“Mismatched”

Author’s Note: This is a Take Ten to Write story and has not been proofread for errors. If I feel inspired or if there’s interest in the story, I’ll post a revised, edited, and extended version at a later date. Happy reading!

Prompt: “Mexican food.” — suggested by Bob

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.”

Final Comments: This one was harder to write than I thought it would be, but it was fun writing a different type of interaction. I almost feel like this could be another multi-part story.

Overall Rating: 🙂