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walker's pov:
"charlie, i have no fucking idea what to wear," i complain to charlie, who is perched cross-legged on my bed, cradling the cat tanner found last week and decided we needed to nurse back to health even though it was perfectly fine.
the cats name is portia and she's an absolute menace, but only around me. i'm convinced that she's actually inhabited by the vengeful spirit of a cranky old lady who hates everything except y/n's music. which is convenient because i've always got one of her albums on repeat. i think portia and i have come to an agreement where she will treat me with something almost like respect as long as y/n is playing in the background. it's more like a truce and i can't tell if it's temporary or not. i have to say though, the cat's got good taste.
"which one," i say to charlie who is now distracted by something on his phone.
"hey, chuckles, pay attention this could be my future wife on the line!"
charlie snorts and then reconsiders, "sorry, you might be on to something with that future wife thing, though."
my eyes widen and i give him a look.
"you know who she is, don't you."
"yup."
"wanna tell me?"
"nope."
i slump, defeated.
"that one," charlie points at the outfit in my left hand. it's jeans, a graphic tee, a puffer jacket, and some blue jordans.
i give it a good look. it has to be at least better than presentable if this really is my future wife i'm going on a blind date with.
"ok," i say, deciding that this is this look i'm going for. she probably, hopefully won't run when she sees it, so that's a plus.
i head out of my room and into the bathroom to change. after i've changed, i fix the few curls that had gotten out of place when i was rummaging through my room for clothes. then i eye myself in the mirror. is this really the face of a teenage heartthrob? i leave the room to find charlie not on my bed anymore and now curled up on the floor. tiktok sound emanating from his phone. i don't know how he can see the screen with it that close to his face. i kick his leg.
"yes?"
i do a "princess twirl" as charlie adoringly calls it, to showcase my outfit. he sits up and gives me a good, thoughtful look. or at least, i hope he's being thoughtful. i can never tell.
"yeah, probably good enough. i don't know what her type is. not even sure she's been in a relationship before," he muses.
huh. i've been trying to picture this girl in my head since last night and i keep coming up blank. it feels like she's eluding me. i have no information about her whatsoever. some very aggressive knocking at my front door makes both charlie and i jump. we both head down the hall to the front door and i open it to find xochitl, smirking and twirling her car keys around her fingers. at the curb, i can see momona and mckenna beaming at me from the car. i'm almost certain that this car ride will be the equivalent of taking an impromptu dip in the river styx. i reluctantly head out to the car, pulling open the back door, since momona is comfortably situated in the passenger seat.
"so," she says, turning her head to look at me, "are you ready to meet the girl of your dreams?"
"i don't have dreams," i retort.
"womp, womp," xochitl says, sliding into the drivers seat and starting the car, "save your tears for someone who actually cares."
brutal.
"ok, well do i at least look presentable?"
"i guesssss," mckenna eyes me.
"what? is there something wrong?" i ask, suddenly self-conscious.
"no, you look great, walk. don't stress," momona reassures me.
"where are we going again?" i ask.
"just this cute little restaurant," mckenna says, "you both will love it. it's italian!"
ok. helpful. we drive for about ten more minutes. small talk fills the air. momona berates me about some audition my agent may or may not have sent me, xochitl demands to know whether or not i'm free to hang out with her and brady this weekend, mckenna is busy texting someone. probably aryan. when we finally pull up, i see that mckenna is right. i do love it. it's a cute little italian restaurant. the sign is in big cursive lettering. an italian word i can't pronounce. it looks homely. through the window i see an old couple, sharing spaghetti. a lively young woman mans the counter, barking orders to the kitchen. i smile. xochitl scans the area, squinting to make out the figures.
"shit. i forgot we said we would pick up y/- i mean, your date, at five," xochitl says.
"it's ok, i texted dior, they should be on their way," momona says, waving her phone in the air like it's the solution to everyone's problems.
xochitl sighs in relief.
"ok walker, get out, this is your stop," mckenna shoos me out of the car.
i glare at her, but obey. then i knock on momona's window.
"do i have a reservation?" i ask her.
"uhhh, yes, it's under scobell, for two," xochitl shouts over her.
i nod, wave goodbye, then turn around and head inside. i give the hostess my reservation and she leads me to my table. it's outside, in view of the almost setting sun. just two seats, across from each other. a red checkered table cloth draped over the table. i take a seat and wait. the longer i wait, the more nervous i get. i've never been nervous over a girl, but something about this girl. this girl that i don't even know, is making my breathing quicken and my pulse speed up. who could she be? and also is she going to get here soon? someone walks up beside me.
"hey, walker, right?"
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lwk hate this.
i am obsessed with eternal sunshine. like it's been on repeat it's so good.
also sorry this took forever to get out i have been swamped in schoolwork and extracurriculars and my own existential dread
