Blindate - An Arctic Monkeys Fanfic

Chapter 9

Quick author's note:
Really exciting chapter ahead! But yeah this is just my sketch of what I think Grace would look like except SHE DOESN'T SMOKE I just thought that would look cool in the picture haha. PS I know her legs are stubby haha I never said I was a good artist>.< Thanks again for reading my story, I hope you love it!

As I approached the table, my heart started beating faster than it ever had before. I was having second thoughts. What if he really was a kidnapper? I shook my head as if to clear the warnings in my mind and sat down in the chair across from Allen.

"Hi Allen," I said, trying to sound cheerful despite the horrifying scenarios rushing through my head. "It's great to finally meet you."

"Hello Grace," Allen said, reaching out to shake my hand. "I'm so glad you could make it."

I was slightly startled by his voice. I had been expecting a raspy, gruff, kidnapper voice. Not even close. Allen spoke in a smooth, northern England accent, that flowed out of his mouth and into my ears like music. Yet again, I felt a tugging in the back of my brain, but this time much more intense. It was really starting to annoy me. What possibly could it be? It wasn't fear, but more like a déjà vu kind of thing. I tried to shake it off like before, but this time it lingered a bit. Nevertheless, I reached out and shook Allen's hand.

"So," he continued. "I'd ask you your favorite spot or hobby or some other first date type question, but I really know all that. So, how about we start with a drink?"

Just at that moment, a young waitress came over to our table. I was shocked by the perfect timing, but I could see by the look on Allen's face that he had seen her coming. I smiled. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy with a good sense of humor. This date was actually going well. So far, that is.

"Hi, my name's Amy and I'll be your server today. Can I get you something to drink?" the girl said in a thick Boston accent, so 'server' came out more like 'sehvaah'. I had no clue what I wanted, so I cast my eyes down to the menu. They had some pretty interesting drinks on there.

"I'll have a dandelion and burdock please," said Allen.

And then it made sense, all of it. The refusal to let me call him Al, the traveling, the love of music, the choice of restaurant, the accent, and even the clothes. And it explained all that tugging at my brain. I got it now. Flustered by my recent discovery, I picked the first drink on the menu.

"Um, I'll just have a lemonade please."

"Alright," said Bostonian Server Lady Amy. "I'll be right back with the drinks." She gave us a huge fake smile, and then left to get the beverages.

Now, of course, I was fangirling insanely in my head right now. But I was determined to be cool about this. For the first time in a long time, I knew just what to say.

"You know that fraud is illegal, right?"

He was shocked for a second, I could tell even behind the multiple layers of identity protection on his face. Then he smiled and slid the sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, revealing his chocolate-brown eyes. I was mesmerize by their depth and beauty. I could look into those eyes forever. Sadly, the moment was ruined by the waitress coming back over to our table and screaming,

"Oh my God! You're Alex Turner!"