A Work Of Fiction

"Are there any decent men left in the world?" I groaned to myself, trying with difficulty to forget the horrible date that I'd just been on. I couldn't, however, suppress the cringe that formed when I recalled the disaster of my date.

I'd been on pretty bad ones in my twenty-one years of living but this one was by far the worst, and for a good reason. The guy who had asked me out was named Embry and we'd gone to my least favourite restaurant in town for our date.

Two hours previous:

"So, what do you do for a living, Bella?" Embry asked almost incoherently, his mouth stuffed with meat, gravy dripping from the corner of his mouth.

I leant back in my chair with distaste. Up until a few seconds ago I'd found him to be quite attractive – he sported a decent set of muscles and his eyes were a striking blue – but now I found him to be repulsive, comparable to a grubby pig. Now all of his flaws struck me like a red stop sign. It was impossible to ignore how bushy his eyebrows were, how his mouth wasn't big enough to support all the food forced in there, how his voice had an annoying twang and how his eyes kept glancing over to the table on our left. He'd shovelled the food in his mouth with his hands as soon as it had been placed on the table, so quickly that I hadn't even had a chance to pick up my own fork. He hadn't even bothered with his.

I frowned. "I'm a writer."

"That's no way to make a living. You should become a doctor or something. At least you'll be able to afford to eat at places like this every week."

"Money is not the centre of my life. I do what I love."

He snorted. "Well, I love money so I do whatever I can to get it."

Good for him. He sounded like a total jerk!

"So what compelled you to ask me out?" I asked curiously, picking at my tuna salad with my fork. This was the only question I'd asked tonight that I was interested in hearing the answer to.

"Well, you're probably going to be really pissed at me but I did what I had to do."

My eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, my ex-girlfriend Claire is here with her boyfriend, and I wanted to make her jealous. You were the first pretty girl I saw, Swan." He grinned, oblivious to the fury rising inside of me at being used.

"You asshole!" I hissed, resisting the urge to backhand him across the face. "How dare you! Don't think of calling me ever again. Oh, and by the way, you can pay."

I grabbed my bag quickly and forced myself to breathe evenly in order to calm myself down, before calmly leaving the restaurant. Angry tears slipped unbidden out of my eyes and I wiped them away furiously, more embarrassed than upset by our display and the fact that I had been used.

Even though I hadn't been in a good state to drive, I'd still managed, and without any casualties, too. I was glad that I no longer lived with my father, Charlie, who was a cop and would've scolded me for driving so recklessly on the road, but I had to get home. I'd only been living in my apartment in Seattle for little under a year but it didn't feel like it was that long ago that I'd been under parental reign. I'd been relieved when Charlie had let me move out and even more so when he'd let me have a few GAP years so I could write. He understood my passion for it more than my mother ever had. I worked every Saturday at a nearby Starbucks to pay the bills, buying my apartment with some of the money from my college fund. Charlie had pitched in a little, too.

Looking at my apartment now, wine in hand, and staring moodily at the vacant sofa and sensing the room's general emptiness, reminded me of why I'd gone on the date in the first place. I hated being alone and for once in my life, I needed someone. I needed someone to hold me when I was upset, someone who understood my needs, someone who always put me first not himself… a gentleman.