Chances

“Tina, hurry up,” Becky pouted, stomping her foot as she waited for Tina. “I want to get the good seats in the restaurant, and you know the lift is slow.”  

“Okay, okay, I’m here.” Tina finally disentangled the edge of her dress from the car door, dusting herself off. She straightened, looping her arm through Beck’s as they set off toward the office building. “You have absolutely no patience. How you got a job as an editor still baffles me, you know.”

Becky smiled cheerily, her pink curls tickling Tina’s neck as she shrugged. “It surprises me, too. But it was just meant to be, me finding that flyer, you know? Serendipity in its finest, babe.” She blew Tina a kiss. Tina rolled her eyes. Becky, with the great hair, thank you, and her dreamy dispositions about fate and chance and everything in between. It got a little much for Tina sometimes, but she loved her too much to care anymore.  

“Come on, we’ll be late!” Becky glanced at her watch and broke into a jog, pulling Tina along. Tina stepped out of her thoughts and quickened her pace to match Beck’s, laughing as they raced across the parking lot. 

Across the road from them, Blaine shut his car door and bent to fix his hair in the wing mirror. In its reflection he caught sight of two girls, laughing as they entered the building. A giggle carried to him over the breeze. It sounded vaguely familiar, but that would be ridiculous. He met that girl months ago, miles away from here. The chances were insanely slim.  

He straightened the files in his hand, slid them in his satchel, and headed into the building, looking out for Becky, who he’d planned to meet for lunch. He hoped to beat her to the restaurant so he could pick their seats. She would say something about the middle: it’s special, you bump into more people that way! Insane. But they’d been friends for long enough that it was endearing now. The front seats were best, obviously. You got better service, and it was closest to the doors, perfect for a quick escape. Which he often had to make, as awkwardness was his shadow, and people didn’t appreciate that as much as his cats did. Anyway.  

He nodded at the receptionist as he walked in, stepping into the elevator just before it closed. 

Tina was staring at the ceiling, frowning as she observed the hairline cracks in the lights. They were all too familiar in their pattern, the spidery way they spread out over the corner of the plastic cover - just like the ill-conceived tattoo on her hand, gotten in a drunken haze in college. It was Becky’s fault; she was meant to keep her from doing stupid things when she was drunk – all her natural defenses completely deserted her after two shots. But she just said, it was meant to be! all angelically, the morning after when she woke screaming in horror at the Tim Burton-esque spider on the back of her hand, stinging red.

She glanced down at it now, tracing over the dark legs and the pale, eyes that stared up at her. Meant to be, indeed. Like her mom didn’t rip her a new one when she saw it. 

Just as the doors began to shudder close, someone stepped in. Tina didn’t pay much attention to the man, glancing briefly at the satchel gripped at his side. Distantly, she noted how similar the bag was to the one that guy she’d met all those months ago had. Same ink stain and everything. But that would be crazy. What were the chances? Becky’s rambling must’ve been getting to her.  

She pulled out her phone as the lift began to rise. Then the words Beck said made her stomach drop about a million storeys. “Oh, hey, Blaine! Didn't think you’d be here this early, but this is great! You can meet Tina now! She’s the one who I was telling you about, who needs a graphic designer? Tina, this is Blaine! Old friend of mine! He can help you with your website! Surprise!” 

Tina’s gaze shot upwards in horror, making eye contact with the guy. The frosted tips, tan skin, dark eyes. Really? That Blaine? 

Blaine looked away from Becky’s newly pink hair and stared in shock at Tina, over Becky’s head. The pale skin, the dark hair, the hazel eyes, which he remembered, turned green when she was drunk. This Tina? Really? 

What were the chances? they thought, furiously. 

“Um? You guys?” Becky switched her gaze between her two friends, watching as they stared at each other with identical pinched expressions. “Tina, I told you we were going to meet a friend of mine. You guys are acting like you’ve met before.” Her eyes lit up. “Unless you have? That would be crazy, what are the-” 

Tina coughed to interrupt her, averting her gaze to Blaine’s shoulder. “No, of course not. I’m being rude.” She pulled on her braid and cleared her throat. “I was being rude, I apologize. Nice to meet you, uh, Blaine.” She stretched her arm over Becky’s head, offering her hand.  

Blaine took it slowly, watching the animosity in her eyes translate to her hand in a death grip. Her eyes were greener when she was angry, too. “Nice to meet you, Tina. Never met anyone with a braid that long.”  

She snatched her hand back, touching her braid defensively. It tapped against her dress' belt as she tugged it. “First time for everything, I guess.” They glared at each other. 

Becky was seemingly oblivious to all this, tapping away on her phone. “Y’all can talk better when we get to the table, okay? Please mind the hair.” Tina thanked the heavens for her constant unsuspecting starry-eyedness. She wasn’t quite sure what her reaction would be if she figured out that she actually had met Blaine, three months ago, a little more than a friendly way. 

The lift creaked upwards. Tina and Blaine's eyes were trained stubbornly to their phones, but their thoughts flicked back to that evening, where some ridiculous domino of fate had fallen in motion, right to this moment. 

It was Beck’s cousins’ wedding after party, coinciding nicely with an out of town work seminar they’d been at, even located near to their hotel. Becky had forced her there: tugging her away from her writing, with the excuse that Tina needed to "get out more, you know? You can’t just sit at home over work! How will you meet people? You never know what could happen!" Tina'd scoffed, but stood to button her jacket over her work clothes. “I’m not going to change, though. And you better not ditch me.” Becky had shaken her head, then-blue curls wafting, and pulled her into the Uber. 

But in typical Becky fashion, after they greeted the newlyweds, she disappeared into a throng of bridesmaids, joining them in raucous storytelling about the bride to the guests. She’d sighed and headed for the bar, sitting at the far end and limiting herself to a tiny pint, not wishing to recreate a mishap like the spider on her hand. She read the bar’s name, hung in gold above her head: The Gold Thread, as she tipped back the drink. What did that even mean? Some name for a bar. 

Her mind began to cloud – oh apparently, she was an even lighter weight than she thought – and she tugged at the collar of her jacket, trying to loosen the buttons as the heat rushed to her head. Her hand caught on the chain of her necklace as she pulled, and as her buttons popped suddenly, the chain broke with it, flying to the ground. “Crap.” She leaned down to pick it up when she bashed heads with someone. “Ow!” 

Blaine had sat at the bar, awkwardness leading him there. It was surprisingly bare for a wedding - instead of dodgy uncles and distant relatives, it was a haven for the weird singles. Like him. Even though he was the bride's brother, it didn't make a difference. He ordered a drink and took a sip, turning on his phone, and cursing as it died in his hand. What did he do now? 

He looked down the counter and spotted a girl, just a seat away from him, with what looked like a large, garish spider drawn on her hand. She was tugging ferociously at her collar, and he saw what was going to happen before she did – buttons went flying, and half of a heart necklace shot to the ground. He reached over to pick it up at the same time she did, and they knocked heads. “Ow!”  

They both sat up, then glared at each other, taking in the other: she looked at his hair, dark with blond ends, (who even frosted tips anymore? Jerks, she figured) and he looked at her trousers (checkered, who wore work pants to a wedding? Weird, he thought.)  

She snatched her necklace from his grip, pushing stray hairs behind her ears. “Jerk.” It came out blurred on the edges. Blaine cackled out of surprise, his defenses retreating with the shock. “Not a thank you?”  

“No,” Tina growled. Her head was swimming now, and she rubbed at her temples. This was stupid. One drink, and she lost all self-control. Who was this frosty idiot, anyway? She looked at her broken chain. “Look, it’s broken now. It's all your fault.” 

“My fault?” He laughed again. Tina looked up. The laugh was kind of cute. His eyes were dark. She conceded, “Okay, my fault, but it's definitely your fault I hit my head. On your head. With your stupid hair.” He touched his hair, offended. “Hey. That braid is way too long for anyone in the current age, so how about you lay off my hair?” Hazel eyes flashed green in the dim light. 

Tina rolled her eyes, reservations disappearing as the alcohol hit her bloodstream. “How would you know what’s current? Look at that satchel. Who carries satchels anymore? More importantly, who caries satchels to a wedding?” She shuffled onto the next stool, so she was right next to him and his bag clutched in his arm, squinting and prodding. “It’s all stained, too. You should totally get that dry cleaned.” She giggled, then looked back up at his face, which was all closed off and tight now. Oh, no. She did something stupid, didn't she? 

Blaine’s face clenched as she rambled on about his bag. So it was old, but it was vintage. More importantly, it was his fathers. Irritation shot through him and he snapped, “Shame you don’t like it. Don’t think my dad would appreciate it, even from the grave. Not sure I should be taking advice from someone with a drunk spider on their arm.” He bit his tongue as soon as he stopped. This was why he didn’t go out or talk to people. He ended up bringing up heavy baggage, and saying the dumbest things.  

Tina recoiled, hand dropping from where she'd prodded the leather. “Oh.” The silence spread, stretching out long and tense.

Then Tina’s drunken self decided to break it. She stuck out her hand. “Um. Sorry about that. About your dad. And about the bag. It's still a weird bag, but I'm sorry. I’m Tina. Lightweight.” His face opened up a little, and he took her hand in his, shaking it. “I’m sorry, too. I'm Blaine, and-”  

But she never got the chance to hear what came after, because then a little kid ran past them, his extended arm knocking Tina head first into him. His arms swung around her to steady them both, inches apart. They froze in that position for a second, the scent of perfume and alcohol mixing, before Tina’s mind blanked. In the heat of the moment, she leaned the rest of the way and kissed him. Whoa. What were the chances of that?

Blaine was shocked, responding for a second before he shoved her away. Tina’s eyes were wide as she fell back, coming to her senses. Her face flushed under her freckles, but as she opened her mouth to speak, a voice cut through the air, in their direction. "Tiiinaaa? Is that youu? NO... with a guy?” It sounded like Becky, but Tina couldn't tell if it actually was her or some other drunk, well-meaning cousin. The crowd was too thick and everything was cloudy. She sure hoped not.

Blaine frowned as he heard the voice, chest constricting as he realized who it belonged to - one of his oldest friends, Becky, who he’d spent the night avoiding. She was always on his case to meet people, and he'd never live this down if she'd seen what just happened. He cursed and got up, dropping money for the drink on the table. Tina was saying something, agonized, but he didn’t wait to listen: he muttered ‘forget it’ beneath his breath and stalked sharply in the other direction. 

Leaving Tina at the bar, embarrassed and confused, some clarity breaking through the fugue. What the hell? Those seconds of her lips on his were the first physical contact she'd had in ages. It had been great for a couple seconds. But then he just iced her out? Huh. Blaine. Well, screw you, Blaine. Thank the heavens she wouldn't ever see him again.

She buttoned up her jacket and stumbled away from the bar, bumping into Becky who was on her way to the bar for another drink, even though she was swaying on her feet. Oh, phew, it wasn't. Tina grabbed her arm and pulled her out the door with her, while the bridesmaids booed and blew kisses as Becky waved tragically. “Any mystery men tonight? Any magical lucky meeting?” Becky bubbled as they slipped into one of the waiting taxis. “None at all,” she’d grumbled. 

And now by some chance (did Becky manifest this? She must have) she was stuck in a rickety elevator with the same guy who’d left her embarrassed at a bar, months ago. 

The doors opened and they walked into the restaurant with its cozy setting, Becks scampering straight for the round table at the centre of the room, the only one available in the busy room. Blaine scowled as they sat. Exactly what he’d tried to avoid. Tina sank into the chair opposite him, eyes burning.  

Becks clasped her hands together, blissfully unaware. “Blaine! Tell her about your work. Promised her a discount and everything, so you better pitch yourself good!” She giggled, expectant,

He leveled his gaze with Tina’s as an idea sparked in his head. “I once did a design for a bar, a while back. New and upcoming, but they’re doing pretty well lately. You might’ve heard of them; they’re called The Gold Thread.” He watched her face, which remained impassive as she nodded, keeping up the charade. “Neat. Haven’t heard of them, though. Are they really that new, or just oldies trying to repurpose themselves for this century?” 

Tina forced herself not to smirk as she delivered this blow. That had to get him. To her dismay, he only reacted with an eyebrow raise. “That’s fair, I guess. They aren’t that popular on this side of the city. Tastes are different, anyway. Quite an elite affair, they are.” He reached over for a menu, browsing through the contents as she shot daggers at his forehead. “I’m going to need to know what your website is aiming for, though. Becks told me it’s writing-based, but I’m going to need a little more than that. What aesthetic? Cutesy, bad cartoon style, halloweeny?”  

He didn’t even sound stupid saying that word, ‘halloween-y’ like a child and not a twenty something, she fumed. Tina picked up her own menu, hiding her spidered hand behind it as she fake-scanned the menu. “No, I’m more about hard facts on human behaviour. You know, the reasons why we are how we are. One of my most popular articles is on the importance of etiquette. In all situations. Whether it’s a interview, or meeting people in a bar. Understanding when someone's drunk, not bringing baggage to the table, all that. ” 

She’d finally gotten under his skin, she could tell. Blaine’s jaw was ticking and he’d dropped the menu, glaring viciously at her. Tina kept her gaze on the menu, hiding her smirk. “Sounds interesting,” he ground out. Ha, she’d finally one-upped him. Serves him right.

A waiter stopped their table. “What will you be having, miss?” Tina raised her eyes to Blaine’s, and pointed to the first dish on the dessert section, without looking at it. “Whatever it is, served cold.” The waiter hummed in approval. “Excellent choice, miss, our signature Revenge dish, with extra ice.” He turned his attention to Blaine. “And you, sir?”  

He didn’t break his gaze. “Same as her, please.” The waiter nodded, approving. “It is our most popular dish, after all.”  

The waiter finally looked to Becky, who’d been watching the interactions silently. Much too silently for her. Blaine and Tina realized this at the same time, and they whipped around to face her, stricken.  

Becky only smiled, twirling a strand of pink hair around her finger. “I’ll have the Serendipity dessert, please. Served warm.” The waiter bowed and took his leave. 

Becky grinned at her friend's shocked faces and rolled her eyes. “Guys. I brought you to a restaurant called Sentiments. You really thought I didn’t notice you guys at the wedding? Even if I didn’t, you guys were spark-ing in the lift. What are the chances of two people going off like that, in a first meeting?" She stood. "It's not just serendipity, babes. I'm the thread connecting you, and sometimes, you can't wait on luck. It's all meant to be. Figure it out.” She winked and left, leaving them both red-cheeked and staring down at their menus. What were the chances?