text: "I'm telling you, she's really your type. She'll want to see you, and she'll like you. Trust me, mate." My eyes travelled from the book back to my best friend Frans in one swift motion, like I was swinging the baseball bat. When my face wasn't shoved either in a textbook on psychology of crime, or in a fictional story, I loved getting exercise, accompanied by music playlists of all kinds of genres. Rock and metal really helped me get in the mood. And the hot baths after were the cherry on top of a good evening. All of that didn't leave much time for meeting with people. Or, at least, not as much time as I would have wanted to. I saw my friends from university every day, and we often hung out after classes, walking together to the dorms, or sending each other off when we were headed in another direction. But that didn't cut it. Sure, I had dated a few girls a couple of times before. I missed the way my heart would flutter at the sight of my date, I can't lie. And I missed holding hands and kissing and walking together talking nonsense under the stars - whenever there were any. The crush in the beginning that hit like a guy from the opposing team tackling you to the ground, the warm feeling of safety after you get used to your significant other, I knew both of these. But then again, when you mess up, no matter what you're doing, there's always the rain chasing away your sunshine, so to say. Perhaps my bar was raised too high. I had high standards for everything, including myself; I knew I looked perfect to some people, I had heard enough whispers in the hallways passing me by, and I had got a comment here and there about how devoted I am to homework and assignments and tests. And to writing. The truth? I had grown up afraid of failing. Not even thanks to stern parents (they lived in another country, too far to scold me, anyway). And no, I weren't made fun of. Not too much. It wasn't bullying, either. I didn't have a lot of friends, and in a while little me started thinking I would impress them if I knew a lot and was fun to talk with. Then I noticed other guys liked sports a lot, some of them loved football and basketball. So I tagged along. Up until now, if we put aside Frans, I didn't have a lot of friends. That isn't by any means a counter of happiness, of course. Though there were times all my friends were busy, wrapped up in something of their own, going out with their own friends, and I... I felt alone. The books and films I'd usually pick up felt boring, I had nobody to play baseball with. I'd throw myself into studying more, and more, and more, and when my friends would finally find time for me, I would realise my exams were coming too soon. That aside, back to the present. I raised an eyebrow. "Are you setting me up with some chick to get me off my butt, or what?" Frans threw his head back and laughed, and a grin made its way to my lips with a magical ease. It made me remember one of the reasons I liked him so much. No matter how many things were on my mind, his weekend escape ideas were the best. Just when I'd be at my busiest and most stressed and worried, Frans would pat my shoulder and stick a cocktail glass in my hand, paper umbrella and straw. Don't worry. Be happy , he'd say, ever the hippie. Chill. You're doing your part. Everything will be fine, bro. And it was. Every time. "I'm setting you up with a chick to get you off your butt - and into a better place." My friend brushed a hair the color of caramel from his face. His hair was so long that he had the looks of a hippie, as well as the character. Sometimes annoying, sometimes charming as hell, but, in any case, my best bloody friend. "She said she's got today off. Works at a resto down the road when she ain't being a bookworm like you." He gave me a nudge, and I snickered. "I figured you might find something to talk about for more than an hour." One hour. That had been the length of my previous, and last for the time being, date. A date with a guy, the first ever of that kind that I had had. Not the first of that kind; ever since high-school I knew I could fall in love with anyone. But it was the first disappointment in my short history of dates. On one hand, it was on me for getting my hopes up so high, being a star-eyed teen and all. But on the other, he was a bully. I'd seen him flirt with one of the girls in my chemistry class one day, then a girl from History the other, playing with them like toys. I'm not the rude type, but if there's one thing I hate, that's it. So, to get away, I lied I felt sick. Who knew. Maybe it wasn't a lie. One hour. And Frans reminding me of it felt like the memory was a still-warm cigarette butt snuffed out in my arm. I winced as loudly as possible and turned away from him in a pretended theatrical twirl. "That sounds like some faith you got in me. Thanks a dozen ." I didn't want to make him feel down as well. Hell, the more positive I was trying to stay, the less my mood was willing to cooperate. Frans is right. I should stuff my brain or soul's pockets with some courage and go see that girl. She can't be that bad. Frans bit his lip. After the proverbial slap in the face his words had delivered to me, now it was his turn to feel bad. "Ruben... I do have faith in you. More than you think. You look great, and you know it. I've told you I'd have dated you if things were a bit different." If we had the time, if he came to terms with liking guys, if we got drunk enough one night, probably... the future was built on possibilities. And one of them, right now, was that I didn't screw up, and that my date somehow went as smoothly as cream on top of a cake, like Frans the foodie would say. I cocked an eyebrow and got up. Tidying up could do itself on its own for now. If my friend was serious he had set me up for a date, it was most likely going to happen today, in a few hours. I knew the exact way Frans' thoughts ran. Something of the sort would be typical of him to do, surprise me on the same day he has got the gift ready. No matter if said gift was a pizza and video game night, or a cool shirt. "I... I thought that would cheer you up, Roob. You know, going out a bit. With someone new." He shrugged and stared at the floor. In the blink of an eye, good old cheery Frans had lost his golden shine and turned grey with disappointment over my reaction. A stab of guilt didn't take too long to catch me in the gut. "I know that's what you like when you ain't got the world on ya mind. But... what do I know? Your studies... could be the entire world for you right now." I put my hand on his shoulder, and our eyes met. Sigh . Good-with-words me, all of a sudden, had lost the little groove he had had. I found myself stumbling through them. What could I say? What on earth could I say to fix this and chase away the frown from Frans' face? "That's not true, and you know it. I'll like this date. I have a good feeling about it. Just..." Another sigh. I wanted to slap myself in the face. Why, why had I spent so much time overthinking and worrying about things recently, why? "I'm scared, man. What if she hates me? What if I fuck it up? Last time I-" "Last time you went out with the wrong girl, dude." His eyes, his face - no, his damn hair and cardigan are looking tired, drooping down from him. I'll owe him takeaway and a chill evening with some video games to make it up, I can smell that from here. "Live a little, Ruben, let yourself have some fun! Back in the first year you were the life of the gang, you... you were different, wanted to hang out with everyone and told absolutely horrible puns about criminals and stuff. Now acing the exams is all you've got your mind on. Made me real sad seeing you like that." I watch him for a beat, then I collect myself. "I gave her your contacts, by the way. She'll text you in a bit, if she hasn't already," Frans adds after me, half-shouting, as I have ran out into the corridor, full-on chaos mode, trying to find clothes that will match and look nice together. "Also, her favourite colour is red, so you're in some good bloody luck there!" Those are the last words I hear before I run into the bedroom to go through the wardrobe. As I'm finishing tying my shoes and pushing the front door open, I go through at least three different scenarios. Frans dropped some hints here and there last week, but they were so vague it took me this week - no, up to today, the day of the actual date! - to figure them out. I knew her name sounded like that of a Norse goddess, she was studying literature and had a blog for book reviews, and worked at a bookshop part-time to pay her semesters and rent. Frans is right; that's my type - or one of the many types I can have. And yet, my imagination is as rich as ever. In this very moment, quite unhelpfully so. Dammit, I worry too much, don't I? People don't really notice that, I hope. Or how dishevelled my hair might be when I finally see her; I forgot my hair tie, and so the entire mass of red fluff is all over my shoulders and face. Or the suit I put on. Is that too formal for a first date? Do first impressions matter at all? And what about my breath? Would she be into a guy who's nearly thirty but is still pushing university, because he spent his life travelling left and right, or would she laugh at me and tell me to be more serious? Right under the oak tree in the little park across the street, I see a pink umbrella with cat ears flutter in the air. The girl greets me with a hug and a wide smile that makes my heart jump. "Oh, hey there! I hope this doesn't scare you..." "Your friend and I started hanging out like, three or so months ago," she went on, and her voice struck a chord inside me, a chord I had forgotten how to play. "We got close pretty fast, and I noticed he'd mention you often, 'Ruben this, Ruben that'-" yep, sounds like Frans alright , "-and I- I got curious, you see, I thought we'd make good friends!" Oh, thank goodness. A new friend. Funny, it really does feel like Frans did set us up together. I could swear he knows the entire university by their first names, so I won't pretend I'm close to being surprised. In any case, it is curious how he finds this folk at the most unexpected places. Not everyone at uni is close friends with everyone. Boy, I don't even know all the people who are supposed to be my classmates. I hope this new girl does indeed earn her badge of friendship in my heart. And I - in hers, too. I don't think I'm close with any of the girls whom we are supposed to be in the same study group with. And that could prove good not just for getting my hands on any extra lectures, but also for my social life... I snap out of it and focus on the new girl's face once more. Hmph, that dreamy look my friends keep pinning on me might truly be there (as much as I don't want to believe my friends when they notice it). For someone so precise and careful with the things I do, writing or playing games or studying, this day has caught me being a complete mess, all over the place. Now what was she going on about, again? "But when he showed me some photos of you guys together, I..." Her eyes are watery. Is she about to start crying? Wait, what, why? "I couldn't believe it, Ruben. I thought I was dreaming. I was..." She pauses. For a few seconds, my heart is beating so fast I'm convinced it is about to explode. "I'm Freya. Remember? From high-school. I kept sending you all those Valentines every year from the time we sat next to each other in Literature. Then you started hanging out with other guys more, and I with other girls." She handed me a paper bag. "I still haven't forgotten you love cherries, though. Here you go!" " Freya ." I sweep her up into my arms in a heartbeat, closing my eyes shut. My lips kiss the top of her head. After all this time... "I know it's super cheesy, but, uh... my crush... I'd started to fall for you, Ruby." My high-school nickname. Oh my god. I can't believe this. She still remembers. "You were really cute, and you still are. I... I had no idea how to tell you back then." "Your cheesy is the best thing on earth, Freya."