I Dream of Disney (Volume II)

19 - The Blind Date [The Incredibles! Buddy 'Syndrome' Pine x Reader] Part I

Part I - The Date

"A blind date? You're such a freak."

Those were the same words that I've been whispering to myself for the past half hour. The words had their variations. Sometimes they were Who even goes on blind dates anymore? Other times they were What the heck am I doing? I'm going home to watch Doctor Who. I couldn't argue the logic behind them, knowing that there were countless dating apps, matchmaking services and who-knows-what-else to connect two people before they'd ever have to meet in person. They could tell you your date's name, age, star sign and shoe size before you ever needed to meet face-to-face. It was bizarre that I was even considering showing up to a restaurant with only a name, a reservation and a plucky sense of optimism to get me through the night.

But I couldn't admit that to her. She's my best friend. If I ever let her know, she'd never let me live it down. She still reminded everyone and anyone of that time when I was seven and I got my head stuck in the staircase spindles on a dare. It's almost like I can hear her voice now. Hey, (Y/n)? Remember that time you tried to go on a blind date? That was such a disaster, wasn't it? Let me now describe it to you, minute-by-minute, so you can relive the embarrassment all over again. You're welcome!

So I'm honour-bound to scoff into the phone and pretend like nothing's bothering me.

"He's probably a really nice guy," I defended.

"Excuse me? Are you going on a date with him or writing him a Linked-In profile?" My best friend, Margot, had a very specific way of speaking. With her asthma, each syllable made her sound as if she was heaving through a crinkling paper bag. It got worse as she became more agitated. I know that she's worried about me. Or she wants to kill me.

Hers was a conflicting friendship.

"Astrid said we have a lot in common."

"Astrid would say anything to get rid of you, you sweet idiot. She's your biggest competition!" Margot's voice warbled, "(Y/n), please come back to the apartment. This isn't a safe environment. I'll - I'll help set up a Tinder profile for you. Nice, safe Tinder."

My head is buried into the palms of my hands, so my laughter comes out as low and muffled.

"You're far too sheltered," I tease. "All of you - you charismatic, attractive people who can get dates in real life without a screen or an online profile. You're the real freaks."

"Keep telling yourself that, sweetie." Her voice is so expressive, I can almost hear the eye-roll, "If you think this date is such a good idea, then why are you hiding out in the bathroom stall? Hmm?"

I paused. How had she known that I was currently huddled in the second bathroom stall, pumps kicked off and legs pulled up so that no one could see my feet sticking out, and handbag pressed to my sternum? Suspiciously, I glance around as if she was waiting for me somewhere like a spider primed for the kill. But it's my voice that's given me away and the slight acoustics of the large room and tall ceilings. After all, she majored in music education and composition. She had an ear for these things where I hadn't.

"It's a very nice bathroom."

And so it was. The same could be said about the restaurant, which must've at least shown that my date had good taste. It was one of those beautifully-designed sky bars, with an open-air lounge that offered a panoramic view of the city. It was very difficult to find a reservation at a place like this, but my date had somehow accomplished it. I, of course, hadn't had much of an opportunity to soak in the view yet. When I arrived at the restaurant, I marched up confidently to the table - somehow arriving ten minutes early because I'd been more nervous than I feel comfortable to admit - and then ducked into the bathroom as soon as I saw an empty seat and his name on the reservation. Pine.