Disclaimer: 

While this story gets its inspiration from recent news events, this story and all the situations, people, dialogue, places, etc are fictional. It is not meant to portray real events and the author has no more knowledge than the average person checking BBC News or CNN. 

This story was written quickly, from a somewhat unhinged idea, and the author did not deeply research neighborhoods in New York City or pretty much anything else contained herein (other than a very surface level Googling). My apologies in advance for any unintended inaccuracies or misrepresentations.

“And when I came back from the bathroom, he had Tinder open and was actively. Swiping.” Bridget spaced out the last two words for dramatic effect.

“I mean, I can’t say I haven’t done the same on a dud date,” I responded to her, not even looking away from the computer screen or pausing in my fast-paced typing. Then I realized what I’d actually said and paused to look at Bridget apologetically. “Not that you were a dud date. He was clearly the dud in this situation.” 

“Appreciate that after thought, Soph,” Bridget smirked. “That’s not the worst. He made a random, shitty excuse to leave and then asked if I knew which train line would take him to Williamsburg. When he’d already said that his apartment was in Hell’s Kitchen. So he was clearly heading to another date.”

We paused our conversation as a guest walked up to the desk. “Hi, I was told to ask about the walking tour,” a shy young man with a thick Nordic accent asked after Bridget greeted him. 

“We have a few, actually…” Bridget turned around to grab one of the fliers we kept behind the desk. Or… that we were supposed to keep behind the desk. “Oh, crap, George must have handed out the last one and not bothered to print out more. I’ll be one sec.” She gave the kid a smile and dashed into the back office. 

“What are you hoping to see?” I asked while he was waiting. As the hostel’s Guest Services Director, planning all the events and tours and other fun bonuses for our guests is part of my job, so I knew the schedules like the back of my hand. 

He shuffled nervously. I’d guess that he was one of our younger guests… probably 17 or 18 and only just out of high school or secondary school or whatever his country called it. But we’d also had some guests with baby faces like his that had turned out to be almost 30 like me, so what did I know?

“Um… I heard there was one that went to Trinity Church?” 

Ah… must be a theatre kid. We’d specifically expanded our lower Manhattan walking tour to include that as a stop because so many Hamilton fans had requested directions to the church yard to see the graves of founding father Alexander Hamilton, his wife Eliza, and her sister Angelica. I stopped myself from humming the line from the show under my breath. 

“Yes, the Lower Manhattan tour,” I pulled out a slip of paper to write down the info on. “We do that one midday Wednesdays.” I jotted down the time and some quick subway directions (a straight shot on the 1 to the South Ferry stop). “That’s one of my favorites. The train takes about half an hour, so I’d make sure to leave about 45 minutes to get there just to play it safe. Look for the person with the bright green shirt and the sign that says ‘Tour it up!’” 

As I handed him the slip of paper, Bridget returned with a small stack of fliers. She looked between us and rolled her eyes with a smile. “Did Sophia already give you all the info from her encyclopedic brain?” She asked the kid. He nodded with a smile and took the flier anyway, waving as he headed out into the bustle of New York City. After placing the fliers back in their appropriate slot, she put her hands on her hips and gave me one of her withering glares. Well, withering to anyone who hadn’t lived with her for five years and developed immunity to it.

“What?” I replied innocently, turning my attention back to my laptop. 

“You’re not even supposed to be up here. Don’t you have an actual desk back there?” she pointed to the back offices where she’d just come from. 

“I prefer the company up here.” I gave her the cheesiest grin I could muster. 

“Where was I?” she asked with a smile. 

“Your date was mistaking you for Google Maps.” 

“Yes, right! So I told him to get on one of the blue lines heading to Rockaway and he’d be there in a jiffy.” 

I snorted reflexively. “That’s some good retribution.” 

“I thought so. Silly New York newbies.” 

“Maybe next time, you should take it as a red flag when his Tinder pic has him holding one Costco hot dog in each hand right next to his face suggestively.” 

“Everything’s a red flag. Gotta start somewhere.” 

‘Do you?’ I wanted to ask, but I didn’t want the inevitable lecture about “getting out there” that would follow. My last relationship had ended in a spectacular meltdown in the middle of a mid-town five star restaurant when my boyfriend’s wife interrupted our dinner to hand him their divorce papers herself. His wife that I hadn’t actually known about. I hadn’t dated anyone since then, unsure where in the hell in this city to actually find someone nice and kind and honest and not completely self-absorbed. 

After a few minutes working in tandem silence, Bridget turned to me. “You cool to watch the desk for a minute?” 

“Who’s happy to have me up here now?” I joked as she was already walking toward the bathrooms. 

In the past year, Bridget had been my lifeline once again. We met at NYU, connected by the campus bulletin board where we were both looking for a roommate mid-year. We quickly became best friends, practical sisters, doing everything together. When she was in between acting gigs (usually doing background or stand-in work on NYC based tv shows, but sometimes getting an off-Broadway role here and there), she’d pick up shifts at the front desk of Hostel Home NYC, where I worked full time. 

“How can I help?” I asked the guy who’d just walked up to the desk. It was already below freezing outside (an early one this year) and he took a moment to pull the buff down from his face and pull his hood back before replying. 

“Hi, checking in,” he answered before flashing a dazzling smile. 

Damn. 

Dazzling didn’t do it justice. This smile, the cheek bones that popped out to accommodate it, the bright green eyes that flashed along with it… it was more than dazzling. It was… radiant, sparkling, incandescent. It had been a long time since a guy had smiled at me like that and it was kind of hypnotic. And then the smile dropped, slightly.

“Can I… check in?” 

“Oh, shit, yeah, sorry.” How long had I been gazing at him like an idiot? “And sorry about saying shit just then.” I moved from my laptop to the desktop computer we used for check in. “Last name? And an ID and credit card, please?”

“Jason Duke,” he answered, placing a Florida ID and a plain VISA card on the desk. I pulled up the reservation and took a quick look at the card. 

“Oh, this looks like a debit card. Just to let you know, we’re going to authorize the amount of your stay… 7 nights it looks like… as well as an additional $400 for –”

“Damages, room service… spa treatments,” he finished for me, adding the last two with clear irony (at least I hoped it was irony). “And it’ll be cleared after checkout. Yep, I’m familiar with how it goes.” 

“Okay,” I confirmed as I ran the card through the card reader and started to pull together a check in packet for him. I had to check. “Um, just to make sure, you know this is a hostel, right? No spa treatments, I’m afraid.” 

His smile dropped and he looked around. “Wait… this isn’t The Plaza? Man, I knew that hundred dollar a night rate was too good to be true.” He frowned at me and I was trying to figure out how to formulate a response when the frown cracked and that glittering smile returned. I laughed along with him as I handed his cards back and finished putting together the various fliers. 

“Well, no room service either, but we do have a self-service kitchen open 24 hours and I put a list of some of our favorite local spots in here for you. I also put our amenities and activities list for the next week and then there’s our rules and code of conduct, which you agreed to when you made the booking, but we include it as a reminder.” 

“Great!” He stood there for a long moment and I just… stood there back? Finally, he cleared his throat.

“You didn’t tell me what room. Or give me a key, actually.” He was sheepish, like he felt bad that he had to remind me about this. God, he must think I’m some brand new idiot employee by now. 

I picked up the keycard I’d coded but then set down. “Yes, sorry about that. Room 12, up on the second floor. Keycard is for the room, the locker and front door after nine pm.”

He took the key and flashed another smile, nodding his head as he took the stairs up to his room. Bridget had just rejoined me as he was walking off. 

“Checking out the hottie?” She asked, giving me a gentle hip check. 

“Checking him in, yes,” I gave her a side eye. 

“You know, tourists visiting town make for great flings. Just saying.”

“I’m not a fling person, Bridge.”

“Yes, I’m aware, but like… maybe you should try it? Colin left you almost a year ago. Queen Victoria mourned for less time than you have for a shitty guy and a two year relationship.”

Factual inaccuracy aside, I got her point. But based on her frequent tales, I knew how rough the New York dating scene was.

“Because your tales of Tinder woes make such a compelling case for dating right now.”

“It’s a numbers game, babe. You have to kiss a lot of fishes, etcetera. Besides, sometimes you can get a good meal out of it.” 

“Speaking of, are we still on for dinner tonight? I need to run some errands, but I’ll see you there at seven?”

“I’ll be there.” 

###

               Today 7:10pm

Text from Bridge:

Hang for a bit? That seemed like an odd request, but I had already started on a glass of wine so I at least needed to finish that and pay. Might as well order dinner to go while I’m here anyway. I looked behind me to see if I could catch the waiter’s eye. Just as I did, a voice came from the other side of the table. 

“Is this seat taken?”

Probably someone joining an already full table and needing an extra seat. I turned to tell them to take it, but when I looked up to the person who’d asked… there was that smile again. A blue scarf was tucked into his jacket. He didn’t seem as surprised to see me as I was to see him. 

“Hi… what are you doing here?”

“It was on the list you recommended. Greek diner sounded good.” His grin turned sheepish again. “And the girl at the desk hinted that you might happen to be here and in need of some company for dinner.”

Bridget. Of course. Sneaky so and so. 

“How thoughtful of her.” I tried to keep the smile from my words, but I’m sure I failed. “Sure, please join me. I’m Sophia, by the way.” 

“Jason. In case you forgot.” I had not. He held out his hand to shake mine. The waiter arrived to take his drink order and I asked for some dolmas while he looked over the menu. 

“Is it your first time in New York City?” It was pretty banal small talk, but a good place to start with people who stayed at the hostel. Very rare to have someone who actually lived locally staying with us. 

“No, came with my parents a couple times,” he answered, looking up from the menu. “With some friends once in college. But this is my first solo trip.” 

“Here for anything in particular?” 

He studied the menu very intently for a moment before answering, not looking up to do so. “A meeting.” 

There was definitely a story there, but I got the impression he wasn’t in the sharing mood when it came to this meeting he was in town for. After the waiter took his order, he turned the conversation my way. 

“Where are you from?” 

“A small town in western Pennsylvania. Outside of Pittsburgh.” I didn’t bother with the name. No one who wasn’t a local knew of it.

His face brightened. “No way! I went to U Penn.” 

Wow. An Ivy Leaguer? “Oh, how funny! What a small world. We probably know some of the same people.”

He nodded as he bit into one of the dolmas. When he was done chewing, he returned to questions, but shifted away from himself again. “So what brought you to New York?”

“Followed a boy to NYU,” I admitted. I scrunched my nose in shame. 

“How very Felicity of you,” he laughed. 

“I know!” I covered my face with my hands. “I hadn’t even seen that show or anything until I admitted it to my friend Bridget… she’s the girl at the desk who told you I’d be here… anyway, she said basically the same thing and made me watch the show with her all weekend when I said I didn’t know what she was talking about.” I laughed and took a sip of my water. “In my defense, I was actually dating the boy I followed here.”

“Much less stalkery,” he agreed. 

“Thank you. Anyway, college relationship so of course it didn’t last. Had to find a new roommate, hence Bridget. And we’re still friends.” 

His brow furrowed. If possible, that was even more attractive than his smile. “You and Bridget or you and the boyfriend?”

“Both, actually. But he is back in West Mifflin and married with kids, I think.” 

“And you’re still in the big city.” The smile returned and it was infectious. 

“Yep. I love it here. And I majored in hospitality, so not many places in the world with more opportunities than New York City.” 

Our food came and conversation paused while we both enjoyed our food, with Jason complimenting my taste in restaurants. 

“Well, if you want truly amazing Greek food, the Astoria neighborhood is where to go. This is just the closest of the best. I’m going to a friend’s stand-up gig tonight, so I wanted to stay close.”

“Neat – the friend is doing standup?” 

“Yeah, they’re getting pretty good at it, developing a decent following.” 

He nodded. “I like comedy.” I nodded in return. Would it be weird to invite him? Was it weird to not invite him? I hadn’t been on a date in ages, let alone a not-quite-sure-what-this-is-happen-to-run-into-each-other dinner… I had no idea what the protocol was. I focused on finishing my pastitsio while I tried to figure out what to say next. 

“Is it…” he started, then halted. “Would it be weird to go to the show, too? I’m not quite ready to call it a night,” he finished softly. 

I looked up at him. He wore a hesitant smile and his green eyes flashed with hope. A warmth flushed through me under his gaze. I wasn’t quite ready to be out of his company either. 

“That… would be really nice, actually.” 

###

“Soapy! Holy shit you brought a man!” My friend Dara, all 240lbs, 6’4”, linebacker build of them wrapped me in a hug when they found me after their set. Jason and I hung back at the bar so I could congratulate them without disturbing the next comics on stage much. “Since when are you dating? Who is this? Why haven’t I vetted them? Has Bridget vetted them?” 

“Great set, Dara,” I squeezed them one more time before releasing the hug. “And this is Jason. And it’s not a date, we’re just… hanging out,” I finished. 

Dara threw two slow blinks at me, their expression of disbelief.

“I’m staying at the hostel,” Jason explained. “And I just happened to run into Sophia at dinner and she let me tag along. Thought it would be cool to see a real NYC standup show. And you were great, really funny.” 

Dara nodded, a look that gave strong Jennifer Lawrence, thumbs up, “Okay” gif vibes. 

“Oh, the bit about the night trains to Brooklyn is really coming along,” I complimented them, turning the attention away from Jason. I knew Dara couldn’t resist a well timed compliment. 

“Oh, great! Yeah, I think I’ve finally got it to a point where non-New Yorkers can laugh with it.” 

“I did!” Jason chimed in, as he paid for the next round of drinks and then handed them over to us. 

“Oooh, what a gentleman,” Dara purred. “You can keep this one, Soapy.” 

After finishing a sip of his beer, Jason spoke. “Okay, so did hear that right. Why ‘Soapy’?”

“In the dorms —” Dara started, but I slapped them. 

“Dara, shut up!” I turned to Jason. “It’s just an inside joke, you don’t need to know the story.” 

“But it’s such a good one!” Dara laughed. 

“No, it’s a hugely embarrassing one,” I insisted.

“That’s why it’s amazing!” Dara shouted, eliciting glares from the people sat at the back of the room. 

“Okay, the mystery is killing me here,” Jason laughed along with us. He looked at me with pleading, puppy dog eyes. I rolled mine, sighed heavily, and indicated that Dara could proceed. 

They rubbed their hands together. “Okay, so freshman year, in the dorms, Sophia’s getting out of the shower and apparently someone had spilled some body wash or something and the floor was totally covered. Soph took one step and - BOOM! Foot out from under her, ass on the ground.” I winced at the memory. “I was just walking in to take my own shower and I see this poor thing on the ground, towel barely covering her, whimpering. So I picked her up, threw a blanket over her naked ass, and took her next door to the medical center. Baby girl slipped on soap and broke her ass!”

“My coccyx, thank you very much.” 

“Babe, that sounds worse.” 

“And my wrist!” 

“And she became little Soapy to me forever from that moment on,” Dara finished.

“Ouch, that had to hurt,” Jason replied, a note of sympathy in his voice. 

“It did, thank you very much,” I confirmed. “I had to carry a damn donut pillow around with me to classes for two months.” 

When Dara lapsed into a fit of giggles, I could tell Jason was doing his best to keep a straight face in solidarity. I gave him a nod of permission as I smiled – despite my mortification at the time, even I had to admit it had become a funny story in retrospect. 

“And then it became a whole thing with my parents’ insurance and the school’s liability insurance and was just a nightmare.” 

It was hard to tell in the dim lighting of the club, but it seemed like his face darkened a little. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Insurance companies are… yeah.” He seemed to stop himself from saying more. After a moment, he shook his head, resetting himself, and gave me a tense smile before finishing his beer. 

After a couple more drinks with Dara, Jason walked me to the subway stop. After the turnstile, I paused. “I’m heading the other way,” I explained with an apologetic smile. 

“Ah.” He frowned. “Well, thank you for one of the best evenings I’ve had in a while.” 

“Just taking the ‘guest services’ part of my job very seriously.” I took a step toward him. “I know I’ll see you at the hostel, but maybe can I… get your number?” 

He blinked and breathed in before answering. “I’m actually between phones right now. It’s a… long story.” He pulled a notebook and pen out of his pocket and flipped in a few pages. “How about I get yours?” 

I jotted it down, along with my name. He smiled and patted it when I handed it back before placing it back in his pocket. I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Should it be a red flag? Who’s ‘between phones’ nowadays? Don’t you just change your phone over to your new carrier when you get one? Or was I just being very elitist and assuming that’s the way that it worked for everyone when, for all I know, half the population actually changes phone numbers with their carriers all the time. 

We stood silent, neither of us heading toward our platforms, for probably what any observer would think was entirely too long. Eventually, he nodded, then leaned forward to kiss me. Granted, I’d only kissed one other person in the last three years and that one person was last kissed almost a year ago but… I was pretty sure this was a damn good kiss. Especially for a first kiss. 

When we were done, he pulled back and smiled at me again before turning to walk to his platform. “I’ll see you, Sophia.” 

###

I didn’t see him again. I didn’t see him the next day during my entire shift. He didn’t call. The following day, I abused my system access and found that he’d checked out the morning after our not-a-date-date. 

“It’s so weird,” I explained when Bridget and I went on a coffee run the next time we were both working together. “We had this really great evening –”

“Which you’re very welcome for,” Bridget interrupted. 

“And then it’s like he just vanished. He even checked out early. Why would he do that?” 

She shrugged. “Maybe he’s like an impish wood sprite who gave you exactly what you needed. A fun, flirty evening and a great kiss to propel you back into the dating world. And with his job done, he’s off to bring some other lady some long-awaited joy.”  

“You need to stop reading so much romantasy,” I chided her, then unleashed a heavy sigh. “I don’t know about that. Now I’m second guessing everything I said and did and wondering why he a) didn’t call and b) changed his entire plans to avoid me.”

We arrived back at the hostel and I was shocked to see that two NYPD officers and at least one person with an FBI jacket were standing in our lobby, talking with the managing director, Juliette. “Sophia,” Juliette greeted me gravely and the heads of the cops all swiveled toward me. “Can you come talk to us for a minute?” 

I shared a nervous look with Bridget. I had no idea what this could be about, but it clearly wasn’t good. 

An hour and a million questions later, the interrogation was over and I was in a daze. 

“Go home, Sophia,” Juliette said quietly as she patted my arm. “Take Bridget with you. I’ll send her back.” With that, she left me alone for a minute to process everything I’d just learned. 

“What the hell is going on?” Bridget asked in a hushed tone when the door closed behind Juliette. 

“Um…” Where did I even start with this? “So, apparently Jason… that you sent to find me in a diner and that I went to a stand-up show with and that I had my first kiss in a year with is… well, they think he is the guy that killed that CEO.” 

Bridget’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened almost comically. She stared at me for a long moment, trying to process this, too. Finally, eventually, she had something to say. 

“Tinder isn’t looking so bad anymore, is it?”

THE END.

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