February, 2016.

He has one of those faces that are, in their rarity, impossibly enticing.

His eyes are of a deep blue color, and they are a bit too wide apart, granting him this almost alien-like appearance. His nose is long and narrow, slightly crooked towards the tip. His mouth is small but the lips are full and heart shaped, with a vibrant shade of pink that contrast visibly against the paleness of his skin. And, although his jaw line is notoriously weak even under the perfectly groomed stubble, he most certainly has the sharpest of cheekbones to compensate for it.

When he smiles, which apparently seems to be all the time, he reveals a row of white, perfectly shaped and aligned teeth; and his voice feels as smooth as silk as it rolls out of his tongue with a properly posh London accent.

His name is Will. He is about to turn twenty six years old in a few days, and he is an up and coming architect at a budding, successful company.

He's charming and well spoken without being arrogant or narcissistic in the slightest. He laughs constantly and, most of the time, of himself.

He sworn he would keep his coffee inside his cup and off of my clothes, and so far he's been upholding that promise.

In all accounts, and forgetting the clumsiness that lead to our first encounter, he is the definition of a perfect man. And any girl shall be lucky to have him.

"So, how long have you been in London?" He asks, distracting me from tracing little circles on the wooden table with my finger.

"A few months." I answer shortly but trying not to sound too dour.

The thing is, even after the magnificent description I just made of him, I can't seem to connect. Not with the situation, and definitely not with him.

"And how do you like it so far?" He seems to be unaffected by my detachment, or maybe he just doesn't notice it. "I know it's not New York but..."

"I love it, actually. And I think it's better than New York." I manage to sound a little more engaged with the conversation. "People understand me when I talk here. And they're not constantly asking me what we call things here." I even joke.

"I totally get it." He chuckles. "What's with Americans and their obsession with British slang? How do you call this? And that?"

The way he impersonates the American accent as he points at different things makes me laugh, and for the first time since we sat down I feel myself starting to relax.

"Yes, it feels good to be home."

The rest of the date we spend it talking mostly about the most trivial of things, and for that, I am totally grateful. I don't think I could handle getting to answer any personal questions other than favorite movies or books.

"I would really love to do this again, sometime."

He is pulling over by my building, and I'm unlocking my seatbelt. I glance up to him and I give him a coy smile.

He doesn't even try to go in for an after date kiss and again, I silently thank him for the gesture.

In my head I try to find the right words to let him down gently, hating myself for not feeling absolutely anything towards him.

But my coward brain plays a trick on me and I am speaking before I realize what I'm saying.

"Sure, I'd like that too." I rush to give him a peck on the cheek and half a second later I am out of the car, closing the door shut.

"I'll call you, then."

All throughout our date I kept searching for a flaw. Anything, no matter how insignificant, to help me convince myself turning him down was a good idea.

Maybe, if I'm lucky enough, he is one of those guys whose flaw is to appear flawless, and then turn out to be the assholes that fall off the grid and never call you again.

*****

"I think you should call him." Beth gulps down the last of her wine, sprawling all over my couch. "If the mountain won't go to Muhammad..."

I watch her from across the small room, seated on my single chair, and I laugh silently.

She doesn't know that Muhammad is thrilled that the mountain hasn't made the slightest attempt to come to him. Much less that he has no intention whatsoever to do something about it.

It's been over a week since my date with Will and so far, my cowardly prayers have been answered.

He hasn't called or texted and I couldn't be more comfortable with that. But just to spare myself a lecture, I simply shrug in indifference.

"I he didn't call by now then he's probably not interested. So what's the point in calling him? It would only make for an awkward conversation."

She studies me in silence, helping herself with another glass of red, and as soon as she opens her mouth to most likely overrule my point, I change the subject.

"So, the recital is two days from now and we still have a few things to adjust."

She knows exactly what I'm doing but she surprisingly lets it slide and the conversation smoothly shifts to the topic of my desire.

We spend the next two hours revisiting positions and other small details until we are as satisfied as we can be.

"I can't wait to see Dolly up there. That girl is so gifted." I sigh, leaning back in my chair. "It's unbelievable."

Like every single time I stop to think about her, I can't help but to go back in my mind to the days when my future was still shining. And like every single time I do that, this heavy weight starts building up on my chest.

"Hey... don't go there." Beth commands me, perfectly reading my suddenly absent mood.

"I try." I say with a cracking voice and I take a deep breath. "But it's really hard not to."

The rest of the night we dedicate it to reminiscing better days, slowly trying to learn to remember them with endearment, and always ready to pick each other up the second we'd feel the memories starting to get a little too dismal.

By the time we are ready to call it a night and I see her off, my phone starts to buzz and I look at the clock in the wall.

It's almost midnight, which means that in New York it is the time when Jasper usually gets home and calls me.

"Hello you little wanker!" I beam, taking the call without even looking at the screen.

There's a second of silence but I hear noise in the background so I know that the call hasn't ended.

"Hello."

The hesitation in his voice is evident and I just pull the phone away from my ear to look at the screen, and I cringe.

I think about hanging up on him but I just stare at the phone as if I had never seen one before.

"Hello?" I hear his voice again. "Are you there?"

"Hi... Will..." I finally respond, putting up the speaker as I take a sit on the couch. "I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else."

He lets out a short laugh, clearly trying to shake off the awkwardness of it all. And I try to do the same but with little to no results.

"I didn't mean to disappoint." He says lively. "And I hope I didn't catch you in a bad time."

Mostly out of reflex I tell him it's okay and that his timing is not all that bad.

"How've you been?" I ask then.

"Actually, I have been thinking whether or not to call you. But I've had a few beers and I thought what the hell!"

This time he succeeds in yanking a smile out of me. And a very dorky giggle comes along with it.

"I see." I reply, and this loud noise at the other line, followed by a word I would have never imagine coming out of his mouth makes me jump. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just got drenched with Guinness." He informs me with an annoyed yet amused timber on his voice.

"Well, I guess karma really is a bitch."

~~~~~

Song: Not Like The Movies by Katy Perry.