Showtime Dalton
“Guys, I need your help,” I say on the video, camera lighting up my face.
“I met a girl at Kickin’ Boots in Santa Rosé, California.
Her name was Bryn, she was with a bunch of friends.
Savanna, Jordan. She’s short, maybe five feet, brown hair to her chin.
We danced the night away.” I press a hand against my chest. “Before I got a chance to get her number, she had to leave.”
“She had this incredible smile, and damn, the sound of her laugh was…I can’t even describe it.
” I spin around in my spot, a view of a parking lot behind me.
Lights from the bar, people coming out, loitering outside.
I pan back so they’re out of view. “I have to take her out on a date. I want to dance with this woman again. And again. If she’d have me. ”
“I need to find her,” I plead, hoping someone hears the desperation in my voice.
“She left in a hurry with her friends, but I’m ninety-two percent sure they didn’t leave because she thought I was a psycho or an annoying asshole.
We made eye contact just before she went out the door and I swear to God, she mouthed that she was sorry. ”
“If you have any idea who she is, tag her. DM me. If you know her friends, tag them. They were out for her friend’s birthday.” I nod at the camera. “Socials, do your thing. I’ll return to your regularly scheduled content tomorrow. Promise.” Then I wink, and the comments roll in.
TheIntroverted.Bookworm:
Algorithm bring me back.
LoveXPieInfinity:
This is ridiculously adorable!
BittysBookNook:
I'LL GET MY BULLHORN OUT TO FIND HER
JCsSpaceCowgirly:
Where's the green flag guy?