“I thought you left.” Dev says.
“I thought you left, too.”
We stare at each other as the sounds of the cicadas ring out around us, setting a rhythm to the night that is so uniquely New Orleans. “Are you here waiting for me?” I ask.
He shrugs. “When I thought you’d left, I figured I’d just go home. But then I got out here and saw your car, so I got concerned. I figured I’d wait for you a little while, and if you didn’t show up, I was going to launch a manhunt.”
I can’t help but smile. “A manhunt? That sounds serious.”
He nods slowly. “It is.”
I want to believe that there’s a lot more to his answer than just those two simple words he gave me, but before I can wonder about it too much longer, he pulls me away from my train of thought.
“Did your guy show up?”
I shake my head. “Nope. I guess that’s just the way it goes sometimes.” Now that I’m standing here with Dev, it really doesn’t seem like such a bad deal after all.
“Are you sure he wasn’t in there? There were a lot of guys who looked like they might be single.”
I shrug. “He told me he’d be wearing a blue shirt, and the only ones in there with blue shirts were you, a senior citizen, and one other guy, but he had a girl with him.”
Dev’s eyes go a little wide. “A blue shirt?”
I nod. “Yes, a blue shirt. That’s how I was supposed to identify him. And I put my picture on my profile, so he should’ve been able to find me easily. I didn’t Photoshop it, and I didn’t use one that’s ten years old, either.”
Dev smiles. Then he puts his fist on his forehead and tips his head back, laughing like he’s at a comedy show. “Oh, God!” he moans, standing up straight again.
“What? Is this funny? Is me getting stood up that hilarious?”
“Oh my god,” he says, looking at me again, “no. It’s not that. I can’t believe this.”
I’m starting to get miffed, because I have no idea what he’s talking about. It feels like he’s laughing at me, though. I fold my arms across my chest. “What? What don’t you believe?”
His fist comes off his forehead and he grabs the front of his shirt and pulls it out at me. “I’m wearing a blue shirt.”
I shrug. “Yeah. So?”
He shakes his head. “I’m your date.”
I look at him like he’s crazy. I think all this dating stuff has caused him to drop a few marbles along the way. “What? No. You’re not my date. My date’s name is Brian something-or-other.” The site only gives first names, but that seemed like enough at the time.
“You picked the guy you said was my twin, didn’t you?”
Now I’m embarrassed all over again. He knows! He knows I’m crushing on him! I need to try to play this off. “What are you talking about?” Yes, this is my plan. I’m going to play stupid and see how far it gets me.
“You picked the guy, who you said was my twin, to go out with. That was me.” He points at his chest.
The picture he’s trying to paint for me is beginning to come in clearer. “What are you saying? Do you have two profiles on that website?”
Now it’s Dev’s turn to look embarrassed. “Yes,” he says reluctantly.
Now I’m not just confused, I’m also annoyed. “Why? Why would you do that?” I’m trying to figure out if he set this up as some elaborate trap to catch me looking like a fool. But as soon as that thought enters my mind, it leaves. No one is that clever, first of all, and second of all, he’s not mean like that.
He looks up at the night sky and then down at his feet. He’s rocking back and forth from his heels to his toes when he finally answers. “I might have been a little bit concerned that nobody would want to date a guy with no hair who’s so tall he looks like he should be in the circus.”
If he’d given me any other excuse, or maybe if I were a different person with fewer scars on my soul, I might be mad at him for the trickery; but my heart goes out to him. He always seems so confident and sure of himself, it never crossed my mind that he might be self-conscious about his condition.
I look him in the eye so he’ll see that I mean what I say. “That’s ridiculous. Why would anybody care about that?”
He lifts a non-brow at me. “Are you serious? Have you been out in the world lately?”
I let out a long sigh. He’s right. People are completely materialistic and focused on looks in our world. Hell, I looked at the photos on the website, and I picked a guy based not just on his personality but on how handsome his picture was.