The Meet Cute

Each week Scribophile post a weekly writing challenge where aspiring authors get a prompt, a word limit and a deadline to produce a short story. This is the story I wrote based on the following prompt:

Write a story or scene about the beginning of a new relationship.

The “meet cute” is a mainstay of romance novels, although it’s actually not limited to romance; you can use this plot trope in any kind of story. It refers to the first moment when two people connect in an unexpected way (there’s also the closely related “meet cringe”, in which two people connect over an embarrassing moment).

This might be the start of a romantic relationship, a deep friendship, or the begrudging respect of two nemeses who will go down in history. Or, it could be that someone is meeting a family member for the very first time. Whatever relationship you choose to pursue, it should explore what happens when two personalities find themselves, for better or worse, occupying each other’s space.

Think about which perspective you’re going to follow. It could be one or the other, or you might decide to write a dual PoV and follow both characters. In this case, it’s best to start with one before moving over to the other one a little later. Will this be an intimate first-person point of view? A close third-person voice? Or, you might decide to try something different.

This is an opportunity to really dig into the drama, joys, and agonies of human emotion. What is each of these characters going through right before they meet? And what about right after? How do these emotional states inform what happens next?

Both characters are on an independent journey of their own. This chance meeting will either support or derail those journeys (or both) in some way. Remember to look for opportunities to create tension and conflict, otherwise there’s no story.

Just One Day

The smell of iron, of blood, hung in the air as I heaved for breath. The adrenaline had sustained me throughout the fight, which had lasted way too long, but now I could feel the weight of it all come crashing down. I plunged my sword into the ground and leaned on it, steading myself as to not topple over from exhaustion.

But you can never let them know how tired you are, so I made sure to keep my back straight and my head high. Let them think I still had a lot to give. Let them think I wouldn’t be splayed on the ground as weak as a newborn babe if not for the sword.

I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and sleep for a day or two, but instead I looked over at the villagers. I let my gaze move over their faces. Faces filled with fear, anger, and sorrow. But mostly fear. They knew I had bested their protector, that their last line of defense was gone.

Which isn’t true at all. A dozen villagers armed with pitchforks and the fury of God in them can drive off an equal number of sellswords. Heck, they could drive off twice their number of sellswords. We’re in it only for the money, while they fight for their homes, their family and their way of living. Something worth dying for. Sometimes I wonder what that would feel like. To fight for something more than lining my pockets…

My gaze drifted from their faces to that of the man lying on the ground in front of me. He had given it all. Such fury, such passion. I've not seen that since… It doesn't matter. Now his life is over. Because he could not accept defeat. It didn't have to come to this. I was only here to scare them. They refused to accept their Lord's new terms, so he sent me to scare them. I tried to scare them. I tried to intimidate him. But he would not give up. He continued fighting to the bitter end.

"Go home," I said through gritted teeth, my anger at the waste of life in front of me fueling my voice. "Let no more blood spill today. Go home and tomorrow prepare the goods you owe your Lord."

I stood up straight, drew my sword out of the ground, and once again let my gaze move across their faces. Many of them averted their eyes, and for the few who still met my gaze, no residue of anger remained. They had challenged the Lord. And they had lost. They knew it. Then my eyes met hers.

She was a little thing. Barely reaching my shoulders in height. Her face was not comely. It told a story of a rough life. A life of hard labor and not enough food. An unremarkable face. A face I would not have offered a second glance had I passed her in the village. Maybe I had. I wouldn't remember. But her eyes… they gave me pause. She did not avert them, nor were they filled with sorrow or defeat. Her head was tilted slightly to the side, her eyebrows furrowed, and her eyes filled with curiosity. She was studying me, and despite the warmth from the summer sun still high in the sky, a chill ran down my spine.

"Leave!" I barked. The message was for all of them, but my eyes were locked with hers. I lifted my sword over my shoulder and broadened my stance. I would not let them see weakness. Then I broke her gaze and turned away. I strode over to my gelding, who had stood by during the entire fight, unconcerned with the activities of men. He had seen his fair share of violence. Today was just another day for him. His only concern was for the apple I grabbed from the satchel on his side and handed to him.

I could hear the villagers shuffle away behind me, back to their homes. To share the news of the fate of their protector. And God willing, to prepare their Lord's payment. If they didn't, it meant I had failed, and the poor fool had died for nothing. Speaking of the fool, the least I could do was to clean him up before they came to retrieve him. I turned around and nearly jumped out of my skin as I came face to face with her.

She had not left with the others. She had stayed behind. Worse, she had moved. She had walked up to my back, and I hadn't heard a thing. If she had been carrying a blade, she could have plunged it into my neck before I'd had a chance to react. A blade… just like the dagger clutched in her right hand, pointed at my groin.

"You tried to save him," she said. Not a question. A fact. Her large, slightly oval eyes, the color of hazel, were studying my face.

Puzzled by her statement, and acutely aware of how close her dagger was to my nethers, my mind raced to find the proper reply, but before I managed, she continued.

"I was supposed to be backup. A last resort if Anders fell. Use this"—she lifted the dagger up between our faces—"to end you."

"Then why didn't you?" I said, finally.

"Because you tried to save him."

"I didn't save him. I killed him. It was my sword that tore him open." I nudged my sword, lying on the ground, out of reach, still stained red, with my foot for emphasis.

"Because Anders was a fool. You knocked him off his feet but didn't finish him when he was struggling to get up. You gave him time to yield."

"Maybe I simply was too slow?"

"No, I saw you step back with purpose. And when he lunged for you, you started on The Crow's Flight, but instead of moving in after the sidestep, you stood down. Half a dozen times you gave Anders a chance to yield."

"How... how does a country girl like you know the Forms?" I blurted out, not attempting to deny her claims.

"Our father owned the only blade in the village. He trained Anders his whole life, but I was there, always watching, learning."

"Your father... so he was—"

"—Anders was my brother, yes."

"Oh, I am sorry." I did not like learning who they were. Best I just remember them as faceless strangers. I did not need to know who they left behind.

"I know," the unusual girl said. "That's why I didn't kill you."

"Mercy for the regretful killer?"

"No. I don't like wasting opportunities."

"Opport—"

"Our protector is dead. We need a new one."

"A new... hah!" I laughed. The girl had lost her mind. "Get lost. Run back home," I said, shoving her away with force, no longer fearing her blade.

She quickly stepped back and stood on her toes, trying to put her face in mine, but managing only to reach my collarbone. "No!" she said, locking her eyes with mine once again. " We will refuse the worm that calls himself our Lord, and then he will send someone else. More will die. We need you!"

"That is not my problem. Why should I risk my skin for you?" I tried to avert my eyes, but it was as if she had ensnared them. I couldn't look away.

"Because you need us," she said quietly. "You are lost."

It was as if a giant had punched me in the gut. How could this backwater girl see through me so easily? Nothing good could come from me staying here a moment longer. I picked her up and threw her to the side, and began packing my bags. "Go!" I shouted.

She did not speak as I finished my packing and climbed onto my horse, but I could feel her eyes on my back the entire time. As I spurred my horse and started trotting away, she finally spoke, raising her voice as I rode on. "One day. Stay one day, and you will no longer be lost." Her final words a shout.

I kept riding. I needed to get away. There's nothing for me there. I did my job. I will get my coin and never return. I closed my eyes, and I saw hers. All I had to do was keep riding. I am not lost. I don't need a purpose. I don't need... her.

With a soft curse, I turned around and started riding back. Just for one day. Just one day.