bubble gum 10, papaya 21, white chocolate 2
Author: carnageincminor
Story Arc: The Art of Losing
Title: Third Verse, Same as the First
Flavours: Bubble Gum 10 (correction), Papaya 21 (on second thought...), White Chocolate 2 (boredom)
Rating: PG - coarse language
Summary: Mila's date with Nick takes a surprise turn.
Word Count: 1,541
THIRD VERSE, SAME AS THE FIRST
Mila
The phone nearly falls out of my hand when I shove it at my bag, blindly aiming for the side pocket while sprinting across George Street during a gap in traffic. As much as I love a good chat with Jamie, she caught me at a bad time. I really couldn't justify holding up my date any longer.
He's already at the table by the time I get to the restaurant, almost twenty minutes late, but he still has this big happy smile when he sees me and gets up from his chair to kiss my cheek.
It's so hard to keep myself from cringing.
"Hey," he says when he pulls back, one hand still lingering at my shoulder.
"So sorry I'm late," I give what I hope is an apologetic smile.
"It's nothing. How've you been?"
"Not too bad. How are you?"
"Pretty good."
We take our places at the table in an awkward silence for about half a minute before he cracks and starts us on the mundane small talk -- he asks about my course, I ask about his work, both of us trying to come up with something interesting to say. And this is our third date.
Why am I still going out with him? We have hardly anything in common. We're not laid back or comfortable together. I only met him a few weeks ago at a friend's birthday party -- he's her brother -- and while he seemed pretty cool that night, things haven't really picked up from there. The main reason why I haven't turned him down yet is because I know I'll feel like I've kicked a puppy if I do. And, I guess it also helps that he's good looking. Not that that means a big deal, if my previous boyfriends are anything to go by.
"So, did you end up getting a new dog like you wanted?"
I look up from my meal, a little surprised he remembered. "Oh, yeah we did. He's a Siberian Husky; he's totally adorable."
"Wow, he's gonna be a big dog," Nick smiles.
"I know, but he's so tiny right now!" I find myself grinning back, mostly the effect of picturing the household's new puppy. Although, it also makes the thought of figuratively kicking puppies even worse.
"Have you named him yet?"
"Of course," I nod. "Rorschach."
He doesn't get it. "Raw... shark?"
"No, Rorschach from Watchmen." His expression remains blank. "Uh, it's a comic book thing."
"Oh. OK."
And... we're back to awkward silence.
We try the pet subject again later since it was going so well -- as it turns out, Nick has a Beagle and a cat, and his family used to have a Rottweiler -- but that's about as lively as the conversation gets before our dinner winds to a close. He insists on getting the bill, and if I had more than a twenty in my wallet I would have protested with more effort but I don't.
While he waits to for his credit card to be returned, he asks, "You wanna see a movie or something?"
"Sorry, I really need to get going home. Have a ton of readings to catch up on." That much is true, at least. I wonder if he feels obligated to ask since the night is still young, because I can't imagine anything worse than dragging this out another two hours. However, strictly speaking, we wouldn't have to talk through a movie.
"No worries," he smiles again, this time weaker as all the enthusiasm he'd maintained throughout the night finally deflates.
Crap, do I feel like a bitch.
The waiter comes back out with the card and receipt.
Nick slips them both into his wallet. "Ready to go?"
"Yeah." I move to stand up. "Um, I'm just gonna go to ladies first; meet you in the foyer?"
"Sure."
I make my way to the restroom at the back, which has only two stalls and three people waiting in line already. I join the queue, leaning against a wall. I gaze idly around the tiny room until I notice that two of the women in line are giving me weird looks, so I catch a glance of myself in the mirror to check if I have something on my face. There's nothing, but they still stare at me like I've sprouted horns on my forehead.
I frown at them, confused.
The woman closer to me shakes her head as if disappointed. "What's wrong with you, girl?"
That completely throws me. "Excuse me?"
"You've got the hottest guy in the restaurant sitting at your table, and all you can do is look completely bored."
Talk about coming out of left field. I think my mouth opens and closes several times before I'm able to string an appropriate response. "Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't aware my date was any of your business," I snap at her.
She shrugs back. "Love, if I were ten years younger I wouldn't hesitate to crash your table and jump your boy. I'm just saying you could do a lot worse."
Her friend nods vigorously like a bobble-head toy but gives me a friendly grin. "A lot worse. If I swapped my boyfriend with yours, it'd be like trading in a shitbox Toyota for an Aston Martin."
I can't be certain whether they're remotely serious or just fucking with me, but I definitely don't want to hang around to hear any more. "OK... I'm glad we had this enlightening conversation, ladies, but now I must go." I backpedal out of the restroom. Surprisingly, I don't hear laughter from inside.
Deciding that I can wait until I get home, I go out looking for Nick in the foyer as agreed. He's facing away from me, on the phone, and I slow down my pace because I don't want to interrupt his call. But then I end up hearing something I'm not supposed to hear due to the terrible acoustics of the reception area.
"No, Kat," he says in a low voice, "I'm pretty sure she doesn't like me."
I stop. Part of me is thinking that I should back off, block my ears, because this is a private conversation with his sister and I'm eavesdropping. On the other hand, natural curiosity wins over because they're talking about me and who could turn away from that?
"Not a disaster, but... pretty bad." There's more talk from the other end. He lets out a brief chuckle without any humour. "Thanks, but I doubt it. Hey, I've gotta go. She'll be out any minute. Yeah OK. See ya."
I duck behind a display cabinet before he can look around and see me, feeling doubly guilty for being a sneak and being so cold to him all night. Maybe I wasn't being fair. Shit, I can practically feel my face going red from shame.
I let a minute pass before I approach Nick again. We walk to the car, side by side but not touching, our jacket sleeves just occasionally brushing against each other. His BMW 3 Series soon comes into view, a gleaming black pearl among the other parked cars along the curb. Office paid for, probably. Unless I missed the part of the conversation about how a graduate's salary is able to afford that.
The drive home is fairly quick, with only the sound of the radio and the engine. Almost inevitably, I find myself thinking about those crazy women in the restroom and their entirely unrequested observations. I suppose he isn't that unbearable. He is a nice guy. Not my type, but not a deal-breaker.
I suppose I could give him another chance.
The car pulls up outside my house, and for once he isn't all smiles or even looking at me. He seems to be staring at the dashboard, face impassive.
"Thanks for dinner," I tell him.
He turns his head slightly, the only light from a nearby streetlamp keeping most of his face in shadow. "You're welcome." His reply is gentle, polite, but it carries a tone of resignation which actually saddens me.
I lean closer, tilting my face up towards him, and place a light kiss on his lips for good night.
He freezes on contact, probably not expecting it after everything that's happened. But when I'm about to pull away, his hand finds the side of my jaw, landing fingers softly there to hold me in place. And then he kisses me. For real.
It's technically our first kiss, not counting the occasional hello/goodbye pecks, and now I can't believe I'd even gone so long without having kissed him. Christ, he's an amazing kisser. I lose all track of time and all higher level thought processes in the middle of the kiss, knowing only that burning lungs compel me to eventually break it.
And we may have both been breathing heavily afterwards with our foreheads pressed together. Details are kind of hazy.
After a minute (or five) I sit back properly in my seat. Nick looks at me expectantly.
"You doing anything Saturday night?" I ask.
His dark eyes twinkle. "Nothing important."
"How about that movie?"
A wide grin breaks out on his face, "I'll pick you up at seven."
"Cool."
Story Arc: The Art of Losing
Title: Third Verse, Same as the First
Flavours: Bubble Gum 10 (correction), Papaya 21 (on second thought...), White Chocolate 2 (boredom)
Rating: PG - coarse language
Summary: Mila's date with Nick takes a surprise turn.
Word Count: 1,541
THIRD VERSE, SAME AS THE FIRST
Mila
The phone nearly falls out of my hand when I shove it at my bag, blindly aiming for the side pocket while sprinting across George Street during a gap in traffic. As much as I love a good chat with Jamie, she caught me at a bad time. I really couldn't justify holding up my date any longer.
He's already at the table by the time I get to the restaurant, almost twenty minutes late, but he still has this big happy smile when he sees me and gets up from his chair to kiss my cheek.
It's so hard to keep myself from cringing.
"Hey," he says when he pulls back, one hand still lingering at my shoulder.
"So sorry I'm late," I give what I hope is an apologetic smile.
"It's nothing. How've you been?"
"Not too bad. How are you?"
"Pretty good."
We take our places at the table in an awkward silence for about half a minute before he cracks and starts us on the mundane small talk -- he asks about my course, I ask about his work, both of us trying to come up with something interesting to say. And this is our third date.
Why am I still going out with him? We have hardly anything in common. We're not laid back or comfortable together. I only met him a few weeks ago at a friend's birthday party -- he's her brother -- and while he seemed pretty cool that night, things haven't really picked up from there. The main reason why I haven't turned him down yet is because I know I'll feel like I've kicked a puppy if I do. And, I guess it also helps that he's good looking. Not that that means a big deal, if my previous boyfriends are anything to go by.
"So, did you end up getting a new dog like you wanted?"
I look up from my meal, a little surprised he remembered. "Oh, yeah we did. He's a Siberian Husky; he's totally adorable."
"Wow, he's gonna be a big dog," Nick smiles.
"I know, but he's so tiny right now!" I find myself grinning back, mostly the effect of picturing the household's new puppy. Although, it also makes the thought of figuratively kicking puppies even worse.
"Have you named him yet?"
"Of course," I nod. "Rorschach."
He doesn't get it. "Raw... shark?"
"No, Rorschach from Watchmen." His expression remains blank. "Uh, it's a comic book thing."
"Oh. OK."
And... we're back to awkward silence.
We try the pet subject again later since it was going so well -- as it turns out, Nick has a Beagle and a cat, and his family used to have a Rottweiler -- but that's about as lively as the conversation gets before our dinner winds to a close. He insists on getting the bill, and if I had more than a twenty in my wallet I would have protested with more effort but I don't.
While he waits to for his credit card to be returned, he asks, "You wanna see a movie or something?"
"Sorry, I really need to get going home. Have a ton of readings to catch up on." That much is true, at least. I wonder if he feels obligated to ask since the night is still young, because I can't imagine anything worse than dragging this out another two hours. However, strictly speaking, we wouldn't have to talk through a movie.
"No worries," he smiles again, this time weaker as all the enthusiasm he'd maintained throughout the night finally deflates.
Crap, do I feel like a bitch.
The waiter comes back out with the card and receipt.
Nick slips them both into his wallet. "Ready to go?"
"Yeah." I move to stand up. "Um, I'm just gonna go to ladies first; meet you in the foyer?"
"Sure."
I make my way to the restroom at the back, which has only two stalls and three people waiting in line already. I join the queue, leaning against a wall. I gaze idly around the tiny room until I notice that two of the women in line are giving me weird looks, so I catch a glance of myself in the mirror to check if I have something on my face. There's nothing, but they still stare at me like I've sprouted horns on my forehead.
I frown at them, confused.
The woman closer to me shakes her head as if disappointed. "What's wrong with you, girl?"
That completely throws me. "Excuse me?"
"You've got the hottest guy in the restaurant sitting at your table, and all you can do is look completely bored."
Talk about coming out of left field. I think my mouth opens and closes several times before I'm able to string an appropriate response. "Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't aware my date was any of your business," I snap at her.
She shrugs back. "Love, if I were ten years younger I wouldn't hesitate to crash your table and jump your boy. I'm just saying you could do a lot worse."
Her friend nods vigorously like a bobble-head toy but gives me a friendly grin. "A lot worse. If I swapped my boyfriend with yours, it'd be like trading in a shitbox Toyota for an Aston Martin."
I can't be certain whether they're remotely serious or just fucking with me, but I definitely don't want to hang around to hear any more. "OK... I'm glad we had this enlightening conversation, ladies, but now I must go." I backpedal out of the restroom. Surprisingly, I don't hear laughter from inside.
Deciding that I can wait until I get home, I go out looking for Nick in the foyer as agreed. He's facing away from me, on the phone, and I slow down my pace because I don't want to interrupt his call. But then I end up hearing something I'm not supposed to hear due to the terrible acoustics of the reception area.
"No, Kat," he says in a low voice, "I'm pretty sure she doesn't like me."
I stop. Part of me is thinking that I should back off, block my ears, because this is a private conversation with his sister and I'm eavesdropping. On the other hand, natural curiosity wins over because they're talking about me and who could turn away from that?
"Not a disaster, but... pretty bad." There's more talk from the other end. He lets out a brief chuckle without any humour. "Thanks, but I doubt it. Hey, I've gotta go. She'll be out any minute. Yeah OK. See ya."
I duck behind a display cabinet before he can look around and see me, feeling doubly guilty for being a sneak and being so cold to him all night. Maybe I wasn't being fair. Shit, I can practically feel my face going red from shame.
I let a minute pass before I approach Nick again. We walk to the car, side by side but not touching, our jacket sleeves just occasionally brushing against each other. His BMW 3 Series soon comes into view, a gleaming black pearl among the other parked cars along the curb. Office paid for, probably. Unless I missed the part of the conversation about how a graduate's salary is able to afford that.
The drive home is fairly quick, with only the sound of the radio and the engine. Almost inevitably, I find myself thinking about those crazy women in the restroom and their entirely unrequested observations. I suppose he isn't that unbearable. He is a nice guy. Not my type, but not a deal-breaker.
I suppose I could give him another chance.
The car pulls up outside my house, and for once he isn't all smiles or even looking at me. He seems to be staring at the dashboard, face impassive.
"Thanks for dinner," I tell him.
He turns his head slightly, the only light from a nearby streetlamp keeping most of his face in shadow. "You're welcome." His reply is gentle, polite, but it carries a tone of resignation which actually saddens me.
I lean closer, tilting my face up towards him, and place a light kiss on his lips for good night.
He freezes on contact, probably not expecting it after everything that's happened. But when I'm about to pull away, his hand finds the side of my jaw, landing fingers softly there to hold me in place. And then he kisses me. For real.
It's technically our first kiss, not counting the occasional hello/goodbye pecks, and now I can't believe I'd even gone so long without having kissed him. Christ, he's an amazing kisser. I lose all track of time and all higher level thought processes in the middle of the kiss, knowing only that burning lungs compel me to eventually break it.
And we may have both been breathing heavily afterwards with our foreheads pressed together. Details are kind of hazy.
After a minute (or five) I sit back properly in my seat. Nick looks at me expectantly.
"You doing anything Saturday night?" I ask.
His dark eyes twinkle. "Nothing important."
"How about that movie?"
A wide grin breaks out on his face, "I'll pick you up at seven."
"Cool."