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“No, no no no…” Marcus grumbled as he watched the washing machine go up in smoke. Desperately, he tried to shake it as if that would somehow get it to work.
After shaking and yelling at it did nothing, Marcus quickly shut it off and pulled the soaking wet clothes out of the machine. But, along with the clothes, water poured out and flooded the basement. He thought fast and pulled the machine out from the wall and reached down to shut the water valve off.
“Dad?” Missy called from the top of the stairs once she heard the commotion. She was greeted with a scene straight from a comedy movie: her father stood in the middle of the floor, surrounded by piles of wet clothes and puddles of water. He had the most dejected pout on his face, and she couldn’t help but laugh at how pathetic he looked. “You can save the world but you can’t save our laundry, huh?”
“Hey…” he turned to his daughter with an exaggerated pout, but he couldn’t hold it as they both burst into laughter. As Missy came all the way down the steps and helped him clean up, Marcus suggested, “How about a trip to the laundromat?”
It wasn’t the ideal father/daughter day, but Marcus always tried to make the best of any situation. He stopped to get some snacks and hot chocolates for while they waited for their laundry, and Missy just enjoyed the time with her dad. They sat together on the bench and just talked while they watched their clothes tumble when someone caught Missy’s eye.
You stood on the end of the row as you moved your own laundry from the washing machine to the dryer. You had your headphones in and danced to the music, and Missy could just feel the fun energy radiate off of you. But what really caught her eye was your shirt: it was the exact same one as Missy had. She knew that signature cute little skull anywhere.
“Dad! Dad!” she tugged at his shirt, “Look!”
Marcus choked on the hot chocolate he had tried to sip as he looked up and followed where Missy’s finger pointed. He froze as he watched you shake your hips in a little dance without a care in the world as to who watched. Your smile lit up the room while you lip synced to your song, and of course Marcus noticed the shirt you wore.
“Dad… Dad?” Missy nudged him again.
“What?” he jumped slightly as he broke his gaze off of you.
“You’re staring,” he rolled her eyes playfully, “Go say hi!”
Marcus’ mouth hung open for a moment before he quipped back, “Don’t you see ‘don’t talk to me?’”
Just then, you dropped your phone and it hit the ground with a loud crash. Marcus and Missy shared a knowing look before he darted up and rushed over to you. But, you had already bent over to pick up your phone and he ended up smacking your heads together.
“Sorry!”
“Sorry!”
Missy slumped over and hid her face in her hands; her father was rustier than she thought.
Both you and Marcus looked up at the same time, your hands each on your own foreheads. You were more startled than anything, but when you saw who bumped into you, all other feelings melted away and you were struck with how handsome he was. His eyes were soft and kind behind his glasses, and he apologized again as he picked up your phone and gently placed it in your hand.
“N-no problem,” you stuttered as you suddenly forgot how to form words as his hand lingered on yours.
“Let me help you up,” he said as he gripped your hand tighter and lifted you both up to stand, “I uhh… I like your shirt,” he mumbled. Marcus wasn’t sure what to say, but he found that he didn’t want the interaction to end just yet.
You smiled so brightly and Marcus swore his heart skipped a beat, “Thanks, it’s one of my favorites,” you paused for a moment before you introduced yourself with your name.
“It’s one of my daughter’s go-to too,” he smiled back at you, “I’m Marcus,” he shook your hand before he added, “And that’s my daughter, Missy,” he glanced over his shoulder at the girl who peeked out from between her fingers. But when she saw that both your eyes were on her, she dropped her hands and smiled brightly as she waved a hello at you.
“She’s beautiful,” you waved back before you glanced down to find that you and Marcus still held hands. Your phone remained wedged in your grips and you got an idea, “If you like,” you took a breath to steady your nerves, “You can put your number in my phone and we can go out for hot chocolates sometime,” you nodded down to his shirt, “To drink, not to wear.”
Marcus furrowed his brows before he looked down to see a large stain on his shirt from when he choked on his drink before he ran over to you. He couldn’t help but laugh, “I’d like that.”