Christian

“So, did you get her number?” Jimmy asked as we sat at the round table in my office.

“Nah. She wouldn’t give it to me.”

Peter nearly spit out his coffee.

“What? Someone actually turned down the great Christian Blake?” He laughed.

“She said something about just getting out of a relationship and she wasn’t looking to date anyone right now.” I sighed.

“Oh well, on to the next.” Jimmy smiled.

I couldn’t stop thinking about her all night. The moment my eyes saw her sitting at the table with her friends, something struck inside me. I felt this overwhelming need to want to get to know her. She was gorgeous. Five foot seven with long brown wavy hair that perfectly flowed over her shoulders. Her green eyes sparkled like shiny emeralds that could light up even the darkest of rooms. Eyes that could hold the universe within them. I sat at my table and watched the way her perfectly shaped lips gave way to a smile. A smile that illuminated her beautiful face.

We shared a moment, and even though that moment was brief, it would be one I’d remember for a long time.

“Bro, are you okay?” Peter asked.

“What?” I blankly stared at him.

“You zoned out for a moment,” Jimmy spoke. “You still thinking about that girl?”

“No way.” I got up from my chair. “I don’t do shit like that and you know it.” I looked at my watch. “It’s time for our weekly productivity meeting. I’ll meet you in the conference room.”

Walking over to my desk, I picked up my phone and held it in my hand. Opening my messages, I decided to send a text message to the girl.

“Just checking in to see how last night was and to let you know that I wasn’t a douchebag.”

As I was walking to my meeting, a reply came through.

“Lol. I’m happy to hear you refrained from being a douchebag. My night was exciting! Well, maybe not too exciting. Just had a girls’ night with my friends.”

I sent her a message back as I walked into the conference room.

“Girls’ night is good. At least you weren’t home moping around over that jerk. I’m off to a meeting now. Catch ya later!”

“I don’t mope. I’m better than that. Have a good meeting and I’ll catch ya later.”

I let out a light chuckle before taking my seat and starting the meeting.

****

When I got home, I quickly showered and changed for my date with a woman named Cheyenne. I’d met her last week at an art gallery opening. She was attractive and newly divorced. She told me she’d only been married a couple of years and it was the biggest mistake of her life. One she wouldn’t make again. Her vibe told me that she was looking to have some fun and that was all I wanted too. So, I called her last night after I got home and set up the date. Was she Eloise? Absolutely not, but I couldn’t let her rejection of me interfere with dating other women. I’d been in a couple of relationships in my life and they just never seemed right. I wasn’t against relationships. They just weren’t for me. At least at this point in my life. Maybe in ten years, I’d feel differently. I just dated different women all the time without the hassles of being in a relationship. Life was too short to commit to one person. Especially at my age of thirty. I was in my prime years, building my advertising firm, making a shitload of money, and enjoying everything life had to offer, including beautiful women.

“Sorry I’m late,” I spoke as I leaned over and kissed Cheyenne’s cheek. “Traffic was horrible tonight and I was almost killed twice when the cabbie decided to cut a few people off.”

“No problem.” She smiled.

I took the seat across from her and looked over the wine list.

“Is there a certain type of wine you prefer?” I asked.

“I would actually prefer a bottle of champagne,” she replied.

Wow. That caught me off guard. First date and she’s already expecting the best.

“Okay. Champagne, it is.”

The waitress brought our bottle of Champagne and then proceeded to take our dinner order. Of course, Cheyenne ordered the most expensive thing on the menu. I could already tell she was high maintenance, especially with the amount of Botox she had injected into her skin at such a young age. The more we talked, or should I say, she talked, the more bored I became. When she excused herself to the bathroom, I pulled my phone from my pocket. Pulling up my messages, I sent a text to that girl.

“Hi. I’m on a date and terribly bored.”

“You’re not the only one. I’m also on a date and my face is about ready to hit the plate.”

I let out a light laugh.

“He can’t be worse than mine. She’s a buyer. As in handbags and shoes, for herself.”

“Lol. My guy is a financial advisor, and for the last two hours, all he’s talked about is Roth IRAs and shit. Did I mention he’s wearing a bow tie?”

“You poor girl.”

“He’s coming back from the bathroom. We’ll talk later?”

“Of course. Cut the date short if he’s that bad. If you need my help, let me know.”

“Thanks. But, like the lady I am, I’ll finish it out and then let him down gently.”

“Good girl.”

Cheyenne walked back to the table and sat down in her seat.

“Who were you texting?” she asked.

I gave her an odd look because, frankly, that was none of her business.

“One of my colleagues. There’s a work issue,” I replied.

“Do you always do work when you’re on a date? My ex used to do that all the time and it was so annoying.”

I wanted to tell her that he probably wasn’t working and more than likely texting other women he was seeing on the side. Once we finished dinner, I paid the bill and we stepped out into the brightly lit New York City streets. Cheyenne ran her finger down my chest as I was trying to say good bye.

“How about we go to my place for a nightcap or two?” She smiled.

“As nice as that sounds, I’m afraid I can’t. I have a very early meeting tomorrow.”

“Poo poo.” She pouted.

I sighed, as I couldn’t wait to get away from her.

“Thanks for dinner. I had a great time, Christian. Call me?” Her brow arched.

“I had a nice time too,” I lied. “I’ll call you,” I lied again.

I leaned over and lightly kissed her cheek before putting her in a cab and sending her home.

Stepping into my bedroom, I stripped out of my clothes and put on a pair of black pajama bottoms. Picking up my phone, I sent that girl a text.

“Has your date ended?”

“Yes. I’m home safe and sound. But the talk of Roth IRAs won’t stop circling around in my head. How about you?”

“Yes. I’m home. She wanted to go back to her place. I politely declined.”

“I’m shocked. You turned down sex with a woman? What kind of man are you?”

“A man who looks at a woman for more than just sex. I don’t sleep with every woman I take out. By the way, is there a chance I can get your name? After all, we seem to be texting quite a bit.”

“Wouldn’t that ruin the mystery of us?” she replied. “I kind of like not knowing who you are.”

“I suppose you’re right. Two strangers talking by one accidental text is different. But I still need to call you something other than ‘that girl.’”

“How about Digits?” she replied. “Since I sent you my digits by accident.”

“Digits. I like it. You are now officially in my phone as Digits.”

“Great. I’ll think of a name for you. Enjoy the rest of your evening. I need to go to bed now and sleep off the massive numbers running through my head from all that financial advice I received.”

“Lol. Good night, Digits.”

“Good night, Mobile Man. Oh, there’s your name.”

“I like it.” I smiled as I replied.

“Me too.”