Island Kisses

“Hey, I'm on my way,” I told my sister over the phone as I started the car engine. My ancient little Pontiac purred to life and I thanked my lucky stars. Some days she decided to drive like a dream, and on other days she was hell on wheels. Today would have been a terrible day for her not to start. There was no way I was walking back into that restaurant to get a jump start.“How was the date?” Rosie asked.“Awful,” I said, pulling out onto the main road. “It'll be great for readers. I really think they're going to eat this one up.”I could hear her moving around on her end of the phone. “You're the only person I know who gets more excited about bad dates than good ones,” she replied.“Are you moving stuff around again?” I asked, ignoring her statement.“No,” she answered defensively before sighing. “Yes. Fine. I'm moving the crib to the other side of the room. I think the draft from the window will make him cold.”I couldn't help but smile. She was so excited for her first-born child

“And so it is, Mr. Bathroom shall be forever memorialized for his unique ability to use a toilet as refuge from paying the bill. Ladies be warned; if you get picked up by a guy whose meal costs more than what he pays for rent, abort mission. Flee the scene. Leave before he comes back from hiding. At least today we know he gets to go back home to his mommy- let’s just all hope she preps him a little more before his next date.”My arms fell from the keyboard as I allowed them a momentary rest. This was going to make for a great post, I could already tell. Posts like these came effortlessly with the most challenging part being accurately recalling the extent of the disaster. Every little detail was required to paint the full picture of what I had dealt with, and my readers ate it up.As I was doing a final skim over the passage for any typos or grammatical errors, my phone buzzed obnoxiously on the table. I was usually good about not allowing my phone to distract me in the middle of writ

The computer screen glowed against the backdrop of the oncoming evening. The dark blue of the sky as night felt was soft and comforting like a blanket around a child. It was another warm night in Miami and the intense heat of the day had mellowed into a pleasant temperature and the humidity was actually comfortable. On a normal night, my computer screen became the only light in the room and I used it to get lost in my blog.However, this evening was different. On this particular evening I needed to research and make sure I was prepared for my date. I had gone deep into the conversation that my sister had begun. I was like a student studying over a textbook before a big test; I knew their conversation held valuable information, it was a matter of trying to dissect it and uncover his personality.The mask that Rosie had assumed while trying to imitate me was hilarious. I had already scanned their conversation several times and had paused frequently to laugh out loud. She either had no i

“What would you like to eat?” he asked, as the waiter approached us.I hadn’t even looked at the menu. I had been too into our conversation.“Um, I’ll just take an appetizer,” I said, glancing at the menu. I picked the cheapest thing I could find. “Maybe grilled asparagus or something.”“Harper, order whatever you like,” Gabe urged, though he didn’t specifically say that he’d be picking up the tab.“I’d rather have something light, though. I’m not super hungry.” I flashed him a grin. It wasn't a lie: butterflies had begun to flow inside of me, which had put my appetite in check.What is this guy doing to me? I wondered. I was pretty sure that my blog had killed all the first date jitters, but apparently not.I stuck with the grilled asparagus appetizer and Gabe got a 10-ounce filet mignon. The waiter took our orders and disappeared around the corner. Gabe sipped his martini before fixing me with his piercing green eyes. It was impossible to not feel like the center of the universe whe

This is just writer’s block, right? I mean, surely there was something about last night’s date with Gabe that went terribly. There must be something for me to write about...I sat in my office chair, staring at the blank screen of the word processing program in front of me. I had been gazing at it for half an hour, trying to brainstorm what to write for the upcoming blog post. The problem, though, was that I ran a website that people visited to hear about my bad dates, not the good ones. There wasn’t anything interesting about a good date, or at least anything that my current readers would want to hear. They wanted the ridiculous details. They wanted the men who didn’t pay for dinner and the ones who wore sweat pants to their first date. They didn’t want to read about the charming, good-looking, gentlemanly Gabe.I pressed my fingers against my cheek where he had kissed me. I could still feel the soft touch of his lips, and I could just imagine what they would feel like on mine. I wan