Sure enough, at 12:00 on the dot, a slick black Lamborghini pulled into your driveway. It probably cost more than your entire apartment building and would certainly merit you some "Apartment Cred" when your rich hunky boyfriend picks you up and drives you off to a French café. Surely enough, Dean Slater stepped out of his car, dressed in cliché French attire and holding a bouquet of roses. "Hi, Dean!" You called down the man in the driveway. He looked exactly like his profile pic, and was warranting some astonished looks from her neighbors, who were gawking at the car itself and not noticing the son of a rich businessman taking you on a date. Dean called back up to you, "Hey, Natie! You ready?" You nodded and ran down the steps of your apartment and towards your soon-to-be boyfriend.
"This is a very nice car, Dean!" you said in an overactive tone, obviously showing off to the neighbors who had come down from their balconies to meet Dean. "Yep, just got it out of the shop, new fresh coat of black paint." He patted the car of the roof. "It's not done, though. I have to get some yellow rims on it, then it will be perfect." He opened the door to the passenger's seat for you, and you stepped into the cool, air conditioned car, which was much better than standing out there in the summer heat. Dean ran across to the driver's side and you two drove downtown to the café, your neighbors taking as many photos as they could of the car speeding off into the distance.
"So, I heard this café is pretty nice." You said to Dean at a red light. "Oh, yeah, it's amazing. I used to go there all the time." Dean replied, with much enthusiasm. Then, the enthusiasm drained from him, and he continued. "But, after my mom died, my dad spent more time at work, and I had to go alone. It's not as much fun if you don't have anyone to talk to, or share a booth with... but, that's not important." He was starting to tear up at the thought of those repressed memories. He looked over at you, and saw that you had lost your joy from your face as well. "I-I'm sorry I brought that up, we're supposed to have a nice date, and-" You cut him off before he finished. "No, no, it's okay. You shouldn't keep these things pent up anyways." He shot a tearful glance at you and returned to the road, the light turning green. "I's okay to talk bout these things, that way you can get closure, and they won't haunt you forever." You think you did something wrong, so you go back to looking out the window. Then, Dean starts breaking into sobs. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" but Dean pulled over to a gas station before you could finish. "Uh... Dean?" He reached over and flung himself into a hug with you. You were in shock, and you didn't know what to do. You simply let him sob and occasionally pat him on the back. Eventually, Dean got back up, dried his eyes, and started the car again, heading back on track to the café.
When you arrived at the café, you were virtually stunned at the décor. The entire front wall was covered in what looked like real vines creeping up the building. There were little tables with 2-3 chairs at each one. A mini Eifel Tower candleholder was set up on each table. A few couples were sitting at various tables, and Dean was directing you to a certain table, one in a semi-shaded corner of the garden. He pulled you out a chair and said something in French, "J'ai hâte de te faire grossir.." You assumed it was something pretty, like "Please sit" or something. You sit down on the garden chair as he takes a seat across from you and flags down the waiter. "Bon retour Dean. Que puis-je obtenir pour vous et la Dame?" The waiter said to Dean. "Bonjour Brian. Nous aurons un panier de croissants pour commencer, du beurre supplémentaire". The only thing you understood was "Croissant". The waiter nodded, and went back into the café. You must have had a confused look on your face, because Dean then said "Oh, the waiters here speak French, and they appreciate it if the customers do too." You just went along with it like it made sense. "How am I supposed to order? I don't speak French." Dean replied "Don't worry, I'll translate for you." The waiter came out carrying a large basket of buttery croissants. The placed it down on the table and left to tend to some other customers.
Dean proceeded to tear into a croissant from the basket, but you decided not to. You always had a hard time maintaining your weight, and you knew how fattening legit croissants could be. As if he read your mind, Dean asked "Don't you want one? They're really good." You wanted to try one, but were still apprehensive. "I'm kinda watching my weight, and..." A small malicious glare flashed into his eyes for a brief moment, but it was so brief, you weren't sure if you saw it or not. "One or two croissants isn't going to hurt you." Dean said, who was finishing up his third. You eventually gave in and took one from the basket. It was warm and soft in your hand, like freshly baked bread (which you reminded yourself that it was). You peeled off a layer of the flaky croissant and ate it. Immediately, the thick flavor and texture of the croissant hit your taste buds like a freight train. you took a big bite out of the warm, flaky snack, and another bite, and another bite, and then bit your fingers. Apparently, you ate straight through the croissant. You hoped Dean didn't notice, and luckily he didn't. He was busy on his own croissant. You had a couple more croissants, taking your time with these ones, and eventually the waiter returned with two cups of coffee.
"Oh, yeah, I got us some coffee while you were eating." He said, grabbing a spoonful of sugar from his side of the table. You noticed that the waiter brought 2 bowls of sugar and 2 cups of creamer. It was a bit odd for a café to bring the coffee to them and they had to put in the sugar and creamer. At least, you thought it was odd. You've never been to as fancy a café as this one. You picked up the sugar and creamer and noticed there was a label on it that said "Sugar Free". It was sweet of him to take your diet into consideration. You poured a couple of spoonfuls of sugar and a little bit of creamer, stirred it in, and took a sip. It tasted a lot different than coffee you had at home. Maybe it was a fancier brand? Either way, you weren't complaining. You drank your coffee as The waiter came back one final time. "Maintenant, vous êtes prêts pour le déjeuner?". You assumed he was asking what they wanted, because Dean asked you "What do you want?" "Oh, um... I'll have a chicken salad." Dean translated the order: "Je vais prendre le steak et elle aura la salade de poulet." "Un excellent choix." the waiter said, writing down the orders and leaving into the café once more.
"So, I don't actually know that much about you." Dean said, sipping his coffee and staring into your eyes. "Oh, well... I'm 22, I'm a personal trainer at The SweatAway Gym, and I'm also an artist." "Oh, really?" Dean said, genuinely curious. "Think you could draw something for me?" He pulled out a notepad and a pencil and handed it to you. "Well, I'm more comfortable with digital art, but I think I can manage." You picked up the paper and started sketching Dean's handsome face. You started with some rough, rugged construction lines of the chiseled face of him, then going to his sharp eyes, perfect nose, and pursed lips. The smaller details came later, like his scruffy beard and thick eyebrows. You then drew his flowing dark hair around the back of his head. Finishing up with some final lines, you show the piece to Dean. "wow, that is amazing. You are really good." Dean looked over the piece, scouring every tiny detail of the amazing art work. Eventually, their food arrived. Dean tore into his steak, and you start eating your salad. It was pretty good, definitely better than any chicken salad you had before.
About halfway through your lunch, Dean's phone rang. "Oh, it's my French tutor. I got to take this." He answered the phone and started spewing a whole essay worth of French, "Salut. C'est Dean. Oui, je l'ai emmenée au café des mensonges. Elle a déjà commencé à grossir. Ses vêtements sont plus serrés déjà, et je vois un début déchirant. Le gros cochon aurait dû porter des vêtements plus lâches. Je vais commencer la phase 2. Nous devons la faire se soumettre à nous. En outre, elle a un travail en tant qu'entraîneur personnel, nous devons la faire sortir de ce travail. Elle a mentionné être un artiste, peut-être nous pouvons faire quelque chose avec ça. Crois-moi, elle sera notre grosse esclave sexuelle d'ici la fin de l'année. Je ne vais pas en perdre un autre. J'ai besoin d'elle pour être ma propre boule de stress humain. Je dois y aller, je dois lui donner les chocolats d'engraissement. Ils sont encore expérimentaux, non? d'accord, c'est juste pour être sûr. J'espère qu'elle sera un ballon d'ici la fin de la journée. Revoir." and hung up. You don't know a whole lot of French, but you know anyone who could say that much French without messing up despite not being native French was definitely hiding something. They finished up their lunches with little conversation and Dean paid the bill and left a tip.
Dean escorted you to the car, you felt bloated and fat, you obviously overdid it on the croissants. He opened the door and eased you into the passenger's side, then hopped into the driver's side and drove the car slowly. After about a 1/2 hour drive, your stomach felt a lot better, but you didn't feel any less fat. Dean helped you out of the car and up the stairs to your apartment. 'I had a nice time today, Natie." Dean said when you were on your floor. "Yeah, me too. I just think I ate too many croissants." You cradled your stuffed belly in your hands. "Yeah, but they were good." He said, and you two shared a laugh. After it was over, you were stuck looking into each other's eyes. "I-I haven't had this good a time in a while." You said, dazed by his hypnotic blue eyes. "Me either." Dean said, leaning in. It wasn't long before you two were sharing a deep, passionate kiss. You don't know how long it would last, but before you knew it, he pulled away. You two continued to look into each other's eyes, before he started to turn away. "See you later, Natie." He waved goodbye to you, and you stood there, contemplating what had just happened. Eventually, you went into your apartment.
Dean had already been messaging you on LovR, but you had bigger issues to tend to. One of which was your currently expanded waistline. It wasn't anything you couldn't burn off at work. You decided to lay down and chat with Dean, who had just given you one of the best dates of your life.