Adrian Foster had always had an impeccable routine. Although he lived in a Riverside Hills penthouse, surrounded by luxury, his lifestyle was somewhat methodical. He went to bed around 11 p.m. and woke up at 7 a.m. His body was accustomed to those exact eight hours of restful sleep.
That morning, the sun was barely peeking through the Manhattan skyscrapers when Adrian opened his bedroom window. Fresh air rushed in, mingled with the aroma of coffee from a nearby café and the murmur of traffic that was already beginning to fill the city. The neon lights that had dominated the night were slowly fading, and the city that never sleeps was awakening with renewed energy.
"Another day in New York," he murmured, with a half smile.
After showering, he headed to his apartment's open kitchen. He wasn't an expert chef, but he liked making his own breakfast. In less than half an hour, he had a plate of scrambled eggs, avocado toast, a couple of pancakes with maple syrup, and a black Starbucks coffee he'd ordered for delivery on the marble island.
He settled into the sofa with his plate in his hands as the golden light of dawn filtered through the large window. From there, he could see the reflection of the Hudson River and, beyond, the glittering rooftops of the Columbia University buildings. The view filled him with a sense of peace. Sometimes, life could be as simple and perfect as a good breakfast overlooking a panorama of Manhattan.
By the time he finished, it was almost 8:30. He grabbed his laptop and fired up the game he'd been hooked on lately:League of Legends.
Although he had millions in his bank account and could spend as he pleased, Adrián enjoyed real competition, where money wasn't the most important thing, but skill. He had invested fortunes in other video games just to dominate the rankings, but this one was different. The strategy, the teamwork, the nerves of each match… those things brought back the genuine excitement of playing.
"Come on, Foster, you're reaching Gold today," he said to himself, settling into the ergonomic chair of his gaming setup.
The morning passed quickly. He won several games in a row and was on the verge of being eliminated from the Silver division. His Twitch chat was filled with messages from his followers, some encouraging him and others challenging him. Adrián laughed confidently. Being young, rich, and skilled gave him an advantage that couldn't be bought: self-confidence.
Looking at the time on the wall clock, he was surprised.
—Eleven… damn, I have the appointment today.
He shut down his computer and stood up abruptly. He walked to his dressing room, an entire room filled with designer suits, Italian shirts, limited-edition sneakers, and luxury watches.
She tried several combinations before deciding. In the end, she opted for a crisp white shirt, slim-fit khaki pants, and white Nike Air sneakers. Simple yet elegant, the look of someone who could be at a casual meeting or on a magazine cover.
He looked at himself in the mirror and smiled ironically.
—Okay, Mom, I'll listen to you this time.
Because deep down, that date was a request from his mother, Linda Foster, who never tired of telling him that it was time to have a partner.
Leaving the penthouse, he went down to the underground parking garage and started his Maserati Levante. The roar of the engine echoed off the walls, attracting the gaze of curious onlookers. He drove toward Midtown without any problems; it was mid-morning, and traffic had not yet reached its most chaotic.
The meeting place was a small but charming restaurant in the Bryant Park area. Nothing fancy, no caviar or French champagne. A perfect place for a first date: warm, with good music and affordable dishes.
Adrian arrived early, as he usually did for everything. He sat at a table by the window, ordered a glass of water with lemon, and waited.
It wasn't long before he heard a female voice behind him.
—Excuse me, are you Adrian Foster?
He turned around. There she was:Emily Harris, the girl in the photo her mother had sent her via WhatsApp the night before. She was wearing a simple pastel blue dress that highlighted her athletic figure. Her lightly tanned skin, brown hair falling in waves over her shoulders, and rosy cheeks made her look natural and charming.
Adrian stood up immediately.
"Yes, it's me. Nice to meet you, Emily." He politely pulled out a chair for her.
She smiled and sat down opposite him.
—You're more attractive in person than in the photo, I must admit.
He laughed softly.
—Thanks, although my mom chose a photo of me that made me look like I was going to a wedding. Believe me, I don't always look like that.
They both laughed, immediately breaking the ice.
The waiter arrived with the menus and Adrian offered them to him.
—Order whatever you want, you're invited by me.
Emily calmly browsed the menu.
—I'm not one for extravagant orders. A Caesar salad and a grilled chicken sandwich will be fine.
Adrian nodded.
—Perfect. I'll have a cheeseburger and fries. Simple food is always the best.
The atmosphere was pleasant. Lunchtime hadn't even begun yet, so the restaurant remained quiet, with a low murmur of conversation and the aroma of freshly baked bread.
After some banal chatter, Emily suddenly stared at him.
—Adrián, I prefer to be direct. Do you have your own apartment?
The question took him by surprise, but he didn't lose his composure.
—No.
—Car?
—No.
-Savings?
Adrian smiled sideways and responded with a simple:
-Neither.
The three refusals were daggers that would have brought down anyone else. But not him. He knew what he had, and that gave him a natural confidence.
Emily watched him intrigued.
—You're… very honest. Most of the guys I met on blind dates always exaggerated or lied.
"And what do they gain from that?" Adrian replied, pouring her water. "Sooner or later, the truth always comes out."
She took a bite of her salad and smiled.
—You're right. I like your openness. You know, I think we should go out a couple more times, see what happens.
Adrian raised an eyebrow.
—So fast? We've only been talking for half an hour.
Emily laughed, amused by his reaction.
—I know. But I'm practical. I'm 26, my parents are pressuring me to get married, and I'm not going to waste time with someone I don't like. I like you. You're handsome, straightforward, and that's enough for me to want to try.
Adrian didn't know what to say right away. Part of him was intrigued by this straightforward woman; another part saw it as a simple game to please his mother.
The meal continued in a light, even convivial atmosphere. They talked about music, movies, and each other's favorite places in New York. Emily was fun and sociable, with a fresh sense of humor that contrasted with the seriousness of the blind date she'd imagined.
In the end, when the bill arrived, Adrian paid without leaving any other option.
"I'm treating today." His smile was firm.
As they left the restaurant, Emily walked beside him toward the sidewalk. Before saying goodbye, she placed a hand on his arm.
—Adrián, I like you. I don't know if this will be love, but… at least I know we won't be strangers after today.
He looked at her with a spark of curiosity in his eyes.
—That's a start.
They parted with a handshake that lasted a little longer than usual. Then they went their separate ways under the midday Manhattan sun.
Adrian got into his Maserati and started the engine. Through the windshield, he watched her drive off into the crowd.
"Interesting..." he murmured to himself, with a smile.