“So, your name is?” I said impatiently.

“Zeeshan,” he said, barely looking at me. He was so focused on Tania that he forgot to reciprocate the question.

“Well, I’m Leila, in case you were wondering.” He made a low, inaudible sound, his gaze still distracted. After about a minute of silence, I finally broke my composure. “You really like her, don’t you?”

“Who?” he asked, caught off guard as he turned to me for the first time. There was a look of sincerity in his dark brown eyes. I nodded my head to the right. “Oh, I mean . . .” He blushed and smiled bashfully.

“I don’t blame you; she is pretty great.”

He arched his eyebrows. “Do you know her?”

“Tania? Yeah, she’s one of my best friends.” I smiled as he glanced over at her again.

“Do you think she— I mean do you know if maybe . . . I don’t know . . .” He trailed off nervously. I looked at Tania and noticed her peering at Zeeshan too.

“I have a feeling she might . . . you know.”

“Really?” He beamed and leaned back in his chair. “Cool.”

BUZZ!

As Zeeshan got up to move to the next table, I motioned for Tania’s attention and gave her a quick thumbs-up. She stared at me, confused, but then I pointed to Zeeshan and wiggled my brows up and down. Her face reddened as she smiled. I glimpsed at my watch once more. Almost done, I thought.

Speed Date #9

“Hey, so since we don’t have much time, let me tell you about myself,” Suitor #9 said before he even sat down. “I was in born in Kansas in 1982. Now, I know what you’re thinking. Kansas? And before you say anything, let me just tell you that Kansas has a lot more to offer than just wheat and sunflowers! I went to this private day school in Atchison. Fun fact: it was the same school that Amelia Earhart attended until she was twelve—”

“That is interesting,” I tried to break in. “But since we’ve only got seven minutes, maybe you can skip the early years and tell me more about—”

“So when I was fourteen, my family moved to Fort Dodge, Iowa. Now, if you thought Kansas was an interesting place for a little brown boy like myself, wait until you hear about Iowa—”

“Actually, we could probably skip your teenage years as well—”

“My sophomore year, I joined the Math Olympiads, and boy was that a trip! During our first competition, Jonathan De Russo . . .”

I glanced at the clock. For the next three minutes, Suitor #9 continued to talk nonstop—his words hitting me like a bullet train. He told me about his first crush, his delayed puberty, his sex-addicted roommate in college. With the minutes ticking down, I eventually exploded.

“Are you even the slightest bit interested in anything I have to say?”

“I’m so sorry!” he said, taken aback. It was the first second of silence we had gotten since the moment he sat down. “Of course, you’re right! I’m so sorry! I really am!”