Meet Cute “I’d better run.” Daniel looked at his pocket watch, pushing his seat back. He and Alistair had decided to try out a new café for breakfast. They often ate together whenever Alistair’s schedule allowed it, whether that was at home or out in the city. As two young men living in Los Angeles, they liked to get out and about as much as possible.
Alistair nodded. “I’ve got the bill.”
“Thanks.” Daniel stood up, shrugging his jacket on. He and Alistair ate out so often they tended to alternate who paid each time. Alistair had a much higher salary than Dan himself but Dan still liked to pull his weight. Alistair was already generous enough for sharing his house with Dan.
“Work hard,” Alistair grinned.
“You know me: work hard, play hard,” Dan smiled back. “I’ll see you later.”
Alistair gave a single nod and then Dan left the café. He liked having Dan’s company when he was home. The two of them would often have (what they considered to be) intellectual conversations, which was refreshing after spending so much time with his teammates (who were not quite so intellectually stimulating). That was not to say he and Dan didn’t talk about other things. Somewhere along the way he and Dan had grown close, which was unusual for Alistair who had never been one to have particularly close friendships with people, let alone with other males but as the two of them had evolved and matured, they seemed to have even more in common than they had back at school. Alistair had known Chuck Fintoc from a young age, having had mutual friends and thus being forced to spend time together and the two had never been fond of one another, so it was strange to think he was now best friends with Chuck’s little cousin.
Alistair leant back in his chair and pulled a small notebook out of his inside pocket, opening it up to study the plays he had scribbled down from the last training session with his team.
“Excuse me, Miss,” Ali grabbed the attention of the waitress as she walked past his table. “Could I get a refill, please?”
The waitress turned around and looked at him but Alistair’s attention was already back on his book.
“I think you should ask the waitress,” the supposed waitress replied, with a notable French accent.
“Oh sorry,” Alistair glanced at her, realizing his mistake. “You look just like the-” He broke off as he finally gave the girl his full attention. “You look nothing like the waitress.” He smiled. “You’ll have to forgive me.”
“That waitress must be at least two dress sizes bigger than me,” the girl said with a hint of a smile upon her face. “I don’t know if I can forgive you.”
Alistair’s smile grew wider. There was something refreshing about the girl’s honesty. “How about I get you a coffee to make up for it?”
“I believe that benefits you more than myself.”
Again with the directness, but in such a naive manner. He couldn’t refrain from smiling. “Ah, you wouldn’t say that if you knew me.” Alistair stood up. “Alistair Johnson, pleased to make your acquaintance.” He reached for her hand and kissed it.
The blonde raised her eyebrows as though to suggest nonchalance, but Alistair could have sworn there was a faint pinkness in her cheeks that hadn’t been there before. “Chloé Cloutier, and I haven’t yet decided if I feel the same way.”
“Well, Miss Cloutier,” Alistair pulled out a chair for her and gestured that she sit down. “Allow me to help you make that decision.”
Chloé Cloutier took the seat and Alistair hadn’t realised just how much he wanted her to until she did. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her face. Her eyes were two blue beacons of energy and the faint blush still apparent in her fair cheeks implied both innocence and curiosity. Her golden hair parted right in the centre of her crown, shaping her delicate face with such symmetry it seemed almost as though she could not be real. She seemed nothing like the girls he had dated in the past and everything like the girls he had admired in his more honourable youth, yet so much more captivating. Whoever said nobody’s perfect had never met Chloé Cloutier.