Rehabilitation

Chapter One

- Jaxon -

Blind dates are often associated with negative outcomes.

That's what I read in an article online a few days ago. And now, I am beginning to consider the possibility that the information presented may hold some truth.

An hour into my blind date with Spencer, I'm starting to feel like we're from two different planets. She's confident, but in a way that comes across as self-centered and a little superficial. She's been talking non-stop about her job as a social media influencer, and I'm struggling to keep up with all the jargon.

We are at a trendy new restaurant in the heart of the city. The walls are adorned with modern art pieces, adding a pop of color to the neutral decor. Waiters dart back and forth between tables, delivering plates of food and refilling glasses of wine. The light fixtures are made of frosted glass, casting a soft glow over the tables. Strategically placed spotlights highlight the artwork and create a warm, welcoming ambiance. It's the perfect place to enjoy a romantic dinner or catch up with friends over a glass of wine.

She rambles on. I can't help but wonder if we're even speaking the same language. I'm a high school mathematics teacher, and my work is all about logic and problem-solving. Spencer's work, on the other hand, seems to be all about creating an image and projecting it to the world.

I sink my teeth into the succulent steak. As I chew, I peer up at Spencer. I'm drawn in by her stunning beauty. Her long blonde hair cascades down her back in soft waves, hooking the light and shimmering like liquid gold. Her bright stone-blue eyes flash with a naughty gleam, and her lips turn upward into a coy smile that sets my heart racing.

Despite her bodily quintessence, I can perceive that her interest in me is purely shallow. She seems more intent on talking about herself than getting to know me, and her body language suggests that she's only half-listening to what I have to say.

It seems that Spencer is more interested in her own reflection than the person sitting across from her.

I decided to try and steer the conversation in a different direction.

"So who's your favorite musical artist?" Basic queries usually follow up with simple answers.

You can't go wrong with a simple question.

Right?

Spencer's eyes dart towards me for a moment, but her attention is quickly drawn elsewhere. A group of guys are seated three tables down, all looking around my age. In their early twenties. One man, in selective, snags her eye.

She's not exactly making a great first impression.

One moment she's talking endlessly about herself, and the next she's giving a stranger eye sex.

Who could blame her, though?

This guy reminds me of Michael B. Jordan in Creed—he's got the same obtuse jawline, intense gape, and confident swagger. Unfortunately, he's also got the same predilection to hit on anything with a pulse, including my blind date Spencer. I try to ignore his sleek appearance and focus on getting to know Spencer, but it's hard to compete with someone who looks like he could take on Viktor Drago in the ring.

I definitely had no chance of competing and going toe-to-toe with the next possible big action star.

Spencer's attention was diverted by the man, and she questioned, "What was that?"

"Who's your favorite artist?" I paused, forgetting to emphasize the specific details of the subject.

". . . musically? Anyone in particular?"