Naomi

“Max.” I complained. “What is this?”

The large room was filled with what looked like a hundred small tables, each with only two chairs. Glancing back at Max’s face I knew I was going to regret agreeing to get out of the house with him.

I punched him in the arm. “Max. What have you gotten me into?”

“You’re a volunteer! You can think of it as charity.” He cheerfully announced.

“Charity? What kind of volunteer?” 

“Naomi, don’t worry about it. It’ll be fun.” He put his hand on my back and pushed me into the room.

I pushed back. “You are not exactly inspiring confidence, Max.  Remember when you said that it would be fun to jump on my mother’s dining table?”

I watched him cringe.

“Yeah. I was grounded for months.”

“So one time one of my ideas didn’t work out.” He laughed. “Chill. This will be fun.”

“One time? What about our first night of college? Or the time you tried to sneak skittles into everyone’s drinks at the hottest club in the city? Or when you dragged me to the opening day of the Red Sox in a Yankees jersey?” I put my hands on my hips. “I could keep going.”

Max didn’t look bothered in the slightest. “Those are some good memories.” 

“What did you volunteer me for?”

He pointed. Following his finger I groaned at the large sign declaring ‘Specialized Speed Dating’.

Dread filled me. “Please tell me that you volunteered me to pass out name tags or ring the bell.”

“That would be absolutely no fun. I volunteered you to be a wild card.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

A stunning and sophisticated woman in a black sheath dress came striding toward them with an effusive smile. “Max Devlin?” At his nod, she practically sighed. “You are just in time. And are you Naomi Lancer?” At my nod, she began to gush. “Oh my goodness, when I heard we had two volunteer wild cards I just knew this was going to be a wonderful night. Now, if the two of you will follow me.”

I punched at Max again but he caught me, pulling me in under his arm. “What is a wild card?” I whispered.

“In uno?” He chuckled at his own hilarity.

“No, you dunce. You know exactly what I mean.”

They were interrupted by the coordinator.

“Alright Max, we are going to drop you off right here. Serena will help you get ready. Naomi, follow me.”

We only took a few steps before I was walking up next to her, feeling underdressed in my plain jeans and tshirt.

“So my friend Max didn’t really clarify to me what it would mean to be a wild card. Could you give me some more details?”

“Oh sure.” She didn’t slow down as she pulled up her clipboard to glance at it. “A wild card is a fun twist we throw in to spice up the night. The room is split up into specialties, the ones people are looking for in a significant other or the ones they fall into themselves. So we have a business specialty, one for computer engineering and software, gamers, high level executives, small business owners, athletes, and more. We pride ourselves on providing more than an average, ‘throw everyone together and hope two people find each other who might have a chance at a relationship’ event.”

“So they sign up for which group they want to speed date in? How do you avoid confusion if an athlete wants to date a doctor but all the doctors are in the medical group or are off looking for a small business owner to date?” There were too many variables for me to make sense of it all.

The woman shrugged. “We do our best. We have the first hour of the night where all the men are in the group that is their profession and the women choose which group to speed date in. The next hour we have all the women in their profession group and the men choose the groups they are interested in dating. Then the last hour is a big social, where everyone gets to mingle and connect.” 

“So I don’t mean to repeat myself but I still don’t understand where I come in.”

The coordinator chuckled. “Sorry, I sometimes go off on a tangent. A wild card, you, will be available for dates by request. We get you all dolled up and take a gorgeous picture of you. Then the men of all the groups can choose to request you specifically. Then they will each get a time slot to meet you.”

“Why doesn’t every girl desperate for a date sign up to be a wild card then?” I was bewildered. It didn’t sound like it was beneficial to not be a wild card.

“Most ladies prefer to feel like they have more choice.”

I glanced around the room we were in. “It looks like what I would assume speed dating looks like. You all sit down and one side cycles through. Not much choosing.”

“Ah but they get to choose their group.”

“I don’t have to say yes to a date with any of the men that sign up to meet me right?”

“No.” She hastily assured me. “This is where I’ll leave you with the experts to get you ready.”

And just like that, she was gone and I was surrounded by several smiling people who were pulling out clothes for me to try on, asking about my skin, and fingering my hair. I was going to maim Max.

People were arriving and I was surprised to see how many men took one look at my picture and headed straight to the sign up sheet. 

“Sizing up the suitors?” I looked to my left to see a dark haired man in a charcoal gray suit leaning against a nearby chair, his light green eyes focused on me. “By the looks of it, you’ll have plenty of attention.”

I blushed and stepped further into the shadows. 

The man had noticed my retreat and made his way over to stand next to me. He turned back to watch the newcomers.

“What brings you here tonight? Looking to meet your prince charming or handsome knight errant? That happily ever after story?”

“No.” I stepped away. “I’m here for a friend.”

“Is she desperate for a man or a love story? Or both?”

I looked straight at him with a sultry smile, or at least as sultry of a smile as I could muster. “No.”

He was better at the sultry thing. In fact, he made it look natural and effortless. “That’s it? No insightful details into your delightsome and alluring personality to entice me into asking you out?”

I laughed. “My friend dragged me here to torture me. HE wants me to get out of the house more and sees it as his personal mission to see it happen.”

“Brother?” His eyes sparked.

“Friend. Annoying life-long friend.”

The sparks in his eyes heated. “Perfect.”

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Come back next week for more of Naomi!