Page 14 of Meet Cute

“Okay, uh… Um…” Blinking, Finn taps at the wheel a few times before pulling into a nearby parking lot. “Maybe start here? I-I don’t know… I haven't really looked for a cat before…”

Laughing weakly, I climb out of his car and take a deep breath. “Me neither.” Beelining straight for the dumpster, I begin poking around despite the fact I know in my heart that my cat would not want to lounge in literal garbage.

“Chalupa!” Finn’s warm baritone voice shouts from behind me, hands cupped around his mouth. It hits me that up until now I’ve never heard him yell, and even then this whole thing doesn’t quite feel like yelling. More akin to loud talking, if that makes sense. “Here, boy!”

No cat in the dumpster. No cat somewhere among the concrete of the parking lot, and no cat in the little wooded area by my apartment. Three whole hours pass and he doesn’t show. It was a stupid idea, but the little voice in the back of my head was really hoping it would work.

What a joke. It’s nearly five in the morning and I’m exhausted. I haven’t eaten in forever and I feel disgusting. My outside matches my inside, at least.

“We aren’t gonna find him,” I mumble solemnly. “It’s late. I’m sure you wanna get some sleep.”

Finn frowns at me, brows dropping sadly. “I don’t work tomorrow. We can look a l-little longer—”

“I’m done for tonight.” The way I cut him off is a little curt, but I really am done. Done with everything, honestly. “We aren’t gonna find him. This is stupid.” My stomach rumbles loud enough for both of us to hear.

I really hate the way he’s gawking at me right now. Big sad eyes and the smallest pout that makes my heart race in a confusing way. “Okay. U-Um… Do you want to grab something to eat, then? B-Before I drop you off?”

“Nothing’s gonna be open.”

“I know a diner. Twenty four hours, uh, retro place.”

Do I want to go eat greasy diner food? No, not really. But Finn probably does, and he already sacrificed so much of his time to help me try and fix my own mistake. It’s the least I could do.

Groaning weakly, our eyes meet. “Yeah, okay. That sounds fine.”

“I-I’m really sorry about your cat, Duncan.” Finn steps closer, tugging on his fingers. “I… Ugh, I-I wish I was better at comforting people.”

“Don’t worry.” Without thinking I reach out and pat his head. His cheeks turn a bashful shade of pink so fast it almost doesn’t seem real. “Let’s go eat.”

Gulping, Finn follows behind me with all the mannerisms of a dazed animal searching for mama. His arms are glued to his sides, and it’s sort of cute how he layered a t-shirt with a game character on top of his long-sleeve. “Y-Yeah, okay.”

The drive over is further out than I expected, but even at dusk the diner looks gorgeous. Blue arrow signs lit up vividly in the dark, with lots of windows to fit its wide exterior.

When my sneakers make contact with the black and white checkered floor it feels like I’ve been transported back in time. With bright cherry red booths that really make it all pop and dark turquoise walls, it's hard to focus on one thing thanks to all the old photos and bright ads sprawled across the place.

It might seem mundane, but there’s so much beauty to be found in the simplest of places. I’m still going to be miserable when I get home, but at least for half an hour I can forget about how my life is continuously finding new ways to go downhill.

“For two?” A waitress with shiny blonde hair and the perfect retro dress approaches us. My adorably awkward friend nods, gripping the edges of his shirt in what I assume is some form of self soothing.

Back when I actually had dreams and aspirations, I thought I’d do a lot more with my life. Social work. Guidance counseling. I just wanted to help people, which is ironic seeing as I can’t even help myself.

Sliding into the booth, the first thing I notice on the menu is the ridiculously wide selection of milkshakes. From the classics—vanilla and chocolate—to more out-there ones like caramel pecan or cherry cola, each flavor makes me realize how hungry I actually am.

When I get some food in me I’m going to have to face the music that is my best friend. I really fucked up by leaving her in the dark. That’s fine. It’s fine. I’ll deal with it later. Everything can be dealt with later.

ELEVEN

“I think things will be okay,” Finn offers hopefully while chewing on a french fry. He sounds like he believes it, which oddly enough makes me want to believe it too. “Chalupa has to come home. He has to.”

I groan. “Maybe. Fuck, it’s just… All I had to do was close the window. I swear, I keep closing it but somehow it’s always open.”

With his features twisted into concern, Finn scratches at his cheek. “That’s… bad. Um, you… A-Are you gonna be okay?”

Taking the last bite of my burger, I shrug in response. “Maybe. Probably. Hopefully.” Weak laughter follows in an attempt to make that sentence less pathetic. “It’ll be okay. I really appreciate this. This whole… whatever this was. I do feel better.”

Again with that smile that just lights up my heart. It’s so stupid how one miniscule thing can make me feel so strongly, but when he stares at me like that I never want it to end. Maybe it’s only a fleeting crush, but it feels nice. I wanna keep the feeling as long as I can.

“Can I get you guys anything else?” The waitress from earlier approaches, twirling her hair around her finger as she grins eagerly at me—back turned to Finn entirely. “How about some dessert?”