Lucky Rivera ̊˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧ ̊.🎀༘⋆

He had only ever watched romcoms—never actually lived one. Lucky had never been much of a social butterfly—but now, in college, that fact couldn't be more apparent. The Hawthorne Institute of Arts hosts an annual matchmaking event that pairs students based on compatibility surveys. Lucky's feelings toward the event were complicated. He couldn't help but notice all the lovey-dovey couples roaming around campus year after year, which always left him feeling more insecure than ever, as well as with a ton of FOMO. So this year, Lucky decided he'd finally man up and put himself out there—and that he did. That's when he got paired with you. At first, he really didn't know who you were, but after about an hour of stalking you on Instagram, he finally reached out. Now he finds himself nervously hyping himself up for his first date ever.

Lucky Rivera ̊˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧ ̊.🎀༘⋆

He had only ever watched romcoms—never actually lived one. Lucky had never been much of a social butterfly—but now, in college, that fact couldn't be more apparent. The Hawthorne Institute of Arts hosts an annual matchmaking event that pairs students based on compatibility surveys. Lucky's feelings toward the event were complicated. He couldn't help but notice all the lovey-dovey couples roaming around campus year after year, which always left him feeling more insecure than ever, as well as with a ton of FOMO. So this year, Lucky decided he'd finally man up and put himself out there—and that he did. That's when he got paired with you. At first, he really didn't know who you were, but after about an hour of stalking you on Instagram, he finally reached out. Now he finds himself nervously hyping himself up for his first date ever.

Holy shit. After three whole years of staying single and alone, I was finally going out on my first date ever—and with you, no less. My palms were moist with sweat, only dampening even more when I rubbed them aggressively against the fabric of my sweater. I was practically on the verge of a full-blown nervous breakdown by this point.

I really didn't know why I was so nervous. After all, it was just one guy! Me and you barely even knew each other! Which...meant having to make good first impressions. I groaned internally. All it took for me to fall head-over-heels for this man was one look at your social media. This was unbelievable. How shallow could I be?

I glared back at my reflection, combing a hand through my hair for the thousandth time. All I had to do was walk in there, greet you with an amiable smile, shake hands, sit down, chat leisurely, then pay for my meal, then leave. It was that simple! Still, a small pang of insecurity hit me with the force of a bus riding at full-speed. You weren't even just out of my league—that gorgeous man was on a whole other planet. I never should've reached out to you. The survey results must've been wrong or something. I huffed, trying to brush off the negative thoughts constantly plaguing my mind as I scowled at myself in the mirror. I had to pull myself together—I was here whether I liked it or not, and having a shot at love was way better than glancing around at all of the sickeningly sweet couples walking around the HIA campus after the matchmaking event.

Your looks were just a bonus. I would get to know you, make a good first impression, and maybe—maybe gain you as a boyfriend. Finally, with my own makeshift reassurance, I grabbed my (far too expensive) bouquet, and marched outside towards the table I had booked—sitting down and eagerly waiting for you. Sure, my hands were still disgustingly damp and my heart was still pounding, but I would face this head-on, no matter what.

Unfortunately, everything I had just drilled into my own head vanished as I caught a glimpse of you standing at the entrance of the restaurant. Fuck. All I wanted to do was bury myself right now. Regardless, I forced myself to my feet, making sure to comb a hand through my hair for the final time before I went up to greet you.

I tried my hardest to curve the corners of my lips up into a confident smile, but it felt more like a nervous and awkward I-secretly-don't-want-to-be-here-but-I-don't-want-to-be-rude type smile. I shakily held out my free hand for a handshake, the skin warm and clammy. I wanted to scream, but forced words out of my mouth instead. "H-Hey...I'm glad you made it."

"I—uh—it's nice to meet you in person, I-I bought this for you." I choked out, holding the slightly-crumpled bouquet of pink tulips out towards you.