The Blind Date by Landish, Lauren (suggested reading .txt) 📕

has half a dozen couples out there dancing. Two of the couples are in full-on retro costumes as well, one looking like a pair of bobby soxers from the fifties while the other looks more Studio 54 in the seventies. It’s a multi-generation dance battle showcase out there, poodle-skirted American Bandstand versus gold lame jumpsuit-wearing Soul Train dancing to Wham!

“Have you ever been here before?” Noah asks, and I shake my head as I lift my brows questioningly. “Me neither. I wasn’t sure I’d like it, but it came highly recommended and was at the top of the list for places to take a date in Briar Rose.”

Delight blooms in my belly. “Did you look up date places?”

I swear on my half-million followers, on my very brand, on my very spirit, that Noah Daniels’s tanned cheeks flush a warm pink. “I don’t date much, and my instincts were to take you somewhere fancy. I know enough to know that wouldn’t impress you, though, and I wanted to do something fun and memorable.”

I lay my hand over his where he hasn’t let me go, his thumb rubbing circles on my skin tantalizingly. “That’s so sweet. Thank you.” I pause and see his eyes tick off to the side and then back to me. “Is it driving you crazy in here?”

He sags, leaning forward to huff out, “Fuck, yes!” He shakes his head. “It’s so disorganized, like a warehouse of memorabilia with no logical, reasonable storage system. There’s eighties lighting, outfits from every decade, sixties photos—” He points to the large, framed poster of Sean Connery as James Bond. “It’s . . . a lot. Does that make me uptight?” he asks with a self-deprecating laugh, repeating what I called him before.

I narrow my eyes, studying him and liking the way he squirms as he awaits my judgment. “Nope, not uptight. What it makes you is in desperate need of a view reframing. You look around and see mismatched decades. What if, instead . . . you chose to frame them as iconic moments in Pop Culture? Change the umbrella you’re organizing under, and it becomes a celebration of forty years, an explosion of amazing things that represent our past, bringing back happy times. Same things around you, but seen through a different lens.”

Noah blinks, and then blinks again, before looking around the room. Nothing in our surroundings has changed, but could my simple words have changed the way he sees them?

“Okay . . . okay, I can kinda see that. A little,” he says slowly.

I wink, pleased at his effort. “It doesn’t happen overnight, but you can change your mindset a little bit at a time. People can learn to relax or learn to be more dedicated, reprogram their inner voice, and see the world around them through a different set of lenses. That’s part of what I do, changing people’s day by infusing positivity and appreciation into their lives. A little sunshine,” I finish, my passion for what I do making me sound a little crazy.

Luckily, a waiter chooses that moment to walk up, and Noah doesn’t have a chance to tell me that I’m naïve about the world. I’ve heard that one before, from him and from lots of other people. They’re the ones I have to work extra-hard to reach.

“Welcome to Big Mike’s. I’m Wayne, and I’ll be your server. What can I get for you tonight?” the man asks. He’s wearing red and white checkered pants, a white button-up shirt, and black suspenders. His black-framed glasses are bold and have no glass in them.

“Hi, Wayne. We’re first-timers here and want the full Big Mike’s experience, so what do you recommend?” I smile warmly.

Wayne looks from me to Noah. “First-timers? I’m happy to pop your Big Mike’s cherry,” he tells us with a grin so bright I almost don’t catch the naughty reference. I look to Noah, who’s fighting a smile of his own. “If you wanna do it right, I recommend the Double-Decker meal. Two Angus patties, two slices of cheddar, all the fixings, plus a basket of fries to share. Don’t worry, there’s plenty of fries.” He holds his hands out like we might be worried there won’t be enough to eat with everything he listed. “And Cokes to wash it all down.”

I close my menu, and without consulting Noah, I tell Wayne, “That. We’ll take that.”

He nods, scribbling on his notepad. “And save room for a cake shake. Ugh, absolutely To. Die. For.” He holds his hand to his heart and confides with a side eye, “Actually, I’ll probably have a heart attack from how many of those things I suck down, but the chocolate cake-chocolate milkshake is my treat to myself.” He makes an obscene sucking sound, and I laugh. After a heartbeat, Noah laughs too. Wayne’s personality and joy are infectious.

“We’ll take one of those too,” Noah tells him, and Wayne nods. When we’re alone again, Noah tells me, “I don’t think I can possibly eat all that and drink a shake on top too, but out of everything that guy just said, I really want to see you suck that shake down.”

Ooh, flirty, sexy man!

“Oh, well after we eat all that, I’m gonna need a workout. I guess . . . sucking . . . will do it.”

Did I just say that? I laugh at myself, feeling heat rush to my cheeks.

I am such an awful flirter! Truly, completely unskilled, and I make a note to rectify that. It’s a skill like any other, and I need to learn, watch some people who are good at it, and practice. Just like I tell people to do.

But Noah doesn’t seem to think I’m bad at flirting. In fact, he seems to be staring rather pointedly at my lips. I lick them nervously, and a pleasant tension builds between us as I wonder if we might skip the burger, fries, and shake and just go back to my place. Or his.

But Noah takes a deep breath and settles back against the booth. “Before Wayne came up, you were telling