She was supposed to meet me here at six.

I looked at my watch with the futile hope that when I looked back, she would be standing there before me. Six-twenty. I foolishly checked my phone in the vain hope that she had responded to one of my messages. Zero unread.

Begrudgingly, I accepted it—I had been stood up. Who would be so heartless as to stand up a boy on Valentine's Day? This must've all been some game to her. I had got all dressed-up, had bought flowers, had booked a dinner—all for nothing. I could only blame myself for getting my hopes up.

At this point, there was little else to do but call Mom for a ride home. She picked up quickly. "What is it, honey?"

"Jessica didn't come," I explained. "I'm gonna need you to come pick me up."

Mom was aghast, and didn't say anything for a moment. "What?! She stood you up? ${name}, that's terrible! I'll be there right away. Just stay put, okay?"

And with that, she hung up before I could get another word in. With a sigh, I sat down on the curb and held my head in my hands. The din of the restaurant behind me served as a persistent reminder of what I was missing out on.

I looked around at the streetlights. It seemed like every other person walking past was holding someone's hand or had their arm around someone. I couldn't help but wonder how many people out there had actually made a real connection tonight. Soon I turned my gaze to the ground before I grew scornful of the couples.

As I waited for my ride home, I realized that she was taking longer than I expected. Was my mother not coming either, I worried. As if she would just leave me here—I quickly discarded the absurd thought. Eventually, my doubts where calmed when I saw Mom's car pull up to a parking space. I stood up from my slump, relieved and grateful to go home. However, I swiftly learned that my mother had other plans.

With a click-clack of heels, Mom exited her car and astonished me with her getup. She wore a thin crimson dress—which seemed a bit tight on her—that neared the floor. Silver bands hung from her ears, and her chestnut-brown hair was tidily kept in a curled ponytail. A makeup tinged her lips in a red that matched her dress, and instead of her usual glasses, tinted contacts made her eyes seem dazzlingly sky-blue. But why in the world would she get all dressed-up?

"Mom, what's with all... this?" I asked, gesturing vaguely towards her. "Aren't we going home?"

"No, no, you can't go home," she tutted. "You've got a Valentine's Day dinner, remember?"

I sighed and shook my head. "Mom, I told you, she stood me up. I can't have a Valentine's dinner without a date. Let's just go home and—"

Mom put a finger to my lips. "${name}, honey, listen. I'll be your date for tonight!"

Completely unimpressed, my eyebrows furrowed. "Mom, that's crazy. Are you making fun of me?"

"No, no, not at all!" she assuaged. "I just wanted to cheer you up. A nice young man like yourself deserve a nice night, don't you think?"

Her gentle smile was disarming, and I did agree that I wanted a nice Valentine's Day. However, I still wasn't persuaded. "C'mon, this is embarrassing. Having dinner with you on V-Day? That's just silly."

"Oh, come on now," Mom said, sticking her elbow out expectantly. "Let's just go in there and have a good time, alright? My treat."

I realized there was no escaping Mom's overbearing kindness. Hiding a roll of my eyes, I hooked my arm in hers, which made her beam with giddiness.