My watch read 6:23. My date was already 23 minutes late. I tried to push the paranoia to the back of my mind to no avail.
I’m getting stood up.
I sighed and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. I curled it for nothing.
I looked around. The restaurant was full of people, mostly couples and some groups of friends. I wondered if they noticed me sitting alone for an amount of time just reaching an acceptable threshold.
6:24. I decided to give him 6 more minutes, then I’d leave. That’s when they might notice the girl sitting by herself at a table on her phone; dark hair curled to rest perfectly on her shoulders, make up done for the first time in a month, and a pretty casual blue dress.
I’d never been in that situation. I’d also never seen anyone get stood up. I wondered if it happened and I just never noticed. The thought made me feel better, and I usually blended into corners well. The point was, I didn’t want anyone to notice Amy Wicker getting stood up.
Someone walked towards my table. My heart skipped a beat- he showed up! Maybe I hadn’t picked a bad one. But to my dismay, when I looked up, it was not him.
I averted my eyes. I hoped the stranger didn’t notice, but before I knew it someone sat down across from me. He was tall with somber green eyes and brown hair that was a little overdue for a cut.
My heart sank. Someone noticed.
“Hi.” The stranger smiled.
I smiled back.
“My name is John, what’s yours?” He grabbed a napkin and scribbled something on it. He slid it across the table to me.
“Amy…” I looked at the napkin.
Someone in this restaurant is watching me. I need your help. Will you come with me?
I nodded. He didn’t look like a criminal. I mean, f*** it, right? I got stood up.
John stood up and held out his hand. I looked at my watch- 6:30, time to go. I took his hand and followed his lead out the front door.
The parking lot was dark. The only light was from the full moon, most of the street lights seemed to be out.
“Why did you need me?”
” I didn’t. You looked like you needed me, and I could use a friend.” John shrugged.
“You aren’t a criminal, right?” I asked, briefly questioning my decision, not that I could turn back.
“No,” he laughed, ” I was an experiment.” John let go of my hand and turned around. He pulled up his shirt to reveal an intricate tattoo on his back and too many scars to count. His body tensed and the tattoo glowed electric blue. John turned back and his eyes matched the blue of his tattoo. He held out his hand again. “Do you trust me?”
“I guess so,” I said. I grabbed his hand. He squeezed it tight and it felt like my soul left out of my body and evaporated.
I landed back on the ground and staggered. We were no longer in the small town of Dansville. It was much more congested, and there was a large ferris wheel in front of us.
“You can teleport.” I looked at him in awe. “Where are we?”
“London, ever been?”