chef -g-

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by hesangell

by hesangell

your eye color- (y/e/c)

You sit on the chair, waiting for your supposed date. You've been waiting here for half an hour now.

You wait for a few minutes more before you decide that you've been stood up. Great.

You get up from you seat, and you hear a voice, "Hi, how did you like the food?"

You turn around and see the most good-looking man ever. "Hello?"

"Oh, I didn't eat any food..." you answer nervously.

"Why not?"

"Well, my date just stood me up," You answered, an exasperated sigh leaving your lips.

"Why would he-" He stops for a split second.

"Your date, don't know who you're into, no judge though," He continues, raising his eyebrows.

"No, it's okay, go on. I'm into guys by the way," You say, asking him to continue.

He wiggles his eyebrows and grins. You roll my eyes playfully. "Anyway, why would he stand you up? Your warm smile, your kind, (y/e/c) eyes, your cute personality in the 5 seconds that I know you. All of you seems amazing."

You try to stop the crimson colour reaching your cheeks. You give him a smile. "Thank you," you say, trying not to stutter.

"Anytime. Now, come on. There is a date that needs to make up for the one you lost," he says.

You raise your eyebrows to say, 'hold up.'

"I don't even know your name?"

"Dolan. Grayson Dolan." He says, in a very James Bond way, if that makes sense.

"I'm, (y/n)."

"Pleasure to meet you."