Chapter 2:The Blind Date
890 Words
Chapter 2 – The Blind Date
Maya’s POV
The smell of coffee was the only thing convincing me to stay alive this morning.
I dragged myself into the kitchen, hair a tangled mess, pajamas hanging off one shoulder. Chloe my best friend, roommate, and eternal morning person was already perched on the counter, sipping from her obnoxiously large mug and scrolling through her phone.
“Good morning, sunshine,” she chirped, far too bright for someone who hadn’t been cursed in the night.
“Don’t,” I warned, reaching for the coffee pot.
She ignored me, smile widening. “So… big night tonight.”
I froze mid-pour. “Nope. Not happening.”
“Yes, happening.” She hopped off the counter, blocking my path like a caffeinated bodyguard. “Maya, you promised.”
“I don’t remember promising,” I muttered.
“That’s because you were half-asleep when I asked. Still counts.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Remind me why I let you live here rent-free.”
“Because I’m your best friend and without me, you’d grow old with only Netflix and expired Chinese takeout.” She leaned in, wagging a finger. “Tonight could be the night, Maya. The man of your dreams could be waiting for you.”
I snorted into my mug. “Or it could be another guy who thinks crypto is a personality trait and that ordering extra guac is ‘baller.’”
“Or…” she said dramatically, “it could be someone actually decent. And hot. And not allergic to commitment.”
I rolled my eyes, but a reluctant laugh slipped out. Chloe was ridiculous, but she knew how to wear me down.
“Fine,” I sighed. “But if he shows up in Crocs, I’m out.”
The day disappeared faster than I wanted it to. Work deadlines, errands, Chloe hovering every five minutes to remind me not to cancel. I ignored her, of course.
Around late afternoon, my phone buzzed with a message from the mystery man: I need your address, I’m sending a driver to pick you up
Where should I send the driver to pick you up?
I blinked at the screen.
“What?” I replied
Then he texted again
“I NEED YOUR ADDRESS I’M SENDING A DRIVER TO PICK YOU UP”
A driver? Who even said things like that in real life? After a moment of hesitation, I sent him my address, immediately questioning my life choices.
By seven, I was pacing my bedroom, dress zipped, hair curled, makeup done. I should’ve felt put together, but all I felt was… nervous. I studied my reflection, frowning.
“What am I doing?” I whispered to the girl in the mirror. “This is stupid. Blind dates never work. This is”
The door banged open. Chloe burst in without knocking, squealing like a twelve-year-old at a boy band concert. “Your ride is here, and you are not going to believe it.”
I barely had time to grab my clutch before she dragged me through the apartment, my heels clicking against the floor as I tried to fix my dress and snatch my lipstick from the counter.
We stepped outside, and I froze.
Parked at the curb was a sleek black Lamborghini, polished to a mirror shine, its headlights cutting through the evening like something out of a movie. A chauffeur in a suit stood beside it, holding a bouquet of roses.
My jaw dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Chloe’s grin stretched wider. “Told you he was special.”
The chauffeur handed me the flowers with a polite nod, then opened the car door. My body moved on autopilot, sliding into leather seats that practically whispered money.
The ride was smooth, almost too smooth, the city lights blurring past as my stomach twisted.
By the time we pulled up to La Belle Vie, my mouth was dry. I’d only ever seen this restaurant in glossy magazines and i********: posts of people far richer than me. It was one of the most expensive places in the city definitely not the kind of spot blind dates usually happened.
The moment I stepped through the glass doors, my breath caught. Everything sparkled polished floors reflecting chandeliers that dripped with gold, tables set like art pieces with crystal glasses and silver cutlery. My heels clicked against the marble, too loud, too obvious.
I realized it was empty.
The silence of this place was so loud
Not a single diner, not a single clink of silverware. Just crystal glasses catching the light, and silence thick enough to make my pulse pound.
An usher appeared with a practiced smile. “This way, Ms. Carter.”
The click of my heels echoed against the marbel floors
He led me through the restaurant until my eyes landed on him.
My date.
He sat alone at a table near the center, posture straight, presence magnetic. His suit fit like it had been tailored to every sharp line of his body, dark hair perfectly in place, and his eyes piercing, unreadable locked on me the second I appeared.
The air shifted, humming against my skin .
It looked like he’d rented the entire restaurant for this date.
For me.
And I didn’t even know his name.
- Writer
