Wrong Place, Right Time(37)

“How can I keep you from looking at the photographs?”

I scan the site really quick and point at the screen. “Look. You can choose to browse without photos. That way, there’ll be no cheating.”

“I can deal with that.” He looks very happy with himself.

We’ll see who’s smiling when this is all over. “Ready to go?”

His grin is so big, I’m suddenly very suspicious. “Oh, yeah, no doubt,” he says. “Let’s go. I’m definitely ready to have a delicious free meal. Did I mention I have a big appetite?”

The deal has been struck and the challenge laid down. Unfortunately for him, it will be me enjoying a delicious dinner paid for by him, not the other way around. Ha!

I scroll through the twenty-four choices I’ve been given, making sure to de-select the photo option. Most of the profiles’ one-liners are too corny to have been written by Dev; at least thirty percent of them mention how they like long walks on the beach or reading poetry. Bleck. Dev is way more original than that.

There are actually five double-click possibilities. I chew my lip as I try to decide which three are more likely. I finally eliminate two when I see that they lack the more unique romantic vibe that I think Dev might have inside him. He could have left me in the dust at the warehouse, but his first priority was convincing me to let him play savior. That’s knight-in-shining-armor material right there.

I’m now left with three candidates. The first ad’s one-liner says: ‘Still looking for my favorite person.’ The second ad says: ‘I believe in love at first sight.’ And the third ad says: ‘Take my hand, and we’ll wander off somewhere together.’ I delete all but those three candidates from the screen and swivel my chair sideways to face Dev. “Okay, I’m almost there. One of these is you.”

“You think so?”

A sliver of doubt slides through me when I see the look on his face. But I ignore it, because I know I can’t lose in this game. Either he pays or I do, but we’re going out to dinner together.

I turn so my back is to my computer. “Go ahead and click on the first one and make sure there’re no profile pictures showing. I don’t want to see a picture of your face and be accused of cheating.”

He picks up his chair and moves it closer to the desk. “You mean you don’t want to see a photograph of some dude that’s not me.”

“Whatever.”

I put my hands over my eyes and inhale when he leans in close to me. I can smell his laundry soap, or maybe his cologne. It’s very sexy, and way too tempting. I make myself stop breathing so that I don’t get mesmerized and say something stupid. The sound of my mouse clicking comes, and then the smell of Dev disappears. I can breathe again, but it’s not nearly as much fun.

“Okay. You’re on the Read More page and there’s no photograph.”

I open my eyes and move my hands away so that I can turn around and read what’s on the computer screen. There’s a long paragraph written by a mystery man who’s looking for love. He’s describing the perfect date. It could be Dev, but then again, I’m not sure. I need to withhold my decision until I’ve read them all.

After I’ve absorbed everything there, I turn and cover my eyes again. Dev does his part of the deal by selecting the next profile and verifying there’s no photo. He probably doesn’t need to do that anymore, but I love having him move in close.

I turn around at his signal and quickly scan the page, knowing within seconds that this one is not him. “You can delete this one. This one isn’t you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Don’t try to throw me off the scent. I’m sure.”

“Okay,” he says. “If you say so.”

The third and final candidate is now on my screen with a big question mark where his profile photo would be if I hadn’t de-selected that option. This one and the first one are so close, I almost can’t tell them apart.

“This is really tough.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because. These two guys are like the same person.”

“I don’t see it.” He leans in and squints at the screen like he’s trying to glean a deeper meaning from it just by getting closer.

I point at the second paragraph. “Look. Both of them say that they are looking for a woman with an adventurous spirit and a certain je ne sais quoi.” I snort. “Who says that?”

“We live in New Orleans,” he says. “You can expect to see a little fancy French once in a while.”

“Not from a guy. Not like this.”