A Tinder Date With The Alpha

A Date

OLIVIA

“You better stick to your word and make this your last date, Ollie,” my sister says, driving me to the restaurant at which I’m supposed to meet my date.

I sigh, not quite sure what to say to her. She’s been begging me to quit online dating for almost a year now and I tried but I couldn’t make myself stop. It’s not an addiction, I just can’t give up my search for a soulmate so I go on dates with different guys I meet online and so far, I haven’t felt a connection with anyone. I’ve had boyfriends in the past but they all just didn’t live up to expectations.

“It’ll be the last one, I promise,” I say to Isabella, “If I don’t like him or feel any connection then I’m done being the Tinder w***e that you think I am.”

Isabella gives me a side glance and focuses her eyes back on the road, “You know what? Love is supposed to come to you, you don’t have to chase it.”

“I know, Isa. You tell me that all the time but look at me, I’m 25 and Mom has been pestering me about marriage and kids. I just want to find love like you and be happy, that’s all.”

Isabella just rolls her eyes and continues to drive. I know my sister loves me and she’s talking me out of chasing love on online platforms for my good but nothing horrific has happened to me so far. I haven’t been a victim of stalkers or anything.

“I’m not picking you up,” Isabella says, parking just in front of the restaurant.

“How will I get home then?” I ask, frustrated and she shrugs.

“Uber, maybe?”

I take a deep breath and clench my purse, opening the door, “This is the last date, I promise.”

She nods as I hop out of the car and drives away the moment I enter the restaurant. That’s how it’s been ever since my car broke down, she’d drive me to dates and pick me up afterward, except today she’s not picking me up.

All the seats in the restaurant are empty except for one which is occupied by someone. A man, his back to me. My heart pounds hard against my chest as I walk towards him. I stop when I notice that he doesn’t turn to the sound of my stilettos against the floor and I’m about to turn and go back when he finally stands up.

“Olivia from Tinder?” He asks walking towards me, his gigantic figure taking me by surprise.

I nod, unable to say a word. His face is just as it is on his profile, maybe even better but his body? Not quite what I imagined.

“I thought you stood me up,” he says, extending his arm.

I force a smile, and hold my purse to my stomach with both hands to avoid shaking his, “I wouldn’t do that. This place is pretty empty for a renowned restaurant.”

“Of course,” he says, his voice deep, “I asked the manager if it could just be you and I here for a few hours, that’s why there aren’t any other people.”

He pulls his hand back, folding it into a fist as he walks to the nearest table and I follow behind him. I’m nervous and thinking maybe today is the day something bad happens to me, maybe it’s the day I experience something horrific enough and equivalent to one of those Tinder experience stories that Isabella is always watching on YouTube and talking about.

Dillon sniffs the air, the act making my attention shift away from my thoughts and to him as I sit down opposite him.

“Do you smell that?” He asks, smirking as I sniff the air, mimicking him.

“I don’t smell anything,” I say, shaking my head.

He frowns and then clears his throat, “It’s your perfume, I guess. You smell nice.”

“Thank you, you smell nice too…and different.”

“What do you mean different?” He asks as a waiter approaches with a tray, “Do you go on such dates often?”

“I do but this is my last one, do you?” I ask.

“I’ve been on a few dates and today definitely isn’t my last,” he says, staring at me.

I chuckle uncomfortably, bobbing my head forward so that my hair falls onto my face to cover the scar on my right cheek.

He doesn’t look away, his eyes linger on my cheek and I feel like sinking into the ground.

“I was in an abusive relationship,” I say, feeling the need to explain the scar.

“You don’t look like your pictures,” he says, “you look better in the pictures.”

I sigh, summoning everything within me to help me hold myself together. This will turn out like most of the other dates I’ve been on even though I came here with the hope that I’ll experience something different. I’m somewhat attracted to him but I doubt I’ll feel the same by the time I walk out of this place.

The waiter bows after making many trips to and from the kitchen, signaling that he’s done serving and Dillon gets his cutlery almost immediately and begins to cut through his meat.

I follow and grab my own cutlery, starting to eat the food I didn’t even order.

He doesn’t say a word as he eats.

I’m twisting my fork on a small heap of pasta when light flashes across my face making me stop.

“Did you just take a picture of me?” I ask, angry and he nods.

“Of course.”

Several thoughts run through my head, who is this mannerless man, why did he bring a camera to a date and why did he just take a picture of me? I instantly regret swiping right and even agreeing to come on a date with him.

“Why would you do that without my consent?” I ask, trying to sound as polite as possible.

“I don’t need your consent to do whatever I want,” he says.

“I should have thought twice before swiping right on you,” I say, standing up and grabbing my purse. I can’t stand his strange behavior and if I’m being honest, staying around him longer will only shoot my levels of paranoia.

He doesn’t respond as I walk towards the door and out. Even as I wait for my Uber right outside the door, he doesn’t come after me. I look back into the restaurant through the glass doors when my Uber finally arrives and see Dillon sliding my plate towards himself. He’s eating my food. This has to be the worst of all the dates I’ve been on.

“Date gone wrong?” The Uber driver asks and I nod in the back seat.

“Yeah…worst date I’ve ever been on.”

“Love will find you,” he says, parking in front of my sister’s house after a long silent drive, “you don’t have to force it or chase after it.”

I roll my eyes at that because I’ve heard it several times from Isabella.

“Thank you,” I say as I hop out of the Uber, waving at the driver.

Isabella is pacing the living room, cradling her son Charlie when I open the door.

“I thought you’d be slee…”

“Shhhhh,” she hushes and I stealthily walk across the marble floor to the nearest couch.

“Let me take him to bed, I’ll be back,” she whispers and I nod, kicking the stilettos off my feet.

I relax on the couch and sigh, closing my eyes as I wait for Isabella to come back into the living room.

“You seem tense,” she says and I recoil at the sound of her voice.

“I thought you’d take longer,” I say, folding my legs up on the couch, “I didn’t even hear you descend the stairs.”

“I’m sorry about earlier, I was just a little frustrated and I took it out on you,” she says, taking a seat next to me. “You know I’d have picked you up had you called and asked.”

I don’t respond to that.

“How did it go?” She asks and I sigh.

“He thought I looked prettier in my pictures than in person and he kept looking at my scar. He even took a photograph of me without my permission and that just annoyed me so I left. The worst part is that he didn’t even chase after me or ask me to stay, he stayed in his seat and ate my food instead. Luckily, there was no one else in the restaurant to watch all that. It was just…”

Isabella’s laughter interrupts me.

“He…he ate your food?” She asks between hysterics and I sigh in frustration. I should have known best to omit that part in my narration but it skipped my mind.

“Can you at least sympathize with me?” I ask but she’s still laughing, tears falling out of her eyes the way they do whenever she laughs so hard.

“I’m sorry, little sis but I couldn’t hold my laughter in. That dude is some serious douchebag. I’m sorry your last date turned out to be the worst,” she says when she’s calm, “someone who will love and respect you will come…someone who will take care of you. Love will find you.”

I reach for my cheekbone and run my fingers along the scar there, the violent nights that brought about this and the other scars I have on my body running through my mind, “Maybe you’re right, Isa. Love will find me some day.”

Isabella gets up and kisses my forehead, “I’m going to bed now. I hope you’ve deleted all those dating apps by now. I love you.”

“I love you too,” I say, opening my purse to get my phone.

I begin to delete the dating apps one by one and when I get to Tinder, I open it one last time hoping to find a message from Dillon. As if to match my hopes, there’s a message but it’s not an apology, it’s a picture of a printed photograph he took of me without my permission, laying flat across a wooden surface. The caption ‘You forgot this’ is typed in bold under the picture.

I fight the urge to reply to the message and following Isabella’s advice, I delete Tinder.