Number 5

By the 4th or 5th time Eva slid a thumb down her iPhone screen, nervous sweat left a trail of magnified pixels over her Outlook inbox as it refreshed. Another blurry male figure entered her peripheral vision, drawing her eyes from her phone past a hissing La Marzocco Linea to the open glass doors of Sightglass Coffee, again turning out not to be her date. Two days earlier, Alex, who she was expecting, had picked out the industrial-chic designed two-story café as the spot for their first date, and she had since been anticipating it with an unusual sense of optimism that manifested in behavioral symptoms her therapist might have labeled anxiety. It was her fifth first date in six months and the first that showed any real potential of living up to the exhaustive list of traits for an ideal partner she had rattled off to Mia, her best friend who suggested she try this new dating app, HeartSync.

It wasn’t unusual for an exhausted Mia to throw a monkey wrench into the high-speed gears of Eva’s overthinking mind in the form of a spontaneous idea, often preceded by her favorite exclamations: “Jesus fucking Christ” or “for the love of fuck,” Eva’s personal favorite. Mia and Eva’s favorite late-night topic had been their respective love lives ever since Mia confided in Eva about the against-company-policy love affair she was having with one of the executives at QuantiFI, the fintech company where they first became friends six years ago.

Eva’s first project as an analyst was to interpret user data to provide insights for the brand activation team, led by Mia, to use in their marketing strategies. Mia commanded their bi-weekly meetings with a gentle assertiveness, capturing the attention of all male attendees, while Eva struggled to get an intern to read her wordy late-afternoon emails. Mia quickly latched onto Eva like a feminine buoy in a sea of testosterone, grateful to finally have another woman to talk about anything other than fantasy football or intermittent fasting. She started cornering Eva for lunches and coffee breaks until her social firewalls relented and the two became close.

Alex’s avatar appeared on Eva’s iPhone screen with a buzz. “Just parked,” read the message. Eva set her phone face up on the oak table and grasped a ceramic mug between her hands, her fingers interlaced showing off a nude square nail manicure. She raised the mug to her glossed lips, scanning the café through the steam from her cappuccino. Around her, software engineers tapped away at MacBook keyboards, hypnotized by colorful functions and methods sprawled across VS Code. Hip baristas with elaborate facial hair fussed with the stainless steel boilers, occasionally shouting drink orders that echoed off the exposed brick walls and into the high ceilings.

Eva’s gaze stayed fixed on an infinite scroll of skin care ads and female corporate leadership influencers while her attention was on the blurry 6’2 figure scanning the cafe just beyond the front doors. Just as the figure took his 3rd step towards her table she looked up