You're Missing Out, Cheater

The café buzzes around me—laughter, the clinking of plates, whispers that are just loud enough to be heard.

Eyes are on me, like always, but I’ve mastered the art of pretending not to notice. They watch, they whisper, but none of them know me.

I look at the expensive watch on my wrist. That Marcus is already five minutes late. How dare he make me wait!

“If he doesn’t show up in a minute, I’ll leave.” I whispered to myself.

If it wasn’t just my father wanting me to try to date that guy who is his business partner’s son, I wouldn’t be here.

The door chimes, and I glance up just in time to see Marcus approaching. He’s handsome, I’ll give him that. Tall, sharp features, and dressed in a formal attire. He looks like he’s stepped out of a high-end magazine, exactly the type my parents would approve of.

But as soon as he sits down, I can feel the weight of his arrogance pressing on me. His smile is too easy, too practiced, and I already know how this is going to go.

“Amber, right?” Marcus says, flashing a grin that’s all teeth. He’s wearing a suit that probably costs more than an average car, and he carries himself like he knows exactly how good he looks.

The confidence radiates off him like cheap cologne.

I offer him a polite smile, the kind I’ve perfected over the years… charming but distant.

“Yes. And you must be Marcus.”

His grin widens, and he nods eagerly, as if my remembering his name somehow validates his entire existence.

“That’s right! You know I’ve been looking forward to this. I mean, how often does one get to meet the Amber Acosta?”

Here we go, I think to myself.

I brace for the usual flattery, and sure enough, it comes pouring out of him like water from a broken faucet.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Marcus continues, leaning back in his chair with a self-satisfied air. “Your family is a powerhouse in the industry, and I’ve always admired how you’ve managed to stay under the radar despite all the media attention. It’s refreshing to see someone who isn’t constantly chasing the spotlight.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Complimenting my “modesty” while simultaneously name-dropping my family’s influence? Classic.

“Thank you,” I replied smoothly, giving him another practiced smile. “I appreciate that.”

Without waiting for a proper segue, he launches into a self-promotional monologue.

“You know, I’ve been doing quite a bit of traveling lately. Just got back from Dubai last week and there was this incredible tech conference there. You wouldn’t believe the connections I made. Oh, and last month, I was in Monaco. We were discussing this new venture I’m involved in…an app that connects high-net-worth individuals with exclusive luxury services. It’s still in beta, but we’re already seeing insane demand.”

He pauses just long enough to take a sip of his overpriced coffee, clearly waiting for me to react.

I nod, making the appropriate noises “Oh, really?” and “That sounds fascinating”—but internally, I’m already counting down the minutes until this is over.

“You should have seen the event in Dubai,” he continues, oblivious to my lack of engagement. “We had CEOs from all the major tech companies there… like your father! We’re in talks about a potential partnership.”

“Wow, sounds exciting,” I say, keeping my tone neutral. I glance at my watch discreetly, hoping he doesn’t notice. I still have another date after this one, and the idea of going through another round of this is exhausting.

“Oh, it is,” Marcus says.

I tune him out again as he lists off his upcoming travels. My mind drifts to other things—whether I’ve confirmed the details for Freesia’s birthday party, what color I should go with for my next manicure, whether I should order dessert just to prolong the time before the next disaster of a date arrives.

“…and that’s when I realized, there’s no ceiling. The only limits are the ones you set for yourself, right?”

I blink, bringing my focus back to him just in time to catch the end of whatever motivational speech he’s been saying.

He’s looking at me expectantly, as if he’s just dropped a life-changing nugget of wisdom.

“Right,” I agree, though I’m not sure what I’m agreeing to. “No limits.”

He beams, clearly pleased with himself. “Exactly. You get it. That’s why I think we could make a great couple, Amber. I see a lot of potential here.”

I nearly choke on my espresso. “Potential?”

“For us,” he clarifies, leaning in slightly. “Together. We’d be… unstoppable!”

Oh my gosh. Pathetic.

I take a deep breath, forcing a calm expression even though I want to laugh. This is exactly what I’ve been dreading. Another man who sees me not as a person, but as an opportunity. A stepping stone to his next big win.

I let him go on for a few more minutes before I decided to put an end to it.

“Marcus,” I say, leaning forward just a little, enough to make him feel like I’m really interested, “You seem like a great guy. But I don’t think this is going to work.”

He blinks, clearly caught off guard. “Wait, are you serious? But we just started—”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone who appreciates everything you have to offer,” I say, cutting him off with a finality that even he can’t miss. “But that person isn’t me.”

I nod, watching as he stands and adjusts his suit jacket. With one last awkward smile, he walks away, leaving me alone at the table once more.

I sigh and take another sip of my espresso.

One down, two more to go. And with my luck, they’ll all be just like Marcus.

The second one arrives not long after, and I can already tell this is going to be another disaster. He’s younger, eager, and bursting with excitement over the latest tech trends.

I try to keep up, nodding along as he throws out terms, but my patience is wearing thin.

When he starts comparing relationships to startups and investments, I have to stop him.

“Andrew,” I say, holding up a hand, “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I think we’re done here.”

He looks confused, like he’s trying to figure out where he went wrong. But I don’t have the energy to explain.

He leaves, reluctantly, and I’m left alone again.

By the time the third suitor arrives, I’m ready to call it quits. He’s persistent, won’t take no for an answer, and I have to be blunt, something I’m not used to doing in public.

He leaves in a huff, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

“Oh my god, this is so draining. I just wanted to pick my flavor of the week, why is it so hard for them to be interesting?!”

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the frustration bubbling inside me. My family means well, but this… this is exhausting.

They think they’re helping, setting me up with these men, but they don’t understand. I don’t need someone to complete me.

I reach for my cup, but before I take another sip, something catches my eye.

Or rather, someone.

He’s sitting in the corner of the café, half-hidden by a newspaper. But I know he’s been watching me. I can feel it.

Our eyes meet, and for the first time today, I feel… exposed. He’s not like the others. There’s no fawning, no eager smiles or attempts to impress.

Just cold, calculating eyes that seem to see right through me.

I’m intrigued, and I hate that I am.

I offer him a small, tentative smile—one that usually works on men—but he doesn’t react.

Instead, he folds his newspaper, stands up, and walks out without so much as a glance back at me.

For a moment, I just sat there, staring at the door he walked through.

Rejected.

The word tastes foreign in my mouth. I’ve been rejecting men all day, but now, for the first time, I’ve been rejected.

Not with words, but with silence. And it stings more than I expected.

Who is he? And why do I care?