Page 13 of The TV Show Rival
She texted Amy a dozen times, called even more, only to receive a text at 2 am the next day saying her “aunt’s llama had an emergency and would reschedule soon.” Seriously? Soon never came anyways.
Then came the whole birthday fiasco. Jamie spent ages planning a surprise party for her, complete with a scavenger hunt leading to her favorite bakery for a custom cake. She even wrangled her closest friends to keep it under wraps.
The big day arrived, and she practically vibrated with excitement all day, waiting for her reaction. Finally, the clock struck 8 PM, the designated party time. She texted the first clue, heart pounding in her chest... crickets.
Nothing. An hour later, still nothing. By the time her friends started dropping disappointed goodbyes, a cold dread had settled in her stomach. Turns out, Amy was at some random concert, completely forgetting about their plans (or so she claimed).
And then there was the “work conference” that kept Amy away for three straight days, her replies to Jamie’s texts were a curt “busy” followed by radio silence. By day three, Jamie was pretty sure she was dating a secret agent with a penchant for disappearing acts.
But tonight, Amy swore she was all hers. No emergencies, no conferences, just them. Maybe this time would be different.
Pushing those anxieties aside, Jamie focused on the positive. Amy had a way of sweeping her off her feet when she was around. Her laugh was infectious, her smile could melt glaciers, and those eyes... Okay, Jamie, focus! She didn’t want to appear desperate.
Chewing her lip, she ran the brush once more through her hair, she thought maybe tonight, Amy would actually show up, be present, and this rollercoaster of a relationship would finally find its tracks.
Taking a deep breath, she snagged her purse and headed out the door, hoping this date wasn’t another rendezvous with Amy’s invisibility cloak.
Pushing open the restaurant door, a wave of warm light and enticing aromas welcomed Jamie.
She scanned the room, searching for a head of familiar cropped cut auburn hair. And there she was. Amy sat tucked away in a corner booth, her brow furrowed in concentration as she studied the menu.
A surprised laugh escaped her lips. This was new. She glanced down at her watch: 7:50 PM. Amy was ten minutes early? Was this some kind of alternate universe? Usually, she was the one left fuming at the bar while Amy’s “traffic nightmare” or “sudden work meeting” stretched on for hours.
Shaking off the remnants of past frustrations, she approached the table with a wide smile. However, she couldn’t help but admire the way the soft lighting played over Amy’s features, highlighting the sharp angles of her jawline and the flecks of gold that danced within her hazel eyes.
Amy was a striking woman, her wiry frame belying a strength Jamie could sense radiating from her. Her signature jade ring, a chunky cabochon carved with swirling green veins, gleamed on her middle finger, the only piece of jewelry interrupting the casual elegance of her outfit. Ripped jeans, the perfect shade of worn-in denim, hugged her toned legs, while an oversized white blouse hung loosely over a fitted black tank top, hinting at the powerful muscles sculpted beneath.
Amy’s head snapped up, then, a genuine smile bloomed on her face.
“Jamie!” She rose for a hug, the familiar scent of her vanilla perfume filling her senses. A quick peck on the cheek, and she slid into the seat opposite her.
“Wow, you’re actually early,” Jamie blurted out before she could filter her thoughts. “That’s a first.”
“Well, I was already in the neighborhood, so I figured I’d drop in early,” Amy explained casually.
“In the neighborhood, huh?” Her eyebrow quirked up.
The part of her that had been burned before couldn’t help but dissect Amy’s words. Wouldn’t missed you and wanted to see you have been a more natural response?
It felt like maybe this date wasn’t a pre-planned event on Amy’s calendar, a night she’d been eagerly anticipating. Perhaps it was a spur-of-the-moment decision, and their meeting was a matter of convenience, not genuine desire.
The thought stung a little, a flicker of doubt threatening to cloud the joy of seeing Amy. But she pushed it down, forcing a smile. Tonight, she chose to believe in the possibility of a genuine date, a night where missed connections and last-minute cancellations were a thing of the past.
“Well, I’m glad you did. It’s good to see you, Amy.”
The waiter was a young man, impeccably dressed in a crisp, white shirt and black trousers. His posture was upright, and his dark hair was neatly styled. His brown eyes sparkled with a friendly warmth as he approached their table.
Amy confidently rattled off her order, a gourmet salad with a vinaigrette dressing. When it was Jamie’s turn, she scanned the menu, then finally pointed to a dish that sounded appealing—a hearty pasta primavera with a creamy pesto sauce.
“You sure about that?” Amy wrinkled her nose, a hint of something unsettling crossing her features.
Jamie bristled a little. “Yeah, I’m sure. I love pesto.”
“But the smell. It can be disgusting. Have you considered the seared scallops with lemon risotto? Much lighter, and the presentation is divine.”
Before she could voice her protest, Amy leaned across the table, a saccharine smile plastered on her face.
“Why don’t I just order that for you? I can’t stand the smell of strong-flavored dishes.”