Walking out of the restaurant was like entering a new world.

Trees flanked the street, their leaves dancing from branch to ground in a flutter of gold, berry-reds and browns. Annabelle felt the breeze along her face, rich with the smell of damp soil, and stared up. There were no stars tonight – just a vast, stormy quilt of clouds against a night sky.

Perhaps that had been a warning from the universe. Because, the second she started to move towards the cars parked along the street, she heard him.

"Hey."

Al Moitzi.

Her catfishing, identity-thieving, talking-with-food-in-his-mouth date.

She didn't even turn to face him as she said, "What do you want?"

He sighed. She felt his shadow fall over her, cold and dark.

"Look, I've thought about it," he said. "And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lied about who I am. I've just been rejected so many times because of the way I look and... I didn't know what to do."

Annabelle shrugged. "Stop faking your identity. That's all you have to do."

"Please. I'm sorry. Just give me one more date. One more chance to make it up to you."

"No."

"Just one more. I swear."

"And I said no."

She knew she sounded like a cold, cruel person. But seeing the way he lied, the way he spoke to the waiters, the way he commented about her job—

"Don't be stubborn," he insisted. "You'll regret this. We have something—"

"And I said—"

That night, her favourite waiter had saved her multiple times. He had saved her from burning down the restaurant, to helping her scream it all out in the bathrooms, to burning her date with some chilli.

So she shouldn't have been too shocked when she heard his voice, and his elegant accent, roll through the air.

"Miss," he called out. "You're short-changed for the drink you ordered."

Annabelle froze, her lips pursed.

Surely he had told her before that there had been no need to pay for the drink? Had there been some sort of misunderstanding?

Then, when she turned to face him, she caught the glimmer in his eyes. The gentle concern.

Let me help you.

Annabelle turned to Al. Waved away his outstretched hand. "I better go inside and sort that out."

"Do you want me to wait out here or—"

"No."

He curled his fingers, shaking his head. Scoffing. "So, that's it then? No second chance?"

Annabelle felt the change in her bones.

His fists were shaking. His face was glowing bright with unadulterated fury. And he was stepping way too close for comfort.

He was going to hurt her. She was sure of it.

"Miss? Please come inside and sort the bill out."

The waiter's voice. Reaching out for her like a lifeline. Pulling her back into her shoes.

Annabelle raised her gaze up to Al. "I need to go. And if you wait out here, I will call the police."

Then, she turned on her heel and marched right back into the restaurant.

The adrenaline of it all was still pulsing through her. But the waiter was there – guiding her to a table, shaking his head as she pulled out her purse.

"You weren't actually short-changed," he told her. "You just looked like you needed saving."

"I did. A little bit."

In one fluid movement, he had plopped a glass onto her table, a jug of water sloshing right after it.

"If you stay behind for a bit, we can make sure you get to your car safely," he said. "Would you be okay with that?"

For the first time that night, Annabelle properly looked at him.

His eyes were a beautiful green – clear and smooth, like jade crystals. His dark hair fell in waves around his ears, and his smile...

Annabelle felt her heart skip for a second as he fixed his apron.

"Sure," she told him. "That would be lovely."

Annabelle had to admit: after watching the waiters and chefs close down the restaurant for the night, she absolutely did not envy them. Every night, once the chatter fell into silence, they got to work – stripping down the tables, snatching away all the fragrances from the kitchens, and wiping down every damned piece of furniture around.

Worse yet, they still had people strolling in when they were clearly closed for the night, asking to order some food.

Ridiculous.

The other waiters at the restaurant didn't seem bothered by Annabelle, even as she tried to help balance dishes over to the kitchens. She saw a few of them exchange knowing glances and stride over to nudge her favourite waiter. She even caught one dangling a rather long, curled chilli in front of him.

Which told her that, perhaps, more people were involved in the chilli schemes than she had initially thought.

Once the chandeliers had blinked out and the restaurant smelt more of soap than pasta, her favourite waiter was there, holding the door open for her.

They had been supposed to go to her car. Instead, though, with stars finally lighting the sky like little snowflakes, Annabelle found herself walking away – anywhere, really.

It was always the stars, for her. When she had first moved away from her parents, and into the city to find work, it had been the stars that helped her find solace. Their choreographed blizzard, the way they tumbled and darted through millions of galaxies, and yet still watched over her. As if her galaxy was just as important as all the other ones out there.

The waiter, to his credit, said nothing as he followed her. Whether it was because he had nothing to say, or he could see her attention on the stars, Annabelle didn't know. All she knew was that he seemed content in the silence, with his hands stuffed in his pocket, wandering down the crisp autumn night with her.

It was only when they found a large oak tree, kissed by morphing blue fairy lights, and lay on the golden blanket of leaves that they spoke.

"Um, so—"

"Yeah, I—"

Muffled, awkward laughter. Annabelle gestured for him to continue.

"What's your name?" he asked. "I can't keep calling you 'miss' all the time."

"Annabelle. Yours?"

"Luca."

Annabelle couldn't help but repeat it in her head. It suited him – a sweet, gentle name. Certainly better than Alvin the Chipmunk.

"Thanks for tonight, Luca," she said, turning to face him. "You really helped me out a lot."

He kept his gaze trained onto the stars above them, leaning back against his hands. "It's no worries. He seemed like... not a nice man."

"No."

"My younger sister..." He hesitated for a moment, before adding, "She was with a man who was not very nice. He pretended to be someone he was not, and he was not good to her."

Annabelle felt her jaw drop. Instantly, she propped herself onto her elbow so she could meet his eyes.

"I'm so sorry. Is she alright now?"

Luca smiled warmly. "She's alright now. Are you alright? After tonight?"

"Yes. I'm alright."

"Good."

Then, they went back to staring at the stars embedded into the sky, basking in the hum of their soft breaths.

It was amazing to Annabelle. How two strangers could meet by accident – could find themselves lying side by side, staring into the rich black night, with no words needed.

"What app was that?" Luca suddenly asked. "That you met him on?"

Annabelle winced. "Tinder."

"How does it work?"

Instantly, she was sitting up, her phone already in her hands. "Let me show you."

She jumped straight onto the app. Considered unmatching Al Moitzi.

Instead, she went to the home page, holding up her phone for Luca.

"So, you see a person, and if you like them, you swipe this way," she explained. "And if you don't, you swipe the other way. And if you both swipe yes, then you get matched, and you can start talking."

"How do you get it?"

"Are you wanting to give it a try?"

Annabelle nearly laughed as he flushed. It was the most shy she had seen him all night. Hell, he looked embarrassed. No more cunning eyes and mischievous laughs – once he was out of the restaurant, he was like a little, charming cinnamon roll.

"Maybe," he finally answered.

Annabelle grinned, tugging at his sleeve. "Get your phone out, then! We can do this."

Within minutes, she had it downloaded onto his phone. Meanwhile, Luca just stared at her, and she caught the strange amalgamation between horror and amazement in his face as he entered in his email.

"I'm scared," he told her quietly. "What if no one swipes?"

Annabelle snickered. "Look at you. You're gorgeous. Plenty of girls will be swiping on you."

Was that a strange thing to say to someone you had just met? Annabelle wasn't too sure – but she didn't let herself think on it. It was nearing midnight, and there were other matters at hand. Important matters.

"Do you have pictures of yourself, or do you also want to take fake ones and make your first date hate you?"

Luca laughed at that. "I don't have many photos."

"Okay. Stand up. Get by the tree. We're taking photos."

"It'll look silly, no?"

Annabelle gestured around them. Sure, there were a few people laying scattered on the grass, with their picnic blankets thrown between them and their laughter floating into the night. But all of them were doing their own stupidly adorable things – one was serenading his girlfriend with a very out of tune ukulele, and another group of friends were playing some game that involved screaming, "Social justice warriors with flamethrowers of compassion!"

Whatever that meant.

Before she knew it, Luca was posing by the tree. Propping his leg onto the bark, folding his arms, laughing as she rolled around the grass to find the perfect angle. Even with tomato stains on his shirt and tired circles beneath his eyes, his face lit up with every smile.

She was surprised he would need Tinder at all. How were people not throwing themselves at him? How?

She took enough snaps to make herself seem borderline obsessive. But, when she showed him all sixty of them to choose from, he had assessed each one like the angle actually mattered.

And thus, the process began.

"Please do not put something about liking travelling in your bio."

"Why not?"

"Everyone puts that. Trust me."

Luca seemed to ponder this. "What about saying that I'm very good at board games?"

"Good at... board games?"

"Yeah."

Annabelle shrugged. "You know what? Go for it. It's different."

"Wait, you're already swiping?"

"Yeah. Look at this girl. She's cute. Should I swipe yes?"

"Luca, her bio says that she gives wine to her cats."

"Isn't that normal?"

"...No."

"Hey, check this out," Annabelle said. "This guy said in his bio that he makes out with mannequins as a hobby."

Luca didn't even seem the slightest bit phased. "I just found someone dressed up as a hot dog in her picture."

"Oh, and my next one says... he doesn't have herpes."

"Well, that's good to know."

"And this next one likes board ga—"

Annabelle froze then.

On her phone was a picture she had taken only minutes ago.

Luca, by the tree, his face glowing blue from the lights. His smile radiant and his eyes beaming. His shirt smeared with sauce and dirt. His hair just as tangled as her own.

"Hey," she said gently. "Luca. I found you."

He was smiling too. And, as he flashed his own phone towards her, she saw herself – her awkward mirror selfie, with her hair knotted over her head and her wonky eyeliner.

"I found you, too," he said.

Annabelle threw her head back to laugh.

Two half-strangers. Laying beneath the stars.

Matching on Tinder.

"What do we do?" she blurted out. "Do we swipe yes? No?"

Luca frowned. "I don't know. You're the expert."

"You saw exactly how my last date went. I think we both know I am not an expert."

Then, they sat there. Staring at the photos of each other.

Annabelle tried to catch his gaze, but she just couldn't read through it. It was getting late – almost one in the morning, and he was still here, playing along with her wild ideas. Was he too polite to leave? Was he genuinely enjoying himself?

She didn't know. But, God, she wished she did.

"I have an idea," she finally said.

He gave her a quizzical look. "Yeah?"

"We make the decision by ourselves. At home. If it matches, that's fine. But if either of us say no and we don't match, that's alright, too. We never have to worry about it again. Deal?"

She held her hand out for him. And, after a moment of staring down at it, he reached out to shake it.

"Deal."

She wondered if she made up the electricity that ran through her fingers as he squeezed them. She wondered if she was hallucinating it when she felt the stars poke out that little bit more from their cloak of darkness.

"It's getting late," Luca said.

Annabelle nodded. "Yeah. I should start heading home."

And yet, their hands still held on.

"Thank you for making my night so much better," she told him.

"You too."

Annabelle could feel her mind rushing at a million miles per hour.

Were they close enough to hug? High five? Fist bump?

The moment passed before she had the chance to decide, though. Luca withdrew his hand, and with a little wave, he evaporated into the night.

Leaving Annabelle.

Her pounding heart.

And her stupid Tinder account.

Annabelle was, quite frankly, a hot mess the second she got into her apartment.

It was two in the morning, and still, the old lady from her neighbouring apartment had knocked the door within the first five minutes of her arriving home.

"My crystals are telling me that the movement of the heavenly bodies are making your future an adventure," the old woman had crowed on. "It's a continual process of discovery, aye?"

Annabelle had nodded politely. Then, as she did every night, she had escorted the strange woman back to her apartment.

After that, she was back on Tinder. Looking at Luca.

Swipe yes. Swipe no.

She wanted to swipe yes. Her instinct said to swipe yes.

But what if he swiped no? He would never know that she swiped yes, sure, but it would be mortifying. She would never be able to go back to that Italian restaurant, knowing that he had swiped no on her just like that.

Annabelle paced around her apartment.

It was a small, lonely place. Her job at the bowling alley was hardly enough to afford rent each week, so aside from the worn bed and television, there really was nothing. She had tried to make it more welcome – painting the reddish-brown walls over with hot pink and replacing the blinds with thick velvet curtains that fell into pleats.

Still, it wasn't enough.

Seven months in the city, and she still had no proper friends. Her boss was a sleaze, her co-workers were all young teenagers still in high school, and all her friends were still back by the countryside.

Maybe she could ask Luca, regardless of how he swiped, to be her friend.

Would that seem weird? Would it seem desperate?

Swipe left? Swipe right?

She made a cup of tea. Collapsed onto her mattress. Watched a baking show for ten minutes.

Swipe yes?

Swipe no?

She remembered the way he seemed to genuinely care. The way he gave her that free drink. The way he checked in on her, even when she was screaming in the bathroom. The way he called her back inside when he thought she was in danger.

Had it just been part of his job?

Or did he actually care?

Swipe right?

Or left?

Okay, what was the worst that would happen if she said yes?

Aside from, well, him swiping no. Leaving her rejected and mortified and on the verge of calling up Al Moitzi just so she could get some sort of attention.

Okay, she had to admit, those did sound pretty awful. And melodramatic.

Still, he wouldn't know that she had said yes, even if he had said no. She could act all cool and calm about it, and pretend they had both rejected each other.

Except she was a terrible liar.

Though, what if she just never saw him again? Then it wouldn't make a difference if he said no.

Annabelle reached for her phone.

Then, after glancing over at his face again, she dropped it.

What if they did both swipe yes?

Would she have to send the first text? Or him?

Would that mean he was romantically interested in her, or just scared of rejecting her?

Annabelle could feel her brain beginning to throb.

She couldn't take it anymore.

So, she snatched up her phone. Swiped. Threw the whole damned mobile onto the other side of the bed.

Then, she heard the small, bouncy ding! Saw the notification flash on the screen.

She crawled towards it. Her heart tight. Her eyes weary and yet unable to close.

And, as she read the notification, she felt it.

Hope.

It's a match!