hadn't exchanged names. The conversation had flowed naturally, if somewhat sarcastically from the moment they'd left the shop.
"Im Kyra, by the way," she said, adjusting her scarf against the cool autumn air.
"Jack," he said, shooting her a grin. "So Kyra, what do you do?"
"You mean for a living?" she asked, "I'm in radio."
"I thought people in radio were supposed to be ugly," he said with a grin.
