Thanks to Amara for reading it over for me. Lyrics are Missy Higgins and Sheryl Crow.


'Cause I don't know
I don't know
Who I am without you
All I know
Is that I should...

May, 1993

Sam watched the beads of condensation on her water glass slowly build up and drip down the sides, sinking into the paper coaster on the bar and spreading into a dark circle. Blowing out a tense breath, she straightened her skirt for the eightieth time. Why, why was she always so early? If she hadn't been here fifteen minutes early, she could have spent fifteen fewer minutes freaking out.

"Is this seat taken?"

Glancing over her shoulder, she cast the tall, dark-haired man a smile. Looking at him, she kind of wished it wasn't. "Sorry. I'm actually waiting for someone."

"Yeah? Girls' night out?" he suggested with a mischievous grin.

"Uh... wow," she managed, though she couldn't quite erase the smile despite the implication that she couldn't get a date. "I think I'm insulted."

"No, no, that was just me being hopeful. Boyfriend, then?"

"I... no," she said. "Not really."

He raised an eyebrow. "Huh. I'm back to being hopeful, then, but I'm very, very confused."

Oh, she didn't want to tell him the truth, but there was something about him that she couldn't let walk away. Still... "It's embarrassing," she admitted with a cringe. "My friends, they... they set me up with this guy. It's a blind date. And I hate blind dates. And I hate first dates, so..."

"Well, you look great," he told her. "He's a lucky guy."

Blushing, she looked away – she'd never been very comfortable with praise like that.

And for the first time, she noticed the rose in his far hand.

He caught her looking. "A very lucky guy."

"And he's... you," she choked out, nose wrinkling as her embarrassment morphed into complete mortification. Gleeful, charmed out of her socks – er, stockings – mortification.

"That depends. Sam?"

"Yes?"

He held out the rose. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Jonas."