xii. 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐨

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Real Life!gina

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Real Life!
gina

TRUTHFULLY, Gina hadn't been on a date since two years ago. It just wasn't her thing. But oh, did she hope that this one was.
One last look in the full-length mirror besides the entry door to her new apartment on the outskirts of Los Angeles.
One last quick text in the group chat. I'm on my way rn!
And then she was out the door.

The streets bustled with people, which wasn't unusual, but it still overwhelmed Gina to a certain extent. Moving to LA after college may have been a good idea at first, but now she realised that having such a big change (from rural San Francisco to lively Los Angeles) was quite overwhelming. Nonetheless, she enjoyed this new life ─ and her part-time job at a restaurant down the street. This was the step between college and NASA, and she enjoyed it quite well. The change wasn't stopping, though, as she had a hair appointment tomorrow to cut her hair short. For some, this may have no significance, but for Gina, who had barely ever cut her hair ever, this was another big girl thing.

Gina loved being a walker. Anywhere she could, she would walk. Taking her bike was also an option, but not right now in this city, because she didn't own one here.
Throughout the entire 30-minute walk from her apartment to the café, a smile was plastered onto her face. Well, that was until she bumped into someone.

“Oh, shit, sorry!” A deep voice exclaimed as Gina stumbled back a few steps due to the impact. And also the fact that this man had just poured his steaming hot coffee down her favorite t-shirt.
She stared down at the disaster, then up at the man. He was a little older, maybe in his thirties, and had black hair. “No, no, it's fine, it's just a shirt.” My favorite one. With which I was supposed to go on a date.

“I'm so sorry! I'm sure I can fix this up,” the man said and began looking for a napkin in his pockets.
“It's all good.” I'm gonna have third-degree burns, but at least I have a high pain tolerance.
I have a jacket in my bag. Don't worry 'bout it.
Gina tried to smile. She really did, but it looked like a lopsided evil grin. I'm sorry you don't have a coffee anymore.”

𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑, 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐄; t. blythWhere stories live. Discover now