The Blind Date

Inspo: two bookworms get paired up on a blind date.

I always loved the smell of books.

The enriched knowledge within, crusted with age and weather, and yet still withholding its delirious secrets. Pages upon pages of words transcending the mere world we call reality. Meanings within symbolism so deep I couldn’t be able to reach the bottle with my toes.

And when there was many in one place… Well, I always loved to dive.

As I entered the undersea of my perfect home, I didn’t think so much about this ‘romantic prospect’ my friends have deemed such boring use of time. What’s the use of romance in reality when you could delve into the world filled with the voices too great for the mundane mass? Nonetheless, here I was standing near the precariously disgusting fiction section of the romance genre. Its entire space all encompassed a complete wall and a half from the very library. A big waste of space when it could’ve been utilised for the theoretical realm.

My friends had given the piece of advice to stand near the romance genre to appear… Interested. To present myself willing to dabble in this so called, ‘blind date prepping’, or some another oddity. So, to appear alluring to my to be blind date individual, I fingered each book with the mask of attention.

Soft romance, queer romance, dark romance, enemies-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers. Which can be shortened down as rubbish.

My energy for this ‘prepping’ was veering into complete impatience. What is taking them so long? For the love of books, they must be really unpunctual to keep me ‘prepping’ this long. To distract myself, I meandered through the trees of fantasy and alternate history. Much more digestible and something to reminisce of. I picked one, a hefty high fantasy, and skimmed the pages of with my hand. Thankfully the light illuminated the story’s world and lovely characters.

To be with complete honesty, the book had incredible plot structure, and the flow of pages was near the level of Game of Thrones, which was one of my only favourite fiction novels to ever willingly read, out of my precious days. Characters seemed to really evoke an image in my mind with so much crystal clearness. It felt like the main male protagonist and his—wait, there’s a romance…

Oh wait—on second thought, it’s a minor subplot. However, the portrayal of this woman is quite captivating. Her role in the story serves a major pillar of plot and development for the world and herself. She wasn’t some knock-off Katniss Everdeen or a typically displayed young girl with blonde hair and white teeth.

As I was genuinely invested in the realm of such book, which exceeded my expectations of being distracted, I felt my ears perked up at a soft breeze… A chuckle with jingling trinkets? Looking up and readjusting my glasses, I was bestowed with the sight of a happy go lucky, widely smiling, girl. Her hair was like my sheets at night. Velvety and inviting. Her eyes were framed with beautiful lashes and the colours of such windows were burning in amber stone. She looked unreal—surreal. As if she herself stepped out of the fantasy book I was still holding in my hand and graced this woodsy alcove in her glow.

“Hi! I think you’re my date.” She said with pearly white teeth and gleaming eyes.

Wait… She’s my blind date?

She must have seen the way my jaw dropped, my eyes widen and the book falling out of my hand because she was giggling all so contagiously joyful.

I scrambled to grab the book and then I felt her hand. A rose red heat blew into my cheeks, and I looked up to see her winking at me.

Oh, my heart.

“I-I’m sorry… I’m not usually this clumsy.” I said with too much stupor.

She shook her head and held my hand still when I stood up. The softness of her finger tips like soft cushions on my hard knuckles.

“What’s your name, if you don’t me asking?”

“I-I… Uh,” I cleared my throat, “I’m Simon Wells. And y-you are?”

“I’m Willow Curtson. I love your glasses and hair.”

Instinctively, I reached up to my metal framed glasses and my messy brown hair I didn’t think was worthy to be complimented.

“O-Oh thank you. I-I… Um, I really like your necklace and eyes.” I said with darting eyes.

She must have taken it well because she giggled and caressed my knuckles. Is that a good thing? Or is that her being nice? Am I overthinking this?

“Do you like nonfiction books?”

“I love nonfiction.”

She had that gleam again.

“Let’s read some together.”