Match Me (4 page)

“Sailing club.”

“Since when do you sail?”

She smiled. “I don’t. Domenico does.”

“And who is Domenico?” I pulled my knees under me.

“A guy I met.” She paused for dramatic effect. “On the dating site.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Wait. Hear me out.” She whipped out her phone and tapped the screen. “Here. Look.”

A gorgeous Italian man stared back at me.

“That’s Domenico?”

She nodded.

“Why the hell does he need to use a dating site?”

“Well, you know, it can be hard to find someone you have things in common with. And someone who can see past your good looks.”

I snorted. “And what do you have in common with the hunk?”

“Lots of things! We both love to cook. We like to discuss politics. We love to travel.”

“And the sailing? Did you tell him you like sailing, too?”

“I did.” Jill grinned. “I’m sure I’ll like it. Love it, even.”

“Whatever.” I made a move to stand but she reached out her hand to stop me.

“Wait a minute.” She swiped the screen. “Let me show you something.”

I waited.

“Here.” She handed the phone to me.

It was opened to a new picture. Mine.

“What is this??”

“You.” She propped her long legs on the coffee table and crossed them. “I made an account for you.”

I tossed the phone back into her lap. “Oh my God. I cannot believe you did this.”

“Will you just let me explain?” 

“No.”

She sighed. “I swear to God, you are the most impossible human on the planet.”

“I’m impossible?” I glared at her. “I’m not the one who just made a fake account on a dating web site for a friend who doesn’t want to be hooked up.”

“Yes, you do,” she said firmly. “You just don’t know it yet.”

“Whatever.” I crossed my arms and shot daggers at her with my eyes.

“We’ve already discussed this,” she said. “You need to move on.”

“I don’t want to.” I knew I sounded like a pouting toddler. I didn’t care.

“Shut up.” She picked up her phone and began to scroll. “And look at
this
.”

When I didn’t take the phone from her outstretched hands, she shoved it in front of my face. The screen showed a mailbox. With seven messages.

I raised my eyebrows. “So?”

“These are messages for you. Guys interested in
you
.”

I stared at the screen. The white envelope symbol, the blue number 7 in parentheses. Seven men. Interested in me. Seven men who were not Chase Somers.

She scooted closer to me. “Look.”

She tapped the screen and a list popped up. With teeny tiny pictures. She tapped on the first one. A dark-haired guy with a square jaw and a friendly smile blew up on my screen.

“This is Doug.” She read the microscopic print under the photo. “He’s an electrician. He likes movies and motorcycles.”

“Motorcycles?” I rolled my eyes.

“But movies! You love movies.”

“I cannot believe I’m having this conversation,” I muttered. “And I can’t believe I haven’t told you about Paul yet.”

She ignored me and selected a different photo. A blond haired, blue-eyed man who was the spitting image of Chase gazed into my eyes. I ripped the phone from her hands.

NINE

I peered at the screen. “He likes movies, too. And camping. And he’s looking for someone with a good sense of humor. I’m funny, right?”

“Sure.” Jill leaned closer so she could see the picture. She groaned. “Oh, no. Do not pick him. “

“Why not?” I kept reading. “He’s a grad student. Cell biology. That means he’s smart. And he has a job. He works at the Arboretum. I like flowers.”

She shook her head. “He isn’t Chase.”

“I know that. His name…” I checked the screen. “His name is Bjorn.”

She snorted. “Ya, dontcha know,” she said in an exaggerated accent. She’d moved to Minnesota the summer before eighth grade and loved to mock us natives. Especially the ones with Swedish roots.

“I’ll go out with him,” I announced.

“Duh.” She stood up and padded into the kitchen. “But, I’m warning you. You shouldn’t do it. Pick someone else. Someone that won’t remind you of your ex who is currently honeymooning in paradise. With someone else.”

I flinched. “I know he’s not Chase.”

She grabbed a diet Coke from the fridge and popped it open. “Bull. I was expecting to drag you to your first date. And now you’re suddenly ready to go? Willingly? There’s only one reason you’re on it. Because he’s a dead ringer for the ex.”

“Maybe I only like blond-haired guys.” Did I? “Did you ever think of that?”

“Or maybe you’ve only ever dated one guy ever in the history of your life and he just happened to be blond.”

“Whatever.” I was quiet for a minute.

I knew the web-site guy looked like Chase and I knew that was the only reason I was even considering meeting up with him. But I also knew that, if I didn’t go on this date, Jill would badger me until I did. Knowing her, she probably
would
drag me, kicking and screaming, out to meet someone. Someone she chose. No, thanks. Better to just get it over with. The bonus was I could sit at dinner and gaze at Bjorn and maybe, just maybe, my vision would blur just a bit and his features would soften and I could convince myself I was on a date with the only guy I wanted to be with. Pathetic, yes. But true.

She rummaged in my cupboard and pulled out an opened package of chocolate chip cookies. “Fine. Go out with him. I’m OK with that. But you have to promise me something.”

“What?”

“Oh my God, these are stale.” She wrinkled her nose and tossed her half-eaten cookie in the trash. She wiped her hands on her shorts. “Promise me you’ll go on another date. With someone else.”

“Ugh.” I shook my head.

“Wait,” she said, holding up her hand. “Hear me out. One more person. Someone who doesn’t look like Chase. We can set both up now. One for tomorrow night and one for the next. You’ve got seven guys to choose from!”

“Tomorrow?” I panicked. “I don’t want to go out with someone tomorrow. Aren’t you supposed to, like, get to know them first? Exchange e-mails and stuff?”

Jill rolled her eyes. “Uh. No. People aren’t real online.”

“Excuse me? Then why the hell did you sign me up for an online dating service?”

She took a sip of her Coke. “Not what I meant. People can say whatever they want in emails. You’re not getting a real first impression. You need to meet in person.”

“But–”

She disappeared into my bedroom and returned carrying my laptop.

“No buts,” she said, settling next to me on the couch. “Now let’s set up a date.”

It was useless to argue. She pulled up the web site and logged me in and Chase’s doppelganger appeared and my heart tripped a little faster. Maybe this was the answer. Maybe the Universe was telling me I was supposed to be with this guy, not Chase. Somehow, wires had gotten crossed and Chase was accidentally introduced into my life and I’d gotten confused, thinking he was my soul mate. But maybe it was Bjorn all along? I’d have to pull out the tarot cards later.

Jill pecked at the keyboard. She opened a calendar and typed a message while I sat next to her, daydreaming.

By the time it was all said and done and she was packing up and wishing me goodnight, I realized two things. One: I had a date with the Chase lookalike. And two: I’d never gotten around to telling her about Paul.

TEN

Chase’s doppelganger was five minutes late. Just long enough for me to panic. I felt light-headed and sick as I sat, alone, at a table at The Irish Lass. How could he stand me up? He hadn’t even met me yet. I whipped out my phone and texted Jill.

He’s not here.

Relax.

He stood me up!!

He’s five minutes late. He’s coming from Chaska.

I’m leaving.

“Bonnie?”

I looked up. Bjorn stood in front of me, looking decidedly un-Chase like. For one, he was at least six inches shorter. I was pretty sure he wasn’t much taller than me. So much for being a tall Swede. He also wore glasses. Not cool ones like Jill, but half-inch wide black frames with thick lenses that might’ve set me on fire if the sun had been on the other side of them.

“Uh, hi.” I shoved my phone back in my purse and stood up. My knee hit the table and my glass of water tipped over.

Bjorn rushed to grab it at the same time I did. Our heads clunked together.

“Ow.” He rubbed his temple.

I was sure my face couldn’t get any redder. “Oh my gosh. I’m sorry.”

A waiter descended and whisked away the soaked tablecloth. Bjorn stood there, unsure what to do next.

“Do you think we stay at this table?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

So we stood there and alternated between glancing around and looking at each other. My phone dinged in my purse. Jill. Texting me. What would she do in this situation? Probably not stand around, looking like a cow waiting to be led to slaughter.

The waiter returned and placed a dry tablecloth on the table.

Bjorn sat. “Well, that was an interesting start.”

“Yeah.” I forced a smile. “Sorry again.”

He took the menu the waiter handed him and opened it. “So. Are you always this clumsy?”

“Excuse me?”

He laughed and it reminded me of my babysitting years, watching Swiper the Fox giggle menacingly at his own antics. “I was kidding.”

“Oh.”

“Do you want a drink? A beer or something?”

I shook my head. “I’m not 21 yet.”

He cocked his head. “You mean you listed your real age on that site?”

I nodded. I didn’t know what Jill had said about me. She was the one who’d created my profile.

“Huh.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “I thought everyone lied on those things.”

I wondered what he might have lied about on his.

An awkward silence settled between us.

“So,” I said, unable to take the silence. “You’re a grad student at U of M?”

He nodded. “Yes. Cell biology. And you’re…you work at a toy store?”

“Yeah. And I go to school.”

“Right, right.” He furrowed his brow. “The community college here.”

He said it like I was enrolled in beauty school. I felt my blood pressure rise.

We ordered our food—a hamburger for him and a bowl of Irish stew for me—and I tried again.

I sipped the glass of water the waiter had delivered. “What’s it like working at the Arboretum? I’ve only been there once.”

We’d gone at Christmas time when I was a kid, to their big gingerbread house display in the main lodge. I’d never walked the grounds.

He shrugged. “It’s a job. I maintain trails.”

“Are you interested in botany?”

“No.” He grinned. “Animals.”

I loved animals. “Oh? I guess there would be a lot there on the trails. What do you see there?”

“The usual. Squirrels. Some fox and coyote. Lots of turtles.”

“I love turtles!” I smiled. The turtle was my totem animal. Finally, a connection.

“Oh, cool.”

The waiter returned and set our food in front of us.

Bjorn took a bite of his hamburger. He talked as he chewed. “Yeah, they taste amazing.”

The spoon froze halfway to my mouth. “What?”

“Soup. I make a pretty mean turtle soup.” He motioned to the bowl in front of me. “You know, like the stew you ordered. But less thick.” He laughed again.

I set my spoon down. “You eat turtles?”

“Well, yeah.” He leaned toward me and his eyes weren’t like Chase’s at all. “But let’s keep it between you and me.”

I would have been ashamed to admit I ate turtles, too.

“I kind of hunt them on the sly.”

“What??” He was a turtle murderer
and
a poacher?

“Not the endangered ones. I’m a biologist, remember?”

The sickish feeling returned and I stood up. “Um, I have to use the restroom.”

I grabbed my purse and flew to the ladies room. I leaned against the counter and pulled out my phone and texted Jill.

He’s a turtle killer!

Excuse me?

Bjorn! He EATS turtles!

So?

I LOVE turtles!

I don’t think he’ll eat any PET turtles you might have when you’re married.

I slammed the phone shut in frustration.

The date had been a mistake. I should have let Jill talk me out of it.

“Oh my God. What are
you
doing here?” Jenna’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

I turned toward the door. “Uh, eating dinner.” With a turtle killer.

Her blond hair was swept into a gorgeous, messy up-do and she had on heels that made her almost as tall as Paul Bunyan. “By yourself?” she asked, sneering. “Since your lover jilted you?”

“Whatever.” I held on to my purse and started past her.

She reached out and grabbed my shoulder. Hard. “I made a promise to Angela on her wedding day. The day you almost ruined. Wanna know what it was?”

I didn’t answer, but I shook free of her hand.

“I told her not to worry. While she was on her honeymoon, enjoying every second with Chase, I’d do my best to ruin
you
.”

ELEVEN

“It was bad enough that I had to suffer through dinner with a turtle torturer,” I complained to Jill a few days later. “But to deal with Jenna the Avenger, too? I barely made it through the night.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she said, rolling her eyes.

We were back at Wonder World and I was back to unpacking boxes. Jill had stopped by to pick up a present for a cousin who was turning nine. She bypassed the selection of stuffed bacterium and viruses and opted instead for a velcro dart board.

“Look, I don’t think it’s too much to ask to try and find someone to have dinner with who does not sacrifice my totem animal.” I shoved a handful of eyeball yo-yos into an empty plexiglass bin.

“Honestly. Sometimes I wonder how we are even friends.”

I nodded my head. “I know, right? You are impossible. No sympathy for me whatsoever.”