Broken Memories, Intertwined Hearts

This date was over and the woman’s true nature was shining through.
Noel let out a snide chuckle, sipping his coffee leisurely before crossing his legs in a carefree, almost rakish manner. Yet, there was something about
him that didn’t quite spark dislike. He drawled, “Sure, we live in an open-minded era, but you ladies are always parading around with these practical
expectations, wanting a guy with a fancy car, a big house, solid family background. So, if a guy asks a woman to have some self-respect, that’s fair
game, right? Men can keep bringing home the bacon, but women can’t stay spring chickens forever. You ask for my wheels and my estate, so I get to
ask if you’ve kept yourself for me. Don’t call me tacky or old-fashioned, and blame me for still considering virginity in this day and age. What about
you? You are lusting after my lineage, coveting the advantages the Yates name brings your family. No sane man wants to pay for a woman’s reckless
past. Not a virgin? That’s your fault.”
“You...” The woman trembled with indignation, pointing a finger at Noel, but words failed her. Noel, unfazed, continued, “Let me tell you what men
dread: finding a wife’s like buying a used car. Might not care how many previous owners, but you dread the ex still has a key, taking it for a joyride
now and then. It will burn your fuel, and you’re also stuck with the maintenance. So, the safe bet? A virgin. Someone without exes in the picture.”
After a pause, he added, “So, you’re out. Go tell your parents what I said, so they’ll know not to set you up to dupe another guy.”
The woman’s face turned an ashen hue. She slammed her coffee cup down on the table before storming off with her bag. Noel rubbed his temples;
this blind date arranged by his dad wasn’t something he could just brush off. He had to find a way to make the other party back off voluntarily — with
a reason no one in their right social mind would confess. They’d likely just say he wasn’t to their taste or that it wasn’t a good fit. That way, he could

report back without issue.
Phoebe had been eavesdropping, and she couldn’t help but snort, “Egomaniac, so full of yourself.”
Noel had been basking in the glow of his own pontification when he caught the disdainful comment. His eyes narrowed displeasingly as he located
the source. There she was, a woman who had made herself up like a clown, sipping coffee nonchalantly nearby.
He made his way over to Phoebe and sat down across from her, eyeing her for a few seconds before inquiring, “Seems like you have quite the
opinion on my little speech?”
“Not at all. Just think you’re bound to reap what you sow.”
Noel’s smirk stiffened, but then relaxed into a broader grin. “How about this? Looks like your date’s a no-show too, so let me fill in. No use wasting
each other’s time.”
Phoebe cursed inwardly. “What kind of twisted parents arranged back-to-back blind dates, risking a brawl?”
“You are Noel?”

“That’s me. Ms. Wagner.” He smiled, with a hint of amusement.
“I had no idea I’d encounter such an oddity tonight. It seems I’ve been graced with your own pearls of wisdom. Your mindset’s still stuck in the Stone
Age. I guess because you’re used to treating other people’s wives or girlfriends like used cars, taking them for a spin. That’s got to be why you’re
paranoid about winding up with someone’s ex.”
Propping her chin on her hand, Phoebe smirked at Noel. Her makeup was askew to the point of absurdity, looking every bit the part of a modern-day
harpy.

Noel had a sharp tongue, and Phoebe could give as good as she got. They were evenly matched in this verbal sparring.
He was momentarily taken aback. His face barely betrayed a change. Although she was rough around the edges with her words, she was more
appealing than the demure woman before, and he enjoyed someone who could hold their own in conversation.
As for her looks, he recalled briefly glancing at a photo the night before. She wasn’t bad. She just had dolled herself up as a deterrent obviously —
another one out to sabotage the date.
“Ms. Wagner seems awfully familiar with my affairs. Perhaps you’ve been researching me in secret?”
“A word comes to mind: notorious. Unfortunately, you fit the bill perfectly,” Phoebe rolled her eyes.
“Ms. Wagner, I believe this is our first meeting. Why speak in this way? You’re a virgin or you’re not? Someone might think I’ve hit a nerve, and you’re
angry with it.”
Phoebe’s resilience was unshakeable, unfazed by his jibes. Calmly, she retorted, “Oh? Interested in me now?”
“Definitely. A spinster like you is a rare find. I’m considering taking you home to study like a precious relic.”
She laughed lightly, not about to fall for his bait. “You’re terrible at fishing for information.”
Noel’s eyes flickered. She was quick to catch on, a bit intriguing. “Still, someone as aged as you should be married. You got any issues?”
“Your eyesight’s the issue,” she quipped. At 27, she wasn’t quite aged.
“Absolutely no. Ever heard the phrase ‘past her prime’? I’d say you’re well into your thirties.”
The child’s eyes are bright and clear like spring water. A woman in thirties, due to slower ocular metabolism, has dim eyes. Phoebe, a magazine
editor who spent countless hours before a computer screen, couldn’t help but have eyes that betrayed her age, despite the best eye drops she used.

Silently seething, Phoebe maintained her composure, “Noel, I bet a hundred bucks your mouth will keep you from ever finding a wife.”
Noel waved off the concern with a casual flick of his wrist. “That’s not something Ms. Wagner needs to worry about anymore. What we need to focus
on now is how to break the news to our families.”
“Perfect timing,” she replied with a half-smirk, “because I was just about to bring that up. Just like you wanted, I don’t fancy you, not one bit. I’ll have
my parents give your family a call.”