in which, the girl you’re babysitting goes up to simon and tries to play matchmaker
The kid you were babysitting was a menace. A twelve-year-old girl who thinks that she’s an adult and carries her little, pink purse around, pretending like she was paying for the outings.
Ophelia was her name; her parents made it clear that she was the princess of the household. She was the only child, got expensive clothes, makeup and skincare. You thought the epidemic of pre-teen-wannabe-teens was only online until you had to deal with her Thursdays through Saturdays.
Going out with her in public was hellish; she walked beside you with her rectangular sunglasses, slick back ponytail and dressed from head-to-toe in Givenchy. Let’s not forget the phone in her hand; the latest model that you couldn’t afford to even trade-in your current phone.
“And Gracie said that Cayden and Hayden were being such losers. Because Cayden kept on cutting off the teacher while she was teaching and Hayden was making noises in class. Ugh— I feel so bad for Gracie,” Ophelia rambled on, her blonde ponytail swinging side to side as she walked besides you in the busy street.
“Mhm,” you hummed out, staring ahead of you as your eyes landed on the grocery store ahead. Ophelia wanted some crisps. And when Ophelia wants something, Ophelia gets it. “Isn’t Gracie with Cayden?” you asked. You’re not sure why you’re entraining this. Maybe it’s so you could keep your job.
Ophelia glanced up at you and gasped, “I didn’t tell you? Okay— Wait, Gracie was dating Hayden, not Cayden. But no, she broke up with him last night because Hayden told Dylan that he found Alex pretty and Dylan told Gracie,” she tells you.
Too many names, too many stories, you’re starting to lose IQ.
The two of you enter the grocery store, Ophelia walking ahead as per usual while you tagged behind. “… Huh,” was all you could think of to say. As you made your way over to the crisps aisle, you glanced up at the bags on the shelf and picked one out for yourself. If you couldn’t buy alcohol right now to drown out her rambles, might as well get something to snack on while listening to her drama-filled life. “Are you getting your—“ you glanced over at where she should be, only to find the aisle completely empty.
Your mind short circuit as you stood there, crisps in hand and lips parted in shock. Ophelia’s strawberry perfume was still lingering in the air, indicating that the girl had just left. How in the world did she manage that? Her little heels weren’t exactly the quietest.
“Ophelia—?” you called out in a panic, the realization finally settling in. You just managed to lose a pre-teen and somehow, that was worse than loosing a toddler. Stuffing the bag of crisps back on the shelf, you ran out of the aisle to look for her. “Ophelia,” you called out again, rounding the corner to check the next aisle. As soon as you did, you almost walked head first into a woman, “I’m so sorry,” you say apologetically, throwing your hands up.
The woman didn’t spare you a glance. She stepped to the side, letting out a quiet sigh of annoyance before walking away. As she did, that’s when you heard the familiar high pitched voice.
“You should totes meet my sitter. They’re like, a bit of a loser but I think they have to act like that because my parents are paying them to watch me.”
You quickly made your way down to the next aisle just in time to see Ophelia standing in front of a wall of a man, built like he belonged in some super-hero movie but dressed like he was about to rob a house. He stood there holding a can of beans and an energy drink, peering down at the little girl with a deadpanned expression. “Suppose that’s ‘em?” he say dryly, nodding over to you without looking away from the girl.
Ophelia looks over her shoulders, her eyes widening a bit. “Gosh, you weren’t suppose to come over yet! I’m trying to find you a husband! Go away!” she shooed you, her manicured, glitter frenchies glimmering under the white light.
You ignored the plea from the girl and made your way over, sending him an embarrassing smile, “sorry— she doesn’t wander off.. Usually,” you say, grabbing her by the shoulders and tried to guide her away from the stranger.
Her parents would kill you if they found out that their daughter was speaking to strange, scary men. 
“He said his name is Simon! And he’s totes not chopped cheese! C’mon, you can’t stay single and alone forever, it’s getting sad!” Ophelia complained, planting her heels to the ground to prevent further distance from him.
You ignore the kid, still sending Simon an embarrassed smile as you try to pick her up or slide her out of the aisle. 
Instead, Ophelia grabs ahold of your arm and tries tugging you closer to Simon, “you said you liked a hot guy with tattoos and muscles! He’s literally giving hottie next door! I’m trying to set you up! Ugh!” she complains.
Pre-teens don’t have a filter, it seems. You stopped moving, hands still gripping her shoulders as you stared at Simon with wide eyes and jaw dropped. “I don’t— I don’t know where she’s getting that from,” you say, nervously laughing.
All while, Simon is staring between you and Ophelia, trying not to break his stoic character. He can’t help but to stifle a small smile though. “Has her matchmaking ever worked?” he finally spoke up, tilting his head.
You stood behind Ophelia, mentally preparing your speech about “stranger danger” to her when you leave. Giving Simon an awkward smile, you shook your head, “she’s not exactly good at putting me out there,” you replied.
Ophelia scoffed, “am so,” she murmured under her breath.
Simon raises an eyebrow and glances at Ophelia before looking back up at you. “…Like t’… say she is,” he replies, shrugging a bit. He looked down at the aisle, as if he was waiting for someone to jump out and catch him acting out of character before slowly turning back to the two of you. “Simon— Simon Riley,” he introduces himself, extending his hand out to you.
You blinked. Not once, not twice, but three consecutive times as you stared down at his extended hand.
It must’ve been a long pause because Ophelia grabbed your hand from her shoulder and tugged you closer to Simon, “and this is why you’re single! Gosh, youre the worst sitter!”
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