I wrote the following scene for a writer’s prompt this week AND as a Valentine’s Day gift for my spouse. If you’re a writer, might I suggest doing something similar for that special someone in your life? It took me all of twenty minutes, and two hours later my husband still has a goofy smile on his face from reading it.
Love at First Sight
“He’s lonely,” Trish says to me over the phone. “He’s only in town for a few days. His oldest daughter is getting into trouble at high school, his ex-wife won’t deal with it, and he could use a night out, away from all the drama.”
“What’s he like?” I ask.
“Funny,” she answers, without needing to think about it. “Quick. Honest. Open-minded, a modern gentleman. Nice-looking, but not movie-star gorgeous—he won’t intimidate you. His sense of humor’s a lot like yours, so I thought you guys might hit it off.”
“I’m not really looking to get into anything right now,” I say. It’s been seven months since my divorce finalized and I’m enjoying the single life.
“He’ll take your lead for how you want to treat the date – he’ll be fine with it if all you want to be is his buddy.” Trish’s voice is cheerful over the line. “We dated for about six months before he moved to Maine, and we’re still friends. He’ll treat you right.”
“So what’s the downside?” I ask. If the guy had been that perfect Trish would have kept him for herself.
“Well….he’s older.”
“How old are we talking?” I’m twenty-six; my ex was four years older for all he acted like a sullen teenager. Maybe older would be a nice change.
“Um…he’s forty-eight.”
Twenty-two years my senior? God, that wasn’t much younger than my Dad. “Jeez, Trish, that’s a little out of my range!”
“I really think you guys would get along. Just one date, come on!”
“No date,” I say decisively. “But tell him I like to shoot pool and if he does too, I’ll meet him at Big John’s for a couple of games to get him away from the crazy family.”
It’ll be like playing pool with my Dad, I figure a few nights later as I walk into Big John’s. The jukebox is playing Joan Jett, which I love, and I start humming ‘I Love Rock n’ Roll’ as I scan the people at the tables for my pool playing buddy for the night.
There’s a guy racking up alone at one of the tables near the bar; could be him. His back is to me, in a blue knit long-sleeved shirt and faded blue jeans that, I can’t help but notice, fit quite nicely to his slim build.
He straightens up and turns around, catches sight of me. Bright blue eyes widen a little behind rimless glasses. He looks a whole lot like Sean Connery in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, right down to the mostly bald head with the fringe of silver hair and the neatly trimmed mustache and goatee.
As it happens, I thought Sean Connery was pretty cute in that movie. This guy is cute too, especially when he gives me a warm smile that reveals a dimple in his right cheek.
“Are you Holly?” he asks, blue eyes twinkling.
“Which means you must be Rich,” I answer, smiling back and trying to hide the fact that I’m blushing. That smile…wow.
“Well, this is never going to work,” he declares, sighing in mock sadness as I join him at the pool table and pick up a cue.
I tilt my head and arch my brows at him. “Oh no?”
He shakes his head, face solemn but eyes dancing, dancing as they look me over. “Nope. You’re wayyy too pretty for an old geezer like me.”
The blush goes all the way past my hairline, and I fall in love.
Ten years later, we still play pool on our anniversary.
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There may be something sweeter than that.
But I seriously doubt it.