All the couples that Alaia Repond has gotten together have stayed happily together, and at this point, she really should consider matchmaking as a profession. So when her close friend Ollie asks her to set up a friend of his, she's more than happy t...
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Franco rings the doorbell not too long after Alaia reads Ollie's last message.
"Coming!" she says, and Franco hears her footsteps just before she opens the door. "Hey!" she says, smiling as she greets him - it's almost as if she wasn't having an existential crisis moments ago.
He's dressed in a white t-shirt and khaki pants, and she notices a new piece of jewellery on his wrist that accompanies the red bracelet he never takes off - it's a beaded one, and she assumes it must've been given to him by a fan.
"Cute bracelet," she hums, and she opens the door a little wider to let him in.
He closes the door behind him when he enters, and his eyes wander around the living room. There's some black-and-white art pieces on the walls, shelves of magazines and books, and a record player in the corner that's playing some soft music. He squints to look at the paintings on the wall, and he notices that they've got her name signed in the corner in silver ink.
"Do you paint?" Franco asks.
"I do. Most of the stuff on my wall's painted by me."
"You're really talented," he says, which makes Alaia smile. He also notices the cat curled up on her couch.
"What's your cat's name?"
"Mimi," she says, fixing herself and Franco a cup of water from the kitchen. She brings it over to him, sitting down on the couch. "Make yourself at home."
"Thanks," he replies, smiling at her.
"So, how was the date?" she asks, and Franco shrugs. Ah, so Soph wasn't a good match either, she thinks. Matchmaking him might be a little more difficult than she thought, for reasons other than her own personal feelings.
But for some reason, she felt relieved that they weren't compatible.
"It was fine," he says. "We had some good conversations, but kinda similar to Livia - I don't really think we're compatible together. She's nice though, like you said." Franco reaches a hand out to pet Mimi's fur, and the cat nuzzles up close to him.
"She likes you," Alaia says, about Mimi. "But back to the topic - do you know why it wouldn't have worked out?"
"Just a gut feeling."
"I see," she hums. "We'll try again then."
"Sure," he replies, chuckling. But then he suddenly remembers something from his conversation with Soph. "Ah, right - also, I think she might still like her ex. Someone named... Micah? I don't know, she kept mentioning him."
Alaia raises an eyebrow. "And here I thought she was over him..." she hums. "I guess not."
"Yeah," he says. "Anyways, what did you want to do today?"
"Do you wanna grab an early dinner?" she asks, checking the clock hung up on her wall. It's 5:30 - so not really too early, she thinks.
"I could do with dinner. I actually haven't eaten lunch," he says, and Alaia's eyes widen.
"You haven't had lunch? Let's go eat, then!" she says, getting up from her seat on the couch. "Give me a second, I'll go get dressed."
He nods, watching her disappear down the small corridor and into her own room. Franco takes this time to look at the photos displayed on the shelves near the television. There's pictures of her and her friends, some from her photoshoots - where she looks absolutely gorgeous - and some of her and her father.
Franco notices that one of the pictures of her and her father seemed to be folded, hiding another part of the picture.
"Which one are you looking at?" she asks, and he turns around. She walks up to him, dressed in a white patterned halter top and some white jeans. She smacks her lips together to spread the lip gloss that she's applied, putting the tube back into her bag.
Franco finds his breath hitched in his throat.
"Hello? Earth to Franco?"
"Sorry, sorry," he says, snapping out of it. "This one." he says, picking up the frame that holds the picture of Alaia and her father. She smiles when she sees it, and looks at it fondly.
"Ah, yeah, that one. That's me and my dad in Switzerland."
Franco wants to ask about why it's folded - but he holds his tongue. There must be a reason why she did it, and Franco doesn't want to pry in case it makes her uncomfortable.
"I see," he says. He places the photo back on the shelf, and walks towards the door, Alaia following him. "So, where do you want to go for dinner?"
She smiles, pulling out her phone. "I was just about to ask you the same thing. What are you craving?"
"Maybe some Argentinian food," he confesses, as he turns the doorknob. "I think it's been a while since I've had food from home."
"Sounds like a plan," she beams. "You'll order, then? I trust that you'll know what's good."
Franco nods, opening the door to let Alaia walk out first.
The tension between them is palpable for the few seconds where she looks at him, her breath hitched in her throat. There's something magnetic that's drawing her closer - but then she simply smiles gratefully to him as a thanks for opening the door.
She bounds down the steps towards her car, her eyes wide with worry, and back turned towards Franco.
This is bad, she thinks. This is really, really bad.
