Mismatched [IN PROGRESS]
Read the entire Mismatched story here!
PART 1
I can’t believe she actually talked me into going out on a day like today. I don’t get why we couldn’t just order in. Seriously, it’s hailing like crazy out there, but apparently Mexican food is more important than my life. Then again, I can’t really deny my little sister anything right now anyway; it’s been “Joey, I want chocolate” and “Joey, I want a magazine” almost always followed by a “I WANT IT NOW, JOEY!” ever since she broke her foot. Geez, it’s just a foot, it’s not like she’ll never walk again. Of course, if you heard her scream you’d never know that.
And yet, here I am, driving through this torrential hail on my way to get Mexican food because Miranda wanted some. I’ve almost slipped off the road three times already and I’ve gotten honked at over fifteen times for going too slowly. Still, I’d rather get there in one piece than risk going faster just because people are rude.
Finally, I arrive at Miranda’s favourite restaurant. Turning up my collar to minimize the amount of hail going down my shirt, I run inside. Shutting the door behind me, I turn and almost bowl over someone.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
It’s a young woman. She’s holding a take-out bag in one hand and her wallet in the other. Everything about her seems mismatched, from her drenched heels to her pyjama pants to her oversized trench coat to her bright red lipstick. Either she’s going to a pyjama party or a fancy gala.
“Ah, so this is what an Oscars afterparty looks like,” I say, a small smile creeping over my lips.
She stares at me for a moment, as if confused if I’m joking or not. Before I can assure her that I am, she says, “I’m assuming you’ve never been.”
“Have you?”
“No,” she says with a chuckle before looking down at herself. “Huh, I do look like a mess, don’t I?”
My cheeks turn bright red. “I, uh, didn’t mean that,” I protest, but she shrugs.
“I mean, I do,” she says. “Anyway, I’ll let you get your food before it gets cold. It was nice meeting you.”
She slides past me and I pick up the scent of perfume. I can’t help but turn and watch her leave. Fearlessly, she strides out into the hail to her car.
Finally, I force myself to turn away. I walk up to the counter and absentmindedly pay for my food.
“Hey, you okay?” the cashier asks as I turn to leave.
I shake my head, staring at the place the woman had been standing, and whisper, “I don’t know, dude, I think I’m in love.”
PART 2
I wish I could say that I was totally cool about falling in love at first sight. I wish I could say that I didn’t try finding her on social media and when I eventually did, I wish I could say that I didn’t stalk her every platform religiously.
Unfortunately, as you’ve probably gathered by now, I can only wish for those things. As much as I tried to hide my creepy stalker habits, Miranda eventually picked up on it and used her special “I’m-injured-so-you-have-to-do-everything-I-say” power to make me tell her everything. And you know what? I told her. Because there’s no one else for me to tell.
Still, even though Miranda kept bugging me to, I never contacted her. As far as I could tell from my intensive investigating, this woman–Ava Wilcox–is single, but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to be that weirdo who randomly messages her over social media to ask her out. No, instead I’ll be the weirdo who continuously stalks her until I eventually get over my stupid high school crush.
So here we are, three weeks later, in yet another hailstorm, driving to get Miranda some more Mexican food. I’m beginning to think that hailstorms give Miranda a craving for Mexican food.
I pull in and, once again, brace myself against the hail as I race inside. I shake myself off and head to the counter. Thoughts of Ava linger in the back of my mind, but I shake them away; the chances of her being here right now are near impossible, so it’s best not to get my hopes up.
Still, the ring of the doorbell makes me jerk up my head, heart pounding. But it’s just a family walking in, their little boy crouching down to examine the fallen pieces of hail in front of him.
I pay for my food before lingering near the napkin stand, my heart still optimistic for some reason.
Finally, I accept the fact that she’s not coming. I said it myself; the chances of her being here right now are near impossible.
The glare of headlights envelops me and I squint, almost dropping the bag. When the lights turn off, I see a familiar face peering back at me through the hail.
A grin spreads across my face. I did say that the chances are near impossible, after all.
PART 3
“Let’s go to that Mexican place for dinner today.”
I glance at Ava. “Mexican again?”
“You know I get cravings during hailstorms,” she says, walking over to join me on the couch. “Plus, Miranda’s probably going to ask you to go get some anyway.”
Sure enough, mere seconds later, Miranda’s voice echoes down the hallway. “Joey, can you go pick up some Mexican food?”
“You do know you can drive to get it yourself, right?” I shout back, rolling my eyes at Ava. She just chuckles as she leans her head on my shoulder.
Miranda pops her head into the room. “Ava, tell my brother to get off his lazy butt to get us food.”
“Why are you getting her to do your dirty work for you?” I ask, simultaneously scowling at Miranda and pulling Ava closer to me.
“Because you actually listen to her,” Miranda says with exasperation.
“Hey, I listen to you plenty.”
“Fine, then you actually do what she asks.”
“I was basically your servant the entire time you were in a cast!”
“Ava.”
Ava looks up at me with a sparkle in her eye.
“Okay, fine,” I say with a sigh. “Let’s go.”
“I didn’t even say anything,” Ava says with amusement.
I hold my hand out to her with a smile. “You didn’t have to.”
PART 4
“Joey, why can’t you just tell me where we’re going?”
“It’s a surprise,” I chuckle.
My heart is out of control. Yes, partly because I’m deeply in love with this incredible woman, but also because I’m about to ask her to marry me.
Sure, we only met a few months ago, but if it’s true love then time is irrelevant, right? At least, that’s what Mom told me. Before she got divorced. Oh man, am I rushing into this?
The ring suddenly feels like a weight in my pocket. What if Ava doesn’t feel the same as me? What if she doesn’t even want to get married in the first place? Or worse, what if she does want to get married, just not to me?
“Ow! Joey!”
“Sorry!” I exclaim, leading her away from the pillar I’d just walked her into.
“Is the blindfold really necessary?” she asks.
“Yes.”
Worst case scenario, she says that she doesn’t want to marry me and breaks up with me and I never hear from her again.
Best case scenario, she marries me and we live happily ever after with our four children and three dogs in a cozy house in the country.
Screw it; I’m going to ask her.
I stop walking and gently take off Ava’s blindfold. She blinks to adjust to the light before looking around in wonder.
“Wow,” she breathes, “it’s beautiful here.”
I smile at the wonder on her face before getting down on one knee. Her hands fly to her mouth as she stares down at me.
“Ava Hanna Wilcox, I love you more than anything else in this world. Would you do me the honour of being my wife? Will you marry me?”
To be continued…