Beginning Together

She is so out of my league, I think, scrolling through her Bumble profile for the third time since we matched. I'm a novice dating app user - usually I open it up and swipe left or right when I'm bored, only making a handful of matches that never go anywhere. But this one? This one was like the Dating App God and Goddess were both smiling down on me, giving me exactly what I've been looking for in a relationship.

My bad luck stems from the fact that people my age seem to enjoy just looking for fun, casual flings. As an old soul, I feel like I've been looking for different things than the majority for my entire life. I want to find someone I can truly connect with, someone who can be my best friend and I theirs, someone with similar interests... the list sort of goes on, and I'm pretty specific in my bio so people know right off the bat what I'm looking for. Although usually it feels like those things are largely ignored - who reads long bios, anyway? ...Well, I do - I put them there still, to hopefully narrow down my matches.

This beautiful woman I matched with has a surprisingly similar bio, just written in a few less words. My heart is pounding awfully hard in my chest, just looking at her pictures.

Its speed kicks up a notch as my phone vibrates in my hand.

I go to the messages section of the app, and my heart decides to elevate from my chest to my throat. She messaged me first? Oh my God! I open the message with a shaky thumb. My other hand subconsciously tightens around the glass on the bar top in front of me and I remember I have it in the first place. I blindly bring it closer, nearly jabbing my cheek with the straw, and take a generous sip of the mixed drink. Liquid courage, right?

The message reads: Hi! How are you this evening? Followed by a smiley face.

I take a deep breath and hold the phone in both of my hands. Hi, I'm good. How are you? Debating a few seconds, I press send and instantly lock my phone, putting it face down on the bar. I suck down a few more gulps of my drink, and my phone vibrates again.

I'm good. Thinking about running down to Marsha's for a drink or two, would you like to join me, beautiful?

I nearly choke on my drink. Clearing my throat, I glance behind me. The small town I call home has one popular bar - well, more like one bar, period - and, fortunately, it isn't too busy tonight. Meaning there's a smaller chance of me running in to someone I know and making a fool of myself in front of them and a beautiful woman. I glance back down at my phone and smile nervously. What a coincidence, I'm actually already at Marsha's! I'd love to have a drink with you. I hesitate a moment and add a smiley face before sending.

Before I can lock my phone again, three dots pop up by her name. In another handful of seconds I have a response. Perfect! I'll see you in a minute.

Oh, God, what have I done? I think. It isn't exactly like me to meet up with a match so soon; my anxiety likes to tell me it's much safer to milk the initial "getting to know each other over text" phase for as long as possible. I'm not sure if it's because I'm worried about meeting them and being disappointed, or worried about meeting them and falling head over heels. Either way, it's just safer to maintain the distance granted by text, so I don't have to worry about those things until I feel ready for it - or until the person I match with just stops responding, which does seem to be the usual trend for me.

With this particular match it feels like a very real concern that I might actually fall head over heels in love. Yes, she's attractive in her pictures, but seeing someone in person is different, and none of it really mattered. It was what she said in her bio that got my attention. She's looking for the same things I am. And she said she's a journalist, and I do a lot of writing in my spare time, so I'm excited about that. Maybe I can actually make a connection with her, and that's scary in its own way.

I glance repeatedly at my watch, finishing off my drink and watching the minutes tick by. After six I hear the door open - for some reason, no matter how many times the hinges are greased, it's always been very creaky - and I turn towards it. Instantly feel my cheeks heat up as my heart makes its way to my throat again. I manage a smile the same second her eyes meet mine, and she grins, raising her hand in a wave. She crosses the room and sits on the barstool next to me; I angle my body towards hers, and our knees bump.

"Hi," she says, voice smooth and a bit raspy. "I'm Sarah."

I offer my hand and hope it isn't too obvious it's shaking so much. "Stevie. Nice to meet you. Can I get you something to drink?" I ask, stuttering just a little. I can feel the heat in my cheeks increasing. Hopefully she can't see it very well.

Her brown eyes glance down at my empty glass. "What are you having?"

"Uh - a mojito," I say.

"Would you like another?"

"What are you having?"

"I was thinking a glass of Merlot, actually." Her eyes sparkle and the corners of her mouth lift in a beaming, toothy grin. "I'm feeling fancy tonight," she laughs.

I return the grin. "Then I'll have one, too."

She easily catches the bartender's eye. "Two glasses of Merlot, please."

The bartender places our glasses in front of us. Sarah picks hers up and swirls the pleasantly dark red liquid, waggling her eyebrows playfully. I laugh lightly, picking mine up. "Cheers," she giggles. Our glasses clink and we both sip. "I'm sorry, I should have asked this first - are you a wine drinker?" she asks.

"I definitely like it more than beer, but I don't have it very often, either," I say, shrugging. "Is it your usual choice?"

"My go-to is tequila," she says, and I feel myself grinning. She instantly mirrors it, gently biting down on the tip of her tongue. "But I thought maybe shots would be too much for a first date. Unless you'd like to?"

"Oh, no, thank you," I laugh. "From experience I know it won't be fun to work tomorrow with a hangover. Then again, what is fun to do with a hangover?"

Her grin increases a notch. "Your bio says you're the coroner?" she says, and I nod. "I've definitely heard your name before. Even though I've only lived here a few months."

"Do you like it here?" I ask.

She takes a sip of her wine. "I do," she says. "It's just a lot smaller than I'm used to."

"How long have you been a journalist?"

"About thirteen years. I started in a big Seattle office. I moved here because I really needed a change, and I wanted to get away from the city - and, actually, all the other big cities I've ever lived in. This place seems perfect for that."

"It is a bit of an escape." I nod, mostly to myself, taking a sip of my wine as well. "I know small town culture can be a little weird sometimes, though, so if you ever need just... just a friend, or anything, I-I'm around. Not that I think you don't have any friends you can talk to or hang out with, I-I just meant-"

"I understand," Sarah interrupts me, tone gentle. I'm noticing she has the slightest hint of a lisp, adding to the rapidly piling reasons I like her. "That would be really nice, actually. Right now the only person I really know is Nathan."

"I know him and Allyson pretty well," I say, glancing down at the perfectly red wine. "I've gotten a few things published through them... just small stuff. Probably nothing as cool as what you've written - they've both mentioned you before, actually, and how much investigative journalism experience you have, stuff like that. I feel like that's something we really need here."

"Oh, I'm not that cool," Sarah sort of scoffs, pulling a grimace although her grin stays consistent. "I'd love to read some of your work, though. I bet your job as the coroner gives you plenty of material."

I shrug again. "Writing does help me process a lot of what I feel, both from work and outside it," I murmur.

Sarah's expression softens. "I can't imagine what it must be like."

"In a small area like this it's definitely hard not to know pretty much everyone I work on," I sigh. "But that's okay. Death is a very natural thing, and I do what I can to help the people still living get through it when they lose someone they love."

Pursing her lips, Sarah nods, gaze flitting downwards. It looks like she might be faintly blushing - I'm not entirely sure. She clears her throat, but her voice still cracks when she asks, "May I hold your hand?"

I know I'm definitely blushing, noticeably, now. "Of course," I stammer, smiling.

She reaches out and takes my hand. I can just barely tell hers is shaking before our fingers interlace together. She smiles, shyly, and turns away the slightest bit as she sips her wine. I do the same. The quiet between us is comfortable. My heart is still pounding, and I'm excited, trying to calm myself down a bit before I do something too fast. After a few moments I turn to face her fully again, and she meets my gaze, smile increasing and brightening. I momentarily forget what I even want to say.

"Are you hungry?" I ask. "There's a spectacular food truck that parks in the library parking lot. Oh, and have you been to the library yet? The building is beautiful inside and out - I don't know anything about architecture, but there's just something really cozy and just... inspiring... about it."

"I haven't been yet," Sarah says, smile morphing into a grin. I easily return it without even thinking. "Food sounds really good, too," she adds in a breath of a laugh.

"Perfect." I swirl the contents of my glass. "Want to finish our drinks and head out?"

"Yes," she says. Her eyes are bright. She leans in a little bit, raising our linked hands between us, and presses a feather-light kiss to the back of mine. I blush twice as hard as I already have been almost the entire time and let out a shy little laugh. "I think this is going really well," she murmurs. "Don't you?"

I grin. "Yes, I do."