You would have say that this is a perfectly normal Tuesday – where people go to work and do their shits – except that this is not a normal Tuesday, today is Valentine's Day. The day where all the singles silently hoped that the 24 hours would slip by as fast as you can say 'love'.
You silently hoped, too, that just maybe, you wouldn't be single anymore after so many dry years that you've wasted on nothing but works and foods, not even one second on romance. And just maybe, tonight is the night you could say goodbye to all those crappy nights you spent eating chips while switching between channels on the TV.
Marie's was the best place to which you want a perfect date but not an expensive one, sort of. You agreed to go on a blind date your friend had set you up with but it seems like you've already been blinded by the PDA-ing of other couples before you even started the date.
"Jesus, get a room!" Someone yelled from across the room. How many people has the nerve to make out in a public place where people serve foods? Well, there's two already, and neither one of them was you.
You stir the tea in front of you, even though it only contains a few sip before the cup is empty. And after an eternity of waiting, it is official to say, that you have been stood up on Valentine's. (That's something you don't get to brag about every day.) You sighed and stared aimlessly at the void across you, where your "date" should've been sitting at and laughing his heart out with you. You raised your hand for the bill so you could go home and stuff some more chips to muffle your sadness. No one came. No one came to give you the bill. Maybe they didn't want to be the one to cut your sad tension and ask about your date with the air. Or maybe you're just too sad for them to deal with on a Valentine's Day.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't help but notice your desperate screams for help." The voice was deep and smooth, like the creams smear on top of a cake, so smooth. The accent was heavier on all the vowels, British.
You lift your head up and a beautiful face came into your sight. Though you weren't sure that beautiful are for men but that was what best describe this charm in front of you. This man was wearing a black sheer button down shirt, which was barely covering his chest with only two of the buttons in the middle fastened, and black jeans. Curly short hair that bounces like the ones you see in shampoo commercials. His arm were covered in tattoos, a mermaid, an anchor, a lock and a key. His shoulders were really broad too, like he has been working out lately. He was also extremely tall, from your position, the goddamn legs that were too long for any human being. Maybe he's not a mortal.
"I did not scream." You looked away when he caught you staring at him like a prey.
"Well then we must be telepathic," he chuckled and sat down across you. Where your blind date should be sitting at.
"More like tele-pathetic." You finally looked at him, which didn't help much because you were staring at him and observing every single minor detail on his face again.
"No offense, Miss, but I'm not the one who's sitting all alone in a booth on Valentine's Day," he smiled, and for the first time you notice his dimples. It was so deep that you find yourself resisting the urge to poke it.
"You know, just because you said 'no offense' doesn't mean it's not offensive," you said, pulling your brows into a frown.
He looked down at his hands which are now locked together and clutched tightly on the table. "I'm sorry, have I offended you?" He looked up and smiled again. Gosh, those dimples.
"No," you said, "but I am mad that you are sitting on my boyfriend's lap and intruding our date."
He looked around him frantically, "oh gosh, I'm squashing him, aren't I?"
You laughed at his silliness and he laughed too. He laughed. It was the most angelic sound you've heard of, which is a surprise for someone who doesn't believe in angels.
"I'm Harry. Harry Styles," he said, once the laughter had subsided.
"Harry Styles." You repeated his name and let it roll out against your tongue. "Sounds like a pop star's name. The one that joins a boy band and became rich all in one night."
"Well, that would've been a complete different story. And I would've wish that's true. But, uh, no," he chuckled. "I bake goodies, though. Like cakes and cookies. And also, cook a hella good dish."
"Oh wow, what a dream man. Well, for me. Because I surely do spend my entire year with foods. I had a dream, my husband was a Subway sandwich. I really like that dream." His laughter burst out again once he heard you joked. Not the psychotic kind, the kind that you wish you could capture and savor it.
"I own a café, actually. Um – "he fished into his pockets and got out a card "– here's my card. Do drop by often, bunny." Bunny. "The coffees there are amazing, well of course they do, I made them. It's decorated to make you feel like home."
He handed the card to you and you took it like it was the most fragile thing on earth. Then he left, just as fast as he appeared. For a second you thought you were dreaming, you thought that the blind-date-not-showing-up thing got you delusional. You looked down at the card held gently in your hands, a smile crept up your face and pulling the corner of your mouth from ear to ear. Just maybe.
❀
"I'm home," you announced as you step into the house you shared with your friend.
"Jesus, you don't need to say that every time you step in," your roommate said.
"It feels good to be home. And announcing it." You plopped down next to him on the couch.
"How was the date?" He practically turn sideways to face you, even though the whole surrounding was dark and you can only make out the shadows and outlines of each other's face.
"Um, yeah, it was good. Most people in the room thought I got stood up because I didn't told them that he's invisible," you joked.
"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry," he said. "Did he say why?"
"I don't think you understand how blind dates works." You lulled your head back so it leans on the couch.
You could faintly see him rolling his eyes by the light that's casting from the TV screen. "How could you get stood up? I bragged to him about you. I told him you're pretty, very cute, active, smart. . ."
"There's a difference between bragging and lying," you laughed.
He gasped, "you take that back."
You laughed even harder when he gasped. He gasped rather oddly and he doesn't know that. "Okay, um, exaggerating?"
"Okay, but still. You're pretty." He turned away and huffed.
Your hand slowly grazed his face gently, he likes it. He told you that the first time you did it. "Maybe it's unreliable coming from a gay?'
"That's rude, we gays have better taste than them." He rolled his eyes and lean his cheek into your palm.
You giggled and grazed his cheek, "I'm sorry."
"Like, what do straight guys want? I don't know. For me, cute and fuckable shall do."
You laughed heartedly and took away your hand to swat him playfully on his shoulder, "oh my God. Jesus, calm down."
He laughed too, which was so much different than Harry's. "Alright, this cutie needs his beauty sleep. Good night, don't stay up to late thinking about that asshole. I love you." He kissed you gently on your cheek, just like every night he did, and left you alone on the couch.
You could hear him mumble something about "what kind of assholes does that" as he walked up the stairs, you grin to yourself at his reaction.
You didn't feel like watching TV that night. Your mind was too busy preoccupied with thoughts of Harry. You took out his card, and finally read what's typed on it. At the bottom of the card, you saw a series of number written in the corner and was signed of by him. You typed in the same number in to your contacts and put him under the name "Dream Man". Which would be weird and hard to explain if he sees this. You didn't plan on telling your roommate about Harry, which would be very clear why, because you were so sure that a guy like Harry must've at least attracted both genders.
You were also wishing you wouldn't dream about your Subway sandwich husband anymore – maybe one last episode on how you two get a divorce – you wanted to dream about Harry. Only Harry and you. In your dreams, where it's peaceful and quiet. Only Harry.