MIS-MATCH

Chapter 1

This date has to be perfect. I can't screw up. I mean, it's only my, like, thirty-ninth attempt at finding myself a decent boyfriend. Yes, I'm serious. Before today, I've had thirty-eight blind date that all failed, no exception.

I like thinking I'm unlucky at love, but my roommate Claire believes otherwise. She's convinced that I don't put enough effort to let go of the embarrassment and so on. She insists I change my style and tweak my personality to attract men. I don't want to look and sound fake, though.

As I brush my hair, I tremble. The brush slips off my hand and falls on the floor. Claire picks it, barely retaining laughter. Instead of returning it to me, she keeps it for herself. "You'll have it back when you start putting my advice to practice." She taunts, but I cross her arms in defense.

I retort. "Then I'll buy a new brush. Seriously, Claire, I'm not going to turn into a copy of you again. Last time, it was a disaster. If I have to fail another date, I want to by being just myself." I put the emphasis on the last word, after which Claire concedes her advice isn't gospel and returns the brush to me.

"Okay. How is Miss-Match, though? Does it still glitch?" Miss-Match is a dating app that is supposed to give users the ultimate dating experience, or at least according to reviews. I installed it three months ago after repeated suggestions from Claire. So far, I've only used it once, to score today's date.

Every other app I used has been a bust, which gives me enough reasons not to trust reviews. Maybe this will be the one that brings me the love of my life, but I can't say that until I try. If this is the way for Claire to stop playing matchmaker with me, I'll put up with this one blind date and see how it goes.

Now, it's time to pick an outfit. Knowing my roommate, I bet she'll pick something pretentious and over the top, claiming it will make me 'stand out.' This time, however, I'll choose it myself. I want to prove I can combine different pieces in a unique style that also reflects my personality.

I usher Claire out of the bedroom, lying that a new season of her favorite show on Hulu is set to come out in thirty minutes. She won't fall for it, but at least I can buy myself some time not to let her influence me.

I open the wardrobe and take a close look at my items, before settling on my favorite jeans, a paisley shirt and, guess what? Claire's favorite boots. She'll be pissed at me for taking them. They fit me perfectly! Who'd have known?

I also pick her yellow headband, which she claims she hates, and change. Now I look like a different person! I mean, not the way Claire wants. She'll understand, though. Even the smallest decision can be the most surprising.

I guess I'm ready for the date. I take my black bag, check that everything is on point—including my phone—and leave the house. Fortunately, my roommate doesn't notice me: she's busy rummaging through the freezer to find her vanilla ice-cream. She doesn't know I ate it all last night.

I've talked too much right now. I have to save my breath for the date. I can't fail this time. I won't make another poor figure. I won't be the house's laughingstock anymore.

***

The hotel hall is crowded, but I'm determinate to find my table and take a seat, waiting for my fate. After five minutes of pushing and excusing myself, I reach Table 8. It's still empty, meaning that either I'm early or my date is late. Is that a bad thing, though?

I check the hour on my phone. It's 3:30PM, so I guess he should be here soon. I put the phone back in my bag and start fantasizing about who could be my next potential suitor. Maybe someone mysterious and unapproachable? Or someone more down to Earth, your typical next door guy?

At last, someone approaches my table. It's a man around my age, with messy brown hair and a huge pair of square glasses. He seems quite tall. He excuses himself twice before sitting on the chair opposite mine. "I guess you're 8A, right?"

I nod. "My name's Billie Presley. This is my first time trying blind dates with Miss-Match. What about you?"

"First time with Miss-Match, right? It's mine, as well. Better said, it's my first time with a dating app at all." He blushes. He seems to be a newbie at blind dates. It's quite not what I expected, to be honest.

He face palms. "Oh, sorry, what an idiot! I should introduce myself. I'm David Hyatt. Nice to meet you." He extends a hand, and I shake it, but I can't hide the embarrassment and disappointment.

He's far from my ideal type, but seems a sweet guy. I don't think we're a good match at all, but I don't tell him. Instead, I ask, "What do you do for a living?"

He hesitates. He must have a habit of scratching his head when he's nervous, because it's already the second time he does since we first met just a few minutes ago. I try hard to retain a sigh, but fail. He catches that, but doesn't flinch.

He recollects himself and answers, "I work as a programmer. You know, all that stuff around softwares. I don't know if you're interested, though." I flash a forced smile, but, inside, I cringe. I'm not good at technical stuff at all and barely understand advanced computer language. I just stick with the basics.

"What about you?" His question startles me. I don't know if I should be honest with him, opening up about how I lost my job last month, along with my struggles in general, or just be vague. I freeze, not knowing how to tackle such a delicate situation.

He apologizes. "It looks like I've just struck a nerve of yours. Sorry. I didn't mean to be such direct. I-" He cuts himself off. He also wants out of this disastrous date. Why do I have to be so unlucky? Why can't I have chemistry with anyone? Is Claire right altogether?

"Look, I know it's not easy for you. You must've had different expectations. It's sad you don't think we can match, because you're such an amazing girl. I mean it." For some reason, his words touch me. No other guy has been so candid in revealing his feelings to me, the queen of failed blind dates.

He continues. "Don't take today's date as a failure, but as an opportunity. Maybe we'll cross paths another day, who knows?" I'm about to come up with ways to avoid to answer when an alarm rings. If this means the date is over, thank God. Nothing against David, but it's obvious we're not meant to be.

He stands up and waves me goodbye. "It was nice to talk to you, Billie. Chin up, one day you'll find the man of your dreams. At least you don't get bullied over strange interests." I return the gesture and stand up in turn as he wanders off the hall. What does he mean with 'strange interests,' though?

As I head to the exit, someone stops me on my tracks. I sense a hand patting on my shoulder. It can't be David. He has just left. Who is it, then?