I decide that I’m going to walk to the café for lunch. Not my best idea, but I need the extra time away from my desk after getting into it with Eddie. He has me angry –not so much at him as much as I am angry with myself. How do I keep screwing up with him? It’s not like I am doing it on purpose. I am just being me –but whenever I am me, I somehow manage to screw Eddie over. I could go piss on our old man’s grave for this shit. I love my dad; I really do, but his final act, his stupid will, drove a serious wedge between Eddie and me. We used to be really close. Now he can hardly stand to be in the same room as me. When did life get so damn complicated?

This is turning out to be a longer walk than I had originally anticipated. I decide I’m going to have my driver come pick me up at the café because I’m not trekking all the way back to the office. If I had some workout clothes and some tennis shoes and not dress pants, dress shoes, and an expensive button up, that would be another story. Eventually, I wind up outside of the café, and my stomach grumbles. I’m starving.

I hurry inside, and a cute young server smiles excitedly. I always come here, and they all know I tip well. I am given a seat, and the young girl asks if I want my usual. I say I do, and she trots off behind the little counter. They have great sandwiches here –especially if you’re a health nut like myself. The place is full of vegans, athletes, and paranoid health-craved first-time moms. The server plops my favorite tea down in front of me as well as my carefully prepared sandwich, and I dive in like a pig.

I’m about halfway through my sandwich when the door opens, letting in a slight breeze. Instinctively I look up when the little bell is hanging over the door rings. I almost choke on my food. It’s her. The woman from Éclair’s billboard –the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen. Same blonde hair, perky breasts, tan skin, toned body…. that billboard was definitely not photoshopped. She really looks that perfect. She has just come from a run, so she is not decked out in makeup –but it is her without a doubt. Her long blonde hair is pulled up in a ponytail, and she has earbuds in her ears. She is wearing a black sports bra and fairly conservative pink gym shorts with matching tennis shoes. I’m in a slight panic. The woman I’ve fantasized about for the past year –ever since the billboard went up –is standing just a few feet away. I have never been nervous to talk to a woman before, but I cannot move from my seat.

The server plops a bill next to me, and I instinctively start looking for my wallet with my hands as I stare at the model. She looks sexy, but there is also a certain cuteness about her with the way she is tapping her chin while staring at the chalkboard menu behind the counter, trying to decide what to reward herself with after a run. I watch as she removes her earbuds and places her MP3 into her gym shorts. She wipes her brow. Suddenly, I realize I’ve been digging around in my pockets for a considerable amount of time. I don’t have my wallet. “Shit,” I say.

“Everything all right, James?” the server asks.

“Not really.” My face turns red. “I think I left my wallet back at the office.” I keep digging around. “Man, I left my cell phone too.” So much for calling my driver. The server looks really disappointed. I attempt to reassure her, “If you have a phone or something, I can call my assistant and have her come out this way. Don’t worry; I’m going to take care of you.” The server smiles and hurries off to locate her cellphone that I am sure she has stashed behind the counter somewhere.

“Hey,” I hear a lovely voice, and I look up and realize the model is talking to me and standing right over me. I open my mouth, but no words come out. “Do you mind if I sit down here?” she points to the empty chair across from me, “They don’t have any empty tables, and I think I might have twisted my ankle while I was out running.”

“Of course!” I say, a bit too eagerly.

She raises a brow at me before sitting down. She takes out a cell phone and starts scrolling through it, and I can tell she’s doing it, so she does not have to talk to the awkward stranger she is sitting with. A few minutes’ pass, and I have yet to say anything. I feel like an idiot. Soon the server is bringing her order to her, and hanging me a cell phone. “Thank you,” I say to the server, “I’m really sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, James,” the girl says, “You come here all the time. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” She trots off.

I am staring at the cell phone, I slowly start dialing the number, but before I finish the model interrupts me, “What did you do? Forget your wallet?”

I take a breath, and I remind myself to act charming instead of like an awkward moron. “Yeah. I walked here, and I left my wallet and phone back at the office.” I say, “I’m just going to have my assistant bring it.”

The model laughs, “Don’t do that. The traffic is terrible. You’ll be sitting here another hour. I’ll buy you lunch.” She waves the server down before I have time to oppose. She slips the woman a twenty and tells her that she’s paying for my lunch and to keep the change. The server leaves us, fairly content with the tip she received.

“That was awfully kind of you.” I say, “You don’t even know me.”

She smiles, “You have a nice face. Pay it forward.” She takes a bite out of the sandwich she ordered and a sip of her drink.

I smile, “What’s your name?”

“Sylvia Stapleton.” She says.

“I like that.” I say, “My name is James Caldwin.”

“A pleasure.” She says and then pauses, “How do I know that name? Sounds familiar?”

“I’m the CEO of Shattered,” I say.

She laughs, “That’s right. Wow. Now I get to say I bought a billionaire lunch.”

I laugh too, “Yes. I suppose so.”

“You look familiar as well.” I say, trying to play it cool, “Have we met before?”

She looks embarrassed, “I have gotten that a lot ever since that billboard went up. I’ve model for your competition, Mr. Caldwin.”

I laugh, “You can call me James. And I believe I know what billboard you’re talking about.” Of course, I know! I have a picture of it on my phone that I’ve gotten off on before, but I’m not telling her that! “So you’re a model?” I ask.

“I do it on occasion.” She says, “I prefer sporting. I test athletic gear for a living.”

“Really?” I ask, excited. As an athlete myself, I find that quite intriguing.

She nods, “Yeah. I make decent money doing it, but I model for a little extra income.”

“What sort of gear do you test?” I ask.

“Anything and everything.” She says, “Clothes, shoes, rock-climbing gear, surfing gear, skateboards, you know –sports stuff.”

I smile, “That sounds like a dream job.”

She laughs, “This coming from a multi-billionaire?”

“If there is one thing I have learned from having money, it’s that money really isn’t everything.” I say, “I’d like to walk in your shoes for a day.”

“So you’re an athlete, I’m guessing?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I say, “I’ve actually done a bit of modeling for my company too. Looks like we’re two like souls.”

She laughs, “Don’t judge me, but is that your chest on all your promo’s?”

“That’s me,” I say.

“Wow, conceited much?” she smiles, “This is embarrassing, but I have one of your fliers up in my apartment just because, well…” she grins. “Damn.” She blushes slightly, “I stare at that stupid flier whenever I run on my treadmill.”

I smile big back at her, “Okay, okay, I got, to be honest. I knew who you were the moment you walked in here. I stare at that billboard on my way to work every day.”

“Oh my God, are you serious?” she asks, “How funny! Have we both met our fantasy pairing today?”

“Looks that way,” I say, “I don’t suppose you would be interested in going on a date?”

Sylvia leans forward on the table, “I really would.”

Hell yeah! This guy just scored a date with a model. Not just any model, though, the model! The model I have gawked over for the past year. Today is starting to look up after all.