Mister Missed Her - Chapter Two
…or at least a snippet of it…
Last chapter, you could have chosen: “At dinner, His psycho ex-girlfriend is stalking them.”
Instead, this happens…
The Boyfriend
They hadn’t really looked to make sure the place was Italian. It looked nice though, and had the decor and the ambience; just the right touches of bright colour mixed with rustic paneling, while some crooning background accordions honked promises of love to an unlistening audience. Either Italian or French, most likely.
He pulled a chair out for her.
“Ooh,” she cooed, flashing him a smile. “Chivalry. Haven’t they killed that yet, or are you going for brownie points?”
He shrugged. “I’m just gentlemanly that way.”
She arched an eyebrow. “A gentleman would give his name.”
“I’m afraid for now the lady will have to settle for the chair,” he demurred.
“I see. Why thank you then, kind sir,” she dimpled, bobbing a mock-curtsey. Then she walked around the table and pulled out the other chair for him.
Both grinned at the same time. Composing themselves, each lifted their noses and solemnly circled the table to sit in the chairs each had pulled out for the other. And thus the games continued.
“Is this where you wow me with your class and worldly wisdom?” she asked, setting her napkin in her lap.
“No wowing. To wow is old-school fakery. This shall be a wow-free excursion.”
“Good. Flattery isn’t why I accepted this interview.”
He blinked, snorting a laugh.
“What?” she said.
“Nothing, I just … never thought of it that way. I like your perspective.”
She was absolutely right, after all. What was a first date if not an exchange of romance applications? He smiled despite himself. She had only been stunningly beautiful to him before. Now she threatened to upgrade into seriously attractive. In his estimation, most people were content to erect life guidelines composed of dusty clichés and mass opinion. People who could think for themselves, people who weren’t people-pleasers, got his attention.
“Have I got something on my face?” she said, sipping her water. The waiter had been very efficient, sweeping in and out like a soft chuckle.
He was staring and he knew it. No, it wasn’t staring, it was active noticing. And they both knew it.
He nodded gently. “I think you do.”
She leaned forward with a wicked smile. “Get it for me?”
He leaned forward to press his smile against hers. He would have succeeded, too.
“Hey babe. Who’s this?”
The voice was grainy and gruff as scorched oak. Solid rather than airy, but not growling like a sea monster. Its owner was thick in all the places that deflated potential aggressors, although his middle hinted at a softer layer beginning its slow siege for the belly and hips. The newcomer’s jawline hinted at a transition from strong to sagging, and he bore a short, crisp haircut.
He sat back from the almost-kiss, restraining a sigh. She had spun and now sat stunned, wide-eyed and blushing at the big newcomer.
He managed to recover in time to catch her reaction too. The corners of his mouth drooped. Well, he thought, that’s a shame.
“And you are?” the intruder said, extending a hand.
“Just leaving,” he smiled, pushing back his chair and standing.
“S’not what it looked like,” new guy said, raising his eyebrows and loosely pursing his lips.
“Yeah, well, looks and all that. Enjoy your evening.” He turned to go.
He would have succeeded at that, too. But it was a night of near-misses.
A great voice booms.
“A fog obscures your vision. You can see no further, unless …
I wonder …
do you have it in you to become a forger of fates?”
PLEASE NOTE: the above price is in USD.
