𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑴𝑶𝑵 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑺𝑬, cmb ✓

- 𝟏 -

C M B

"Late parking tickets, got like five, they on my mind
Life's stressin' me but that's alright, that's alright"
That's Alright - EBEN

"....So basically Ryan, my ex, he said that I was just too much for him. Like what is that even supposed to mean? I gave him everything, and it still wasn't enough. I just wanted him to love me the way that I loved him. Was that too much to ask? I don't think so. But noooo, he had the nerve to tell me that I was too much for him. Did he want to settle for less? Who wants to settle for less? I know I don't...my daddy always said to never ever......"

It was almost the end of the night. I don't even know what I'm doing here, or why I'm even trying. It's the 3rd blind date Daniel has set me up on this week and each one seems to be worse than the last. I know he means well, but none of this is doing anyone any favors. In fact, now that I think about it, it's just a big waste of time. It's been about a year since I told the guys that I'm ready to start dating again, and ever since then, it's been blind date after blind date. Sure, there were a few winners, but it's not like they lasted more than a night. All the guys have been encouraging me to get my game on, but Daniel has been "helping" me out a little more. Although, I don't think his methods are working...

I don't remember much of the girls that I've gone out with. I can hardly tell them apart, let alone their name. From my experience, there are 4 groups most of the girls fall into.

Group 1; nice, but boring. Nothing wrong with them, it's just not for me.

Group 2; shy and don't talk at all. Hate to break it to them but a conversation is a 2 person effort.

Group 3; great with conversations, but never left any room for the other person to talk. So basically the total opposite of Group 2.

And lastly, Group 4; they're in it for the fame. I'm happy to say that only a few girls have fallen into this group. Probably 1 or 2 of them were fans, and those dates were fun. But the other few, it was clear to see that they were in it for the praise. I'm sure it doesn't take long for a girl to swipe left when my profile says "Corbyn Besson, 21. Artist, 1/5 Why Don't We." For those who do know me, I'm sure they swiped left in a heartbeat; and for those who never heard of me, I'm sure it didn't take too long for them to Google me and my net worth.

My point is, none of these girls have clicked with me so far. Call me picky, but I just don't want to make a mistake.

"...And that's why I can't order chocolate lava cake." she said, finally finishing up her story. I don't think I paid attention to 90% of what she just said. Honestly, she lost me at "ex." The last thing I remember was we were ordering dessert and I asked if she wanted the chocolate lava cake, which led to her whole story. I'm guessing it reminded her of Ryan - the darn fella. Even though I didn't exactly enjoy the date, I did learn a lot about her. Her name is Megan, just turned 21 last week (however she's been drinking since she was 16...why she felt the need to tell me that on a first date, I don't know), she's been home-schooled by her mom her whole life, she has an ex named Ryan (as you probably all know by now...did I mention he was the subject for almost all her stories this evening?), and she has a list of pet peeves that she just so graciously shared with me. In other words, a group 3. I guess she gets bonus points for talking about her ex all night.

Since chocolate lava cake was a no go, we both agreed to call it a night. I offered to pay the bill, which she didn't oppose, and then we walked out of the restaurant. We first went to her car. I opened her car door as soon as she unlocked it, waving her goodbye. She gets inside, starting the engine. She rolls her window down, looking up at me. "I had a really good time Connor, we should do this again." and with that, she drove off.

"It's Corbyn!" I yell out as the smoke from her engine welcomes itself into my lungs. I turn to the other direction to where my car was parked. However, when I got to my parking spot, there was no car. I check the parking meter to see that I'm 15 minutes late and my meter expired. I swore that I made sure I had enough time before I ran out, but I guess I was too slow. "Stupid meter." I mutter under my breath, kicking it before walking away.

I walk to the nearest bus stop, seeing that no else is there. It's 10 pm on a Friday night, I seriously can't be the only one in the Los Angeles area who takes a bus these days. I checked the sign next to the bench with all the bus times, and lucky for me, I'm right on time. I only had to wait 5 minutes for the bus to come and pick me up.

The bus came, and I walked on and paid my fare. There was hardly anyone on the bus, besides a couple of people who were scattered in different spots. I took a seat by a window, scrolling through my Instagram feed. The bus stops in front of a school, a university to be more precise, and a group of students get on the bus. A group of girls get on, and I immediately lower my head, praying no one will notice me. Fortunately, the group sat in the far back, completely missing me. Surprisingly, the bus quickly fills up. Who knew so many students would be at school on a Friday night? Maybe their night is just starting...must be nice.

The last person to come on the bus is a girl with brown hair. She wears leggings and an over sized hoodie, holding onto the straps of her backpack. She sits down in the seat across from me, headphones in as she looks out the window, she puts her backpack in the seat next to her. I just realized that I'm staring. Crap. Can she tell that I'm staring? We begin to move and people come on and off the bus. I stopped staring, but I find myself checking if she's still there with the corner of my eye for some reason...

After stopping at one stop, the bus takes a sharp turn, causing everyone and everything on the bus to move to the right. Her backpack slides off the seat, spilling all of its contents onto the center aisle. She immediately crouches down, trying to pick up all of her belongings. I feel something by my foot, I look down and see a book. Assuming that it's hers, I pick it up and read the title, Of Mice and Men. I scoot down my seat, meeting her in the center aisle. I begin to flip open the book, skimming through the pages. I feel her eyes watch me, but I can't exactly read her emotions. I look at her, seeing her face. Gorgeous. Her hazel eyes speak wonders and compliment her brown hair beautifully. Crap. I'm staring again. I hand over her book, putting it in her hands. "So...Mice and Men?"

. . .

(a/n) the time has come...first Corbyn story EVER! this one's to all my fellow Besson lanes out there ;) ahhh i am so excited to write this book and share it with all of you. anyway, i love all of you beautiful humans 😘 until next time 💙
- freebesson98