"You can't be fucking serious." My teeth were snapped shut, a tough whisper passing my lips.
"That little fucker!" My hand covered my mouth realising I was in a public place, a few odd stares my way which I ignored.
Deciding that going home and crying in loneliness yet again was the perfect option, I started my walk home. The restaurant that I was meant to meet my date wasn't that far from my house, maybe 10 or 15 odd minutes.
As I continued to walk my eyes swelled with tears, this was the third date I had been stood up on. Was it me? Was I the problem?
"Do you smoke weed?" My head ripped away from the pond beside me to the conversation on the other side of the road.
"What no, I really have to go." His accent was foreign, definitely not British. He sounded distressed as he tried to push past the taller man only to be stopped.
"Do you want some?" The man shook his head again, still attempting to get past. He was walking the same way as me, but on the other side of the street.
I tried to ignore the conversation between the two men, not wanting to be involved for obvious reasons. But there was something about the men that made me stop. I looked down at my phone, standing underneath a lamp post acting like I was waiting for someone.
"Give me the phone." His words were blunt and harsh. I shivered slightly at the deep voice.
"No, no open it."
"I can't do that sorry." Was this man crazy?
"I said open it." An audible gasp could be heard from the other side of the road, my head shot up at the noise. Is that a knife? Holy fuck.
"And I said I can't." The pair had moved slightly closer to me as the shorter boy had attempted to walk past.
My brain had started my walk back to my house at the sight of the man's eyes meeting mine. Realising that I had to leave before I was taken as an accomplice to the boy my feet worked at a faster pace. Spotting the welcoming, rustic, brown door, my eyes crinkled into a smile.
"Help! Please let me in." My head spun and eyes widened at the sight. The short boy with a frantic plead on his face, trying to get into my home.
"Oh, yes quickly." A sigh of relief left his lips as he shuffled into my house. My hands made quick work on the doors locks.
"I have a spare bedroom you can stay in if you would like..."
"Alex, but my friends call me Quackity." His hand rose for me to shake, gladly taking it into my offering a warm smile.
"Well Alex, it's down the hall to the left. Would you like a cuppa before bed?"
"Oh no, I'm very tried."
"I must say Alex, you aren't from around here are you? American accent." His eyebrows raised at the observation.
"Kind of, I'm just visiting my friend George. He was meant to pick me up from the airport but instead made me catch the bus." Alex shook his head slightly.
"I can drive you to house tomorrow morning if you'd like?" My voice was soft at the memory of his tiredness.
"Oh that would be amazing! Thank you so much, I'm going to head to bed now though." I nodded watching as he walked off.
"Goodnight Alex."
