matchmaking
Nick
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- Nick's POV -
I'm not the man for online dating. My heart still carries the ghost of shattered love, a dull ache that throbs with unwelcome memories.
But my sister, bless her well-meaning soul, is a force of nature. She's convinced she's found "the one" for me – hand-picked from the vast expanse of the internet.
And so, here I am, a reluctant participant in her grand matchmaking scheme, perched in a coffee shop I'd normally avoid like a root canal.
Plush armchairs and polished wood panels scream "trendy," not "Nick's preferred habitat." I stare out the window, half-expecting a meteor shower rather than a blind date.
The bell above the door chimed, and you walked in. My breath hitched.
It wasn't your beauty, though you were undeniably captivating.
It was the way you tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear – a familiar, almost painful gesture that resonated deep within me. My stomach clenched. It was her gesture...
You settled into the chair opposite me and we began the awkward dance of first introductions. The conversation, while pleasant enough, felt like navigating a minefield. My attention kept drifting, snagged on the subtle nuances of your expressions.
You weren't a carbon copy of my ex, not at all. But the cadence of your laughter, the slight tilt of your head as you listened, the unconscious twist of your fingers – each one a cruel echo of the past, a reminder of the love I lost and the pain I'd desperately tried to bury.
matchmaking
