A Very Tinder Christmas

Michael - 21 - Need someone to bring home for Christmas because I panicked and told my family I had a girlfriend and now they’re insisting that she comes on our annual Christmas trip with us. Must be okay with being called Rose. Must have a passport. ~A Christmas Competition 2nd Place Winner~


2. Chapter Two

Turns out that going to a small café right before Dead Week isn’t the smartest decision and finding a spot took a lot of effort, but as soon as I found a small table with two chairs tucked away towards the back, I quickly headed towards it and claimed the spot by putting my stuff down before grabbing my wallet and heading to get something that’ll keep me alive and kicking a little while longer.

“Double latte with vanilla and peppermint,” I said as I unzipped my wallet and handed the man behind the counter my card.

I waited to the side as other people ordered and as soon as my mug was sat down, I grabbed it carefully and slowly walked back to my table, trying to make sure that none of the drink splashed over the edge.

A few minutes into waiting for Michael, my phone buzzed with the message of, ‘I’m here, where are you?’

I looked around for a moment, trying to spot him, and as soon as I saw his dark hair, he spotted me, gave me the ‘wait a moment’ hand gesture and headed up towards the counter to assumingly get himself something to drink.

As soon as I had spotted him, my heart started pounding. It was just out of nerves. This wasn’t anything unusual; every time I went on a date with someone for the first time I get incredibly nervous as soon as they get near and I realize I’m actually about to have to talk to someone I’ve never meet in person before, though I knew that after about ten minutes the feeling would fade and things would feel more natural and less forced. And if things did continue to feel forced then I’d make sure there wasn’t a second date/whatever-this-was-considered.

A few minutes later, Michael started walking towards me and I took a deep breath as he settled himself down into the seat.

“Hi, I’m Michael,” he said, reaching his hand across the table.

I took it. “Kelsey.”

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