Short Changed || #ONC2022

Chapter II

Annabelle had been through some shitty situations in the past.

Once, in the bowling alley, some guy had given her butt a little slap after she had served him a drink. Another time, she had been locked inside her apartment elevator for three whole hours with all her groceries. Hell, only yesterday, she had set off the building fire alarms after burning some popcorn in the microwave.

Each time, she had stayed calm. Composed. Unbreakable.

This time, however, as she stared at her Tinder date, she could only think of doing one thing.

"I need to go to the bathroom," she said.

Then, she jumped from her chair, flew past the waiter, tumbled and tripped over her flimsy sneakers as she found the bathroom—

And screamed.

It was just her, the bathroom mirrors, the vacant stalls behind her, and the pale blue lights that danced along the tiles. And yet, she was certain that the whole restaurant shook as the sound came lurching out of her mouth – high and sharp, like a freaking walking ambulance.

Catfished.

She had been catfished.

That guy she had been speaking to – nice forearms, a gentle smile, curly hair. Fake, fake, fake. What else was fake? Was he actually a surfer, like it had said on his profile? Or was he 'surfing' the internet instead of cascading through ocean waves?

Annabelle buried her face into her hands to muffle the next scream.

It's not that he was ugly. Sure, his face wasn't that chiselled and his hair could use a good wash, but he still had some decent features. The ginger streaks through his hair seemed nice, and he had a fun, hearty laugh.

But how could she possibly be on a date with someone who had been lying to her for the past few weeks? Wouldn't that lead to more possible lying in the future? What if he had a girlfriend already, and was only pretending to be single? What if he was a secret agent, trying to marry her so he could keep tabs on her for the government?

Wait.

Why would the government even want to keep tabs on her? She paid her tax on time. Mostly.

"Excuse me, miss. Are you okay?"

Annabelle whirled around.

It was the waiter from before, holding his hands up in surrender as he hovered by the bathroom door. In the glaring lights, he looked somehow different – his eyes were lighter, and his cheeks were even more flushed.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she answered.

He blinked twice. "You were screaming."

Annabelle felt her whole face pale. "Could you hear it?"

"Everyone could."

"Oh."

She knew she had screamed, but she hadn't realised it had been that loud. What were people outside thinking? Did they think she was crazy? Hysterical? Being attacked by a meat-eating spider?

She wondered if Al Moitzi had heard.

In a strange, cruel way, she hoped he had heard it. She hoped it would make him run away.

"What happened?" the waiter asked. "Was that your date?"

Annabelle made a face. "No. Yes. It's complicated."

"Well, are you on a date with him?"

"Yes."

"So... it's a date."