Chapter 16 Now
Now
@ainsleygreenwrites: Meet-cute attempt: airport edition ended with a guy hitting on me while name-dropping his girlfriend. And they say romance is dead!
Comments:
@notesappnovelist: literally the opposite of a love story
@sloanehart: men are so creative in the ways they disappoint
@swiftie1313: I’d request a gate change
The air is crisp, the kind of cold that wakes you up without slapping you.
Winston walks ahead of me, tail wagging, his tiny legs moving double time toward the gate of the dog park.
I forgot how much he loves it here. It’s not crowded yet.
There are just a few dogs sniffing around and one girl who looks to be around my age crouched near the fence, trying to untangle a leash from around her ankles.
“Austen, seriously?” she mutters, laughing as a long-bodied dachshund wriggles free, her bandanna patterned with tiny books flapping as she bolts toward Winston.
Winston freezes for a second, then darts forward, his little butt wiggling with excitement.
The girl straightens up, brushing her long blond hair out of her face as she watches them play.
Her hair’s in one of those messy buns that’s more mess than bun, and she’s swallowed by an oversize sweater that hangs past her hands.
There’s nothing intimidating about her. If anything, she feels like the kind of person you’d immediately ask to split fried pickles with at a bar.
When Winston barrels into her, she crouches down without hesitation, laughing in this unfiltered, contagious way that makes me want to laugh too.
She already feels like someone I should’ve known longer than the two seconds I’ve been standing here.
“Sorry! She thinks every dog is her soulmate.”
“He does too, honestly. Austen as in Jane Austen?” I ask.
“Yes!” She smiles. “No one ever gets that!”
“When you said ‘she,’ it was a dead giveaway to me, but I’m a writer, so maybe that’s why.”
She offers a hand. “I’m Maddie.”
“Ainsley. And that’s Winston.”
We both watch as our dogs zigzag around each other like they’ve known each other forever.
“I’m in grad school to be a therapist,” Maddie says, readjusting her tote bag on her shoulder. “Austen comes with me sometimes. My professors say she’s an emotional support menace.”
I laugh. “Winston would flunk out of any certification program. He’s like, no, no, you need to support me.”
“Honestly? Mood.”
There’s a pause, the comfortable kind. We sit on the edge of the bench, not quite facing each other, still half watching the dogs.
“So you said you’re a writer?” she asks.
I hesitate for half a second. “Yeah. Romance, technically.”
Her eyebrows lift. “That’s so cool.”
“It’s chaotic,” I say. “But fun. I’m kind of between projects right now and trying this thing where I recreate tropes in real life to get inspired.”
Her eyes light up. “Like rom-com tropes?”
I nod. “Exactly. Meet-cutes mostly. I even filmed one the other night at the state fair. Ferris wheel disaster.”
“Oh my god,” she says, laughing. “Please tell me it went horribly.”
I pull out my phone and show her the video. “Just wait.”
She watches, and as it hits the part where my phone falls, she gasps. “This is incredible. Like it’s giving thesis project meets mental breakdown.”
“Honestly? Yeah.” I laugh. “I got broken up with a few months ago, so I’ve been feeling a little vengeful.”
“Say no more.” She grins. “That’ll do it.”
“Came here today hoping to meet a hot guy with a dog.”
“Instead you found Winston a girlfriend.”
We both look over at them just in time to see Winston and Austen licking each other’s faces like they’re already in a long-term relationship. It’s gross and adorable and kind of healing to watch.
“I’ll take it.”
She glances back at me. “I’m not hot guy material, but I am studying attachment styles, so if you want to trauma dump about your ex while our dogs make out in public, I’m here.”
I laugh, brightening. Maybe Elizabeth was right; maybe I could do this again.
We swap numbers and make loose plans to get drinks sometime soon. Maddie tries to rope me into her run club, and even though I’m skeptical, I say yes—it’s on my list of meet-cute locations, and apparently there’s free beer at the finish line. How bad could it be?