Jason V. smoothed the cloth napkin in his lap for the thirteenth time. He’d picked out the restaurant, a charming brunch spot with a courtyard that had an ivied-over wall and a fountain. He especially liked the fountain. He’d always felt at home in the water. The girl from Match had affirmed she loved hockey. “How about camping?” he’d typed, holding his figurative breath, wishing it weren’t a dealbreaker. The girl had replied that not only did she love camping, but she was an Appalachian Trail through-hiker. She did it all the time. All this plus being a season-ticket-holder for the New Jersey Devils. She was the girl of his dreams. But now she was thirteen minutes late and she hadn’t texted, hadn’t messaged him on Match. He tried to distract his shaking hands with the little stand-up cocktail menu. It was just past summer, his favorite season, and on into fall. The seasonal special was the Leaf Peeper, apple-pie moonshine and maple flavoring. He imagined leaf peeping with the girl, toodling up the East Coast, renting a romantic cabin. He tried to temper his expectations; the last twelve dates had ended in ghostings. The minutes ticked by and his knee bounced. “Sir, can I get you more water?” the kind waitress asked. Jason said yes, please. This seemed to be his fate no matter what he did. There would always be more water. Nothing but water.