The loud timer at the front of the conference hall breaks us from our conversation, making my head snap to you standing from your seat across from me. “Wait, uh, can I get-” I start to speak, before quickly remembering one of the rules.

No exchanging contact information. Fuck.

One of my friends had arranged this speed dating event in LA on Valentine’s Day for some charity, and I had agreed to sign up. Camille and I recently broke up, so I had nothing else to do, and it’s for a good cause.

The entire hour so far had been a complete shit show, as I had expected because of who I am, but I hadn’t expected you. The very last girl I get paired with to be the absolute woman of my dreams.

Yet I can’t get your number because of some ridiculous rule. Just my luck.

“Okay, uh, shit-” I mutter under my breath, trying to quickly think of something while you stand there confusedly. How is someone so pretty- focus, Harry. A plan.