More Flirts! 5 Romantic Short Stories (The Flirts! Short Stories Collections) (17 page)

This guy could be anyone. Her courage was waning, but then she thought of Jenny. Jenny would never have a chance to be a missed connection. Too bad it wasn’t on the list; it’d be nice to cross off a few things.

With Jenny on her mind, Zoe twisted her fingers in her lap and finally sucked up the courage to email him. What did she have to lose? If it was a bust, it was a bust. They’d meet in public, and maybe—just maybe—this would go somewhere. “Hi! It’s the girl in the pink hat. I was on the green line Tuesday. You’re the guy with the newspaper, right? I saw your message and I’d love to meet you. Zoe.” She looked up at the ceiling. “I hope this is the right thing to do, Jenny.” Then she crossed her fingers and hit send.

***

Zoe had a hard time sleeping, wondering if the man on the T would get back to her, if he had a prison record, and if she’d ever get the courage to go skydiving and cross that off the list. Deathbed promises were iron clad weren’t they? Besides, she was one hundred percent certain Jenny would come back as a ghost to haunt her if she didn’t fulfill all the demands on the list.

Luckily, the next morning was Saturday, so she could sleep in. She made a cup of coffee and then hurried to her computer. It was unlikely, but maybe her mystery man had gotten back to her. She logged onto her email account and almost spit out her coffee. He’d emailed her back already.

Taking a deep breath, she clicked on the message. “Hi, Zoe! I’m so glad you saw my ad on Craigslist. I hope you don’t think I’m crazy. I just haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Can you meet for coffee today? I know it’s last minute, maybe today around two at The Jumping Bean? I look forward to meeting you. Nick.”

Zoe jumped up and spun around. Today! He wanted to meet her today. Please be the cute one in the suit and not the bellyscratcher. “Nick, that sounds great. I’ll see you then. I’ll be the one in the pink hat.”

She hit send. He quickly replied, “And I’ll have a pink rose waiting for you.”

***

Zoe took a bath. One of the long luxurious soaks she used to enjoy before her world had turned gray, before each day became just another one to get through. She had never loved her job as a customer service rep at the insurance company. Growing up, she and Jenny talked about their dream jobs—working on cruise ships, going to Hollywood to become actresses. Working in a phone bank had never been on her wish list. But it paid the bills—usually.
That’s where a communication degree gets you
, she thought to herself. After Jenny’s death, it had become nearly impossible to fake the kindness needed when dealing with callers complaining about their copays. ‘At least you’re alive!’ she always wanted to shout.

Her therapist told her she had to move forward, instead of looking back all the time. “You’re missing the gift of the present,” Diana would tell her. “Jenny wouldn’t want you to miss that.” So, Zoe sank back in the bubbles, trying to focus on the present, and her meeting with Nick. Quick showers were the name of the game these days. But this time, she had lit a candle and put on classical music. It was nice, she had to admit.

After drying off and getting ready, she put on her hat and did a last minute outfit check in the mirror. Zoe walked four blocks to the café, forcing herself to breathe deeply. She’d never met a stranger for a date before. And no one had ever gone to such trouble to meet her. She adjusted her hat and straightened her shoulders before walking into the coffee shop. She was glad to see it wasn’t too busy at this hour. That had been a good call by Nick.
Smart and handsome
, she thought. It didn’t take long to find him, sitting at a table pushed up against the wall; a perfect pink rose lying on the table. She let out the breath she’d been holding—he was gorgeous. He wasn’t the bellyscratcher, that was for sure. He must’ve been the hottie who’d been wearing the suit and reading the newspaper. She’d been distracted that day, going over the list, wondering how she was going to fulfill all of Jenny’s wishes.

But looking at Nick now, she couldn’t hold back her grin. She walked over as he sat there, his mouth parted and his eyes wide.
He must be nervous, too
, she thought. He stood up. “Hi,” he said. He was well over six feet tall, with a very nice build, and a face that would send her home to write a poem—if she were a poet.
Hey, I am a poet
!
Home and poem rhyme
! Did poets ever write poems about men’s faces?

Before her mind spun totally out of control, she sat down, adjusted her hat, and smiled. “So this is different.” She offered her hand, even though it was a bit shaky. “I’m Zoe.”

He sat down. “Nick,” he said shaking her hand, still looking dazed.

He pulled his hand back and she set hers in her lap, clenching her fingers to try and calm herself down. “I’m so glad it’s you,” she said. “I mean, I wasn’t totally sure. I did catch the gaze of a few people—oh, not to say everyone was checking me out. God, no. I just meant, I like people watching and I did smile and acknowledge a few people, but I was hoping it was you. And you went to so much trouble to find me. It’s not like I’m trolling Craigslist to find people who are looking for me.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I was looking for an accordion and sometimes its fun to check out the missed connections. Makes you wonder how often you might’ve lost out on love because of bad timing. And you took the time to find me.” She pressed her hand over heart. “You don’t know what that means to me. No one has ever done anything like that.” She stopped and swallowed. Dear god, how long had she been blathering on? “I’m sorry. I’m nervous. I haven’t given you a chance to say one word.”

Nick blinked at her. “No, no. That’s totally okay.”

She let out a breath and dropped her shoulders. “So, were you surprised to hear from me?”

He looked down and ran his finger over a rose petal. “Yes. Yes, I was.” A lock of dark hair fell in his eyes, but she could tell he wasn’t smiling.

“What’s wrong, Nick?”

He looked up at her, and then back down.

She placed her palms flat on the table. “I’m sorry. I babble when I’m nervous.”

He shook his head. “No, you’re sweet. It’s cute.”

“Cute. That’s not a good word.” Damn. He must’ve gotten a second look at her and changed his mind. Maybe her hat had shadowed her face on the train. “Just level with me. What’s wrong?”

He looked up at her, with his mouth turned down. “You’re not the girl in the pink hat.”

She reached up to her hat and her heart dropped. “What do you mean? This is pink. Hot-time-in-the-city pink.”

Nick wouldn’t look at her. “It was a different hat. And she was taller. Her hair was longer, too. Which car were you riding in?”

“The first.”

“I was in the second or third.”

She pushed back her chair, but was too shaky too stand. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I just thought…I was on that train. I was wearing this pink hat.”

He shook his head. “Her hat was this little flat thing, like a pancake sitting on her head.”

“A beret. It would have been helpful to include that in the ad.” She looked out the window, too embarrassed to see the disappointment in his eyes. “I’ve got to go.”

“No.” He reached out for her hand. “Stay. Let’s have a coffee at least. I’m always on the lookout for new friends who love the accordion.” His smile almost killed her. “You have to tell me why you were looking for an accordion on Craigslist.”

She pulled her hand away. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, now I’ve got to hear it. Long is usually good.”

She bit her lip, considering. “”You’ve heard of bucket lists, right?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Yeah. Stuff to do before you die.”

“Exactly. Well, my cousin, Jenny, had a bucket list.”

His smile fell. “This story doesn’t sound so good anymore.”

“No. It’s not. Jenny died right after the new year. Skin cancer.”

His eyes widened. “Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry.”

She swallowed back the familiar surge of sadness. “I know. It sucks. Before we lost her, she gave me her list and made me promise to fulfill it for her. She called it her ‘live-it-up list.’”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Playing the accordion was on her live-it-up list?”

Zoe laughed. “No. Not originally. Once I promised I’d do it, she started adding all these crazy things to it. Stuff she knew I’d never want to do—zip lining. Having sex in a tent. She knows I hate camping. Oh, and zorbing. I don’t even know what that is. I’ve been too scared to investigate that one.”

He stared at her with a little smile. “That’s really great of you.”

“Don’t give me too much credit. I’m just scared of what she’ll do to me from the afterlife if I don’t fulfill all these wishes.”

‘“Which ones have you managed so far?”

“I’ve made homemade jam. And I’m trying to solve Rubix’s Cube.”

“That’s it?”

“You should see the list. Really, it’ll be impossible to complete. She wants me to go to see Stonehenge. To throw a dart at a map and travel where it lands. To throw out a pitch at Fenway.”

“Do you have the list with you?”

“No,” she lied. “It’s somewhere safe. And she told everyone in her family about it, so they can hound me, too, just in case she can’t figure out how to turn herself into a ghost.”

Nick just looked at her with this adorable little grin on his face; like she’d told him she had proof the Keebler elves were real. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. That’s wild,” he said. “What else is on it?”

“Oh, she wants me to swim with dolphins and go hot air ballooning. Visit a nude beach. Kiss a man from every state.” She threw up her hands.

He whistled softly. “You’d better get busy, girl.”

“I know. I’ve only got two states down—Massachusetts and Rhode Island.”

He stared at her. “Hey, let me get you that cup of coffee.”

She stood up. “No, I’ve got to be going. It was nice meeting you. Hopefully, you’ll see the real girl in the pink hat again. Well, the pink beret.”

Nick popped up from his seat. “I’m sorry, Zoe. I shouldn’t have admitted that it wasn’t you. I put you in an awkward position.”

“Of course you should’ve told me. It would’ve been worse to never have heard from you again and not known why.”

“Zoe…” He turned up his hands, but she hurried out of the café before he could see the tears welling in her eyes.

***

She wasn’t proud of it, but she went home and cried—for the loss of happy days, for the loss of hope—for all the things on the list she knew she wouldn’t be able to do. Thinking she’d been a missed connection had been the only bright spot in the last six months. She’d been trying so hard not to count the number of times she’d invited Jenny to the beach, or to lie out by her parents’ pool. The cancerous mole had been on her shoulder. Why hadn’t Zoe noticed it? It was too late by the time her ob-gyn spotted it during Jenny’s yearly visit. What if she and Jenny had gone to the movies a few of those times instead of baking in the sun? Would that have been enough to make a difference?

Zoe slipped on her coziest jammies and crawled under the covers. Maybe she’d be able to cross off one item on the bucket list—spend the entire weekend in bed. Although Jenny had added ‘with a hot guy,’ so lying there with a box of tissues and a plate of cookies probably didn’t count.

***

The next few days Zoe would dash home from work, hoping an email might show up from Nick. But it didn’t. He was probably just as disappointed as she was that he didn’t find the real girl in the pink hat.
A beret
. A basic fashion IQ would’ve gone a long way, buddy.

One night after torturing herself with the missed connections, she took out her list and folded it in half. And then again. She tucked it in a desk drawer under her tax information from the last few years. “Sorry, Jenny,” she said. “You had too much faith in me.” She unscrewed a new jar of the strawberry-lime jam she’d made, and started eating it with a spoon. “Yeah, look at me now.”

She closed her eyes and set down the jam. This was pathetic. She could do anything in the world—and Jenny couldn’t. Was she really going to disappoint her and do nothing? Just because of a misunderstood missed connection? She and Jenny would be laughing about this, not crying in jars of jam.

She opened her desk drawer and found the list. Spreading it across the desk she read it for probably the hundredth time. She ran her finger down the items and stopped on one that would force her to have a new attitude. “I’m going to do it, Jenny.”

She scheduled an appointment with her hairdresser and got ready to cross another item before she lost steam.

***

“Pink?” Katie, her hairdresser asked.

“Yep.”

Katie raised her pierced eyebrow; the small diamond stud winking at her like it was in on this joke. “Pink.”

“Pink.”

Katie shrugged. “What shade?”

“Like my hat.” Zoe held up the hat sitting in her lap.

“Hot pink.” She shrugged. “You really don’t seem the type, but okay.”

An hour later when it was all done, Zoe stared at herself in the mirror. It was by far one of the craziest things she’d ever done and part of her wanted to cry, she looked so different. Katie was right. She just wasn’t a pink hair kind of girl. But pink hair wasn’t something to cry about these days. Pink hair was an adventure—an adventure Jenny would never have.
What the hell, it’s just hair
. “I love it!” Zoe said, after staring at herself for a moment. “This is going to be fun.”

***

But it hadn’t been. Not yet. She had to answer endless questions at work about her hair. The girl in the cubicle next to her swore there was something in the employee manual about hair color under the dress code section. Retelling Jenny’s tale so many times to explain why she’d made the color change had taken its toll. So, Zoe should’ve been thrilled the weekend had arrived. But it just seemed like a long stretch of time to spend by herself feeling lonely and sad. Maybe she’d learn how to knit; it was on the list.
I’ll knit myself a cover up for the nude beach
. When she walked into the lobby of her apartment building, there was a note on her mailbox to see the building superintendent. Was Mrs. Beener next door complaining about the smell of cooking jam again?