Annabelle hadn't wanted to burn the restaurant down initially.
In all honesty, she had been in a good mood. The food smelled great, the weather was perfect, and the boy she had met on Tinder looked like an absolute snack in all his pictures.
But t...
"So? He's probably never seen you in his life, and you'll never have to see him. Look. He skis. He probably lives in Antarctica."
"Okay, I..." Annabelle went to click the block button when his next message came through.
hey, don't u work in that bowling alley?
"Shit."
"Show me," Candy demanded. Then, peering over Annabelle's should, she paled. "Oh. Yeah. Shit."
"Now what?"
sorry if that was creepy lol. i promise i'm not a weirdo.
With a sigh, Annabelle began to type.
It's okay! I've gotten weirder lol.
really?
Yeah. My last date on Tinder tried to convince me he was ten years younger than he was, and used fake pictures of some model to get me to go on a date with him.
oh shit really? that's shit
Yeah, it sucked! But that's okay. You had any bad dates?
yeah. my last date and i had ice cream, and she got some peanut butter flavoured thing. and she learnt on that same date that she was allergic to peanuts
Oh shit. Was she okay?
she lived, dw. but told me it'd take her a while to go on another date lol
Candy cleared her throat. "You're thinking about going on a date with him, aren't you, Miss Annabelle?"
"Maybe."
Something else caught the prophet's gaze. She tapped on Annabelle's phone, flicking it back, so she could see the list of matches. Then, she pointed at the one man underneath that glowing golden tree, with his dark hair and easy grin.
"Who is that again?"
Annabelle felt her face burn up. "The Italian waiter I told you about."
"You're right. He is cute. Could you set me up with him?"
"He has a girlfriend, Candy. I already told you this."
"What does she have that I don't have?"
Annabelle considered pointing out that Candy was forty years older than him. Instead, she just shrugged, saying, "For a start, his current girlfriend isn't in a committed relationship with a pie recipe."
"Well."
"Well?"
Candy, for once, seemed at a loss of words. Instead, she grumbled something about the youth acting too sharp.
Annabelle turned back to her phone.
She wanted to message him so badly. But she just knew that his voice, his humour, his softness -- it would all charm her to a place she couldn't be. To a place that would hurt.
Instead, she went back to the skiing guy.
Hey, so what sort of music are you into?
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