The Lucky Number

•Chapter 1•

A/N: The readers thoughts/ texts are in italics, Toms are bolded.
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Your phone vibrated on the table in front of you, but you resisted the urge to check the notification. It was one of your pet peeves when people used their phones during meals, so much as you wanted to- and GOD did you want to- the phone remained facedown. Normally, you were fine ignoring your phone when our with friends or family, but tonight was a challenge cause your date was so flipping boring and kept going on and on about himself.

He was chatting on about some protein shake that as going to give him a six pack... Blah, blah, blah. He'd only asked you maybe three questions through the entire dinner (and of course, he had insisted on inserting his own opinions). Basically, you we're almost at the point of just bailing- there was no way you'd ever go out with him again, but you also hated ditching half-way through and being rude. Even when the rudeness was totally justifiable... hence why you left the phone facedown.

I swear, if he tries to mansplain him me more time, that's it. I don't care about manners. I'm getting the heck out of here. Your thought turned to how much better your night would have been if you'd just stayed home... mug of tea, pajamas, cozy, blankets.. ahhh.

Your phone vibrated again, jolting you back to reality. After a seconds hesitation, you picked the phone up, rudeness be damned. Before you had even entered your passcode, your date nasally voice mentioned one of your favourite movies, catching your attention for the first time that night.

"You've probably never seen Deadpool though. Girls aren't usually into those kind of movies. I guess. Too gory or something.

Your tone was curt as you responded "Uh, yeah. I did actually. I'm a big Marvel fan." You could already tell where this was going.

"Huh, bet you only went for Ryan Reynolds cause he's hot."

Toy rolled your eyes harshly and took the napkin from your lap and goosed it onto the plate in front of you. Enough of this bullshit.

"Ok, bud. As much as I'd love to hear more about your undoubtedly extensive knowledge of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, I'm going home before I do something I'll regret in the morning."

He held his hand up motioning for you to wait.
"Hey, hey, hey. We don't have to sleep together tonight- Im willing to wait until the second date if that's better for you."

Never underestimate the stupidity of idiots. You slowed your words down to partonizing tempo.
"Since you clearly lack the ability to identity subtle cues like tone of voice, I'm going to make it easier for you by quoting my good old friend Deadpool: 'some of the best love stories start with murder, and that's exactly what this is, a love story.' But I hate to break it to ya bud: you'd be the murder victim in this story: not the one who gets laid."

His eyebrows knit together, a scowl confronting his face. "What'd you just say to me?"

Great, now he cares about what I have to say.

"I did you a favour by asking you out. Not every guy would be into you, I don't mind big girls. And you've got the nerve to treat me like-"

Grabbing your purse snd phone from the table, you got up, spun on your heels, and ran for the Goodson hills, not caring to stay for the rest of his petty, hurt white boy rant. I can't believe I wasted a perfectly good outfit on this date. Fuck him.

Outside, you hastily ordered a Lyft home, then checked the texts you'd received a few minutes ago during dinner. You swiped open the message app and noticed it wasn't from a saved contact. Probably just a wrong number.