On my way back to Phoenix the next morning, I got a text from a number I didn’t recognize.

Hey, this is Gage from speed dating. I was wondering if you wanted to meet up tonight before you leave in the morning.

Stopped at a red light, I text back:

How did you get this number? And how do you know my flight plans?

To which Gage replied:

I ran into your cousin at the gym, and he gave it to me, lol. I told him I wanted to apologize for any embarrassment I caused you during our last meeting and to make it up to you if I could.

I wrote back:

You don’t need to worry about it. That night has been the furthest thing from my mind lately.

And Gage said:

So, would you like to meet up tonight? I don’t feel like I left a very good impression during our first meeting and I feel like we could be friends, at least, if we got to know each other. You strike me as someone who’s warm and compassionate. I need someone like that in my life.

I paused with my thumb on the reply button, hesitating. Our last meeting had been cringe-worthy and dull and awkward. I had no desire to put myself through that again. But his last text had been so thoughtful and sweetly worded that somehow it felt rude to say no.

Warily, I asked him:

Are you sure this isn’t a date?

He wrote back:

Nah. I’d just like to talk to you. Promise.

I replied, with a curious feeling of relief and disappointment:

Okay. Let’s plan to meet at Cortez Park at around four p.m. I ought to be driving in at around that time. I’ll text you if I’m running late.

Once he’d given the affirmative, I set the phone down in the seat next to me, wondering if I had made a mistake. In an odd way, the plans I had made with Salman on Friday had exacerbated my acute sense of loneliness. I couldn’t shake the fact that we were only hooking up as part of a business arrangement. I wished I could say we were doing it for love, but really, we were each using the other to obtain something we wanted. It was hard to get excited about a tryst when you felt like you were selling yourself.

Then, Gage’s flattering text had reminded me what was missing in the relationship: genuine romance. It was embarrassing to admit how much I needed and craved words of affection. And maybe the meeting would go badly, but at this point, I was willing to give him a chance.

* * *

“I don’t know if you’ve ever seen it,” Gage was saying. “It’s one of my favorite crime thrillers of the nineties, but I know it’s, like, pretty niche. A man brings his dog to the vet for a routine checkup when the building is taken over by armed gunmen and the dog is taken hostage…”

It was late afternoon, and we were standing on the middle of a bridge overlooking a murky lake in Cortez Park. The willows and rosewoods that arched lazily over us provided a slight respite from the sweltering mid-summer heat. Ahead of us, in the distance, a woman shuffled uneasily past a park bench containing the prostrate figure of a shirtless homeless man, who appeared to be sleeping.

“…so, of course, he has to access the building’s ventilation system and—are you listening, Cassie?”

For the past twenty minutes, Gage had been giving me a blow-by-blow account of some of his favorite action films, each of which he described as an “obscure hit” despite the fact that they had made hundreds of millions at the box office. I had feigned interest at first, though my mind had begun to wander by the time he got to the fourth or fifth movie with essentially the same plot.

“Gage, I’ve already seen most of these movies,” I said in a tone of frustration. “I had a boyfriend in high school who insisted on making me watch them.”

“Did you love them?”

I couldn’t honestly say that I did. “Action movies aren’t really my thing. They all start to feel the same after a while.”

“Oh.” He fell silent as if trying to comprehend how someone could have a different taste in movies. “Well, what do you like to watch?”

“Dramas, mostly.”

“So, chick-flicks.”

“No.” I shut my eyes and counted to five, wanting to calm myself before I said something rash. Was this the reason he had asked me to come out here, just so we could argue about movies? “I don’t really care for that term; it feels pretty sexist. Sometimes, my best friend will talk me into watching a rom-com, but otherwise, I try to avoid them.”

Gage blinked rapidly, as if storing this information in his database of “facts about Cassie” for later use. He had a mechanical, almost robotic way about him, like an artificial intelligence that was slowly teaching itself to understand human norms and behaviors.

“We should get together at my house and watch a movie—”

“Gage.”

“I know you’re leaving tomorrow, but I was thinking, maybe next week when you get back, have you seen—”

“Gage, I’m not interested. I’m sorry.”

Gage blinked so rapidly that his eyelids were in danger of flying away. “I don’t understand. I thought you wanted to hang out.”

“I agreed to see you, but only as friends.” I spoke slowly, choosing each word with care. “I don’t want to see any movies with you. First of all, I don’t think you would enjoy the sort of movies that I’m into, and second, that feels too much like a date to me.”

“But you’re not seeing anyone right now, are you? Or are you trying to tell me you like being single?”

Casting about for an excuse, I found one in Salman. Leaning against the wood railing, I told him, “As a matter of fact, that’s the reason I’m flying overseas in the morning. There’s a guy there I’m going to see.”

“Are you…together?” He nearly spat out the last word.

In this case, I thought a polite lie might be preferable to the truth. I couldn’t think of any other way to make clear to him that I wasn’t interested.

“Yes, he and I have been talking. He wouldn’t have paid for my trip to Qia if he wasn’t serious about it. I don’t think he would be very happy if he knew someone else was hitting on me.”

Gage stared angrily down at the algae-rimmed water. He seemed to have sensed that he had lost the fight, but couldn’t quite bring himself to give it up yet.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That you were seeing someone else?”

“Gage,” I said with a shocked laugh, “I’m not obligated to keep you informed of my personal business. For one thing, that’s between him and me, and for another, we barely know each other.”

A couple of children in flip-flops tromped past us, one of them clutching a toy in both hands.

Annoyed, Gage waited until they had passed before saying, “I really thought we were friends.”

“We’ve met twice,” I pointed out. “I was willing to meet you in a public space because I wanted to let you know that I’m not interested. But I’m not going to go over to your house, or whatever. That’s for my own protection.”

“Protection from what?” Gage scowled as if resenting the suggestion that he was unsafe. “All you women are the same, aren’t you?”

“If you mean we all take precautions, then, yes.”

The longer this conversation went on, the more I wondered why we were having it. Nothing I said seemed to be having any effect on Gage, except to make him angrier.

“If you thought I was going to murder you, then maybe you shouldn’t have come to the park.”

“Gage, nobody said you were dangerous, but I barely know you, and I can’t afford to take chances.”

“Really? Because it kind of feels like you led me on.”

“How?” I asked, my temper rising. “I thought I made it clear to you that this wasn’t a date.”

“No, but it could have led to that. I’m sorry you feel like I’m too dangerous to hang out with. I wish you’d told me sooner.”

“You don’t have to get passive-aggressive,” I said in exasperation, “and I wish you would stop twisting my words. You’re a nice person who deserves many friends, but I’m sorry to say, I can’t be one of them. It’s nothing against you. I just have to think about what’s best for me.”

On the bench in front of us, the homeless man was stirring. Gage gripped the railing tightly in both hands and inflated himself like a balloon about to burst.

“Let me ask you a question,” he said. “What’s wrong with me?”

“I really don’t think I’m qualified to answer that question.”

“Just humor me.”

“Well, honestly, I think you’d have better luck finding a partner if you weren’t so…intense. It’s alarming. For example, my cousin has a very calm and reassuring presence that women love.”

“My ex told me the same thing,” said Gage quietly. He flashed suspicious eyes at me. “Have you and Dana been talking?”

“No, of course not!” I exclaimed, beginning to back away. “I don’t even know her.”

“You sure? Because I find it really odd that you would both give me the exact same piece of advice.”

“Maybe because it’s true!” I nearly yelled, but I never got the chance to argue my case, because at that moment, I felt a violent tug around my shoulder, and my purse was snatched away.

Paralyzed with fear, I stood motionless and helpless as the shirtless man went running past with my purse in tow.

Gage didn’t hesitate. He had been eyeing the man warily ever since he rose from the bench, and the moment he snatched the purse and took off, Gage sprang into action, breaking into a run.

“Thief!” he shouted, drawing stares and bemusement throughout the park. “Get back here!”

Panic fought with humiliation as I ran through the list of all the things I kept in my purse that would have to be replaced if he got away—driver’s license, debit card, passport. This last item gave me pause. If we didn’t manage to get the purse back, I would have to cancel my flight. My debit card could be replaced, but no one was going to let me on a plane bound for Qia without a passport.

If I had known my purse was going to be stolen, and that Gage was my only chance of getting it back, I would never have come to the park.

The thief had gotten a formidable head start, but he was old and soon winded. Within a minute, Gage had almost caught up to him when the thief paused to catch his breath. The race came to an end near a rusted metal carousel with peeling paint about fifty yards from the bridge. While I craned my neck to see the denouement, Gage tugged the purse gently out of the man’s hands and held it up in the air with a crow of triumph.

“Bet you’re glad he was standing there, aren’t you?” said a middle-aged woman in a tie-dyed T-shirt.

“I’m glad he got it back; I’ll say that.”

I rather wished the thief had been apprehended by anyone else. Gage was going to think I owed him, now that he had returned with the purse.

“Well, that was a rush, wasn’t it?” Gage said, beaming and brushing his windswept hair out of his eyes. “For a second there, I didn’t think I was going to catch him, but then, his legs buckled under. Cassie, I really think you should press charges.”

“Against that old man?” I said with a slow shake of my head. “What would be the point?”

“He wouldn’t be around to steal any more purses.” Gage tapped on the leather with one knuckle. “If I were you, I’d look inside, just to make sure he hasn’t taken anything.”

Surprised that for once Gage had made a sensible suggestion, I combed through the purse to ensure that my debit card, passport and driver’s license were all intact.

“Yep, they’re still here. Thanks, Gage.”

Gage dove in for a hug, but I gingerly side-stepped him and began walking. “Anyway, I’d better get going,” I said, wanting to leave before the crowd lost interest and began to disperse, leaving us alone again.

“Mind if I walk you to your car?” Gage asked.

“I think I’d get there faster if I walked alone, thanks.”

“You sure? Sun’s going down.”

I motioned to my car, which was parked under a low-hanging rosewood not forty yards in the other direction. “I think I’ll manage. Thanks.”

I had begun to worry that I might never escape him, so it came as a relief when I managed to break away. I nearly sprinted the rest of the way to my car and got in, clutching my purse to my chest as though in fear that someone might snatch it away if I wasn’t careful.

The one good thing about spending the last hour with Gage was that he made Salman seem positively charming by comparison. I spent the rest of the trip back to the house trying to figure out what it was about the one that made him so appealing, while the other was awkward and uninviting even in his best moments. Perhaps it was a question of taste and money and the way Salman carried himself. Maybe Gage, too, would have looked handsome in a bespoke suit with pearl cufflinks.

But how different were they, really? Both were too busy pursuing what they wanted to stop and consider what I wanted, and whether our goals were in tension.

Of course, I didn’t have to choose between these two men. But, for now, I was on my way to Qia for a dinner date I was starting to dread, and a late-night rendezvous I dreaded even more.