Tightrope

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The restaurant was symptomatic of excessive upper-class wealth. It was a small and intimate venue, with perhaps only ten tables artfully decorated with vases and centrepieces. The portions were roughly the size of my pinky finger, and the patrons wee almost exclusively old white men. Most of them were wearing golfing shirts, clearly arriving after a long day on the green.

I hated it.

But I'd asked Knight to set me up on this date—had practically begged him—and it was what I wanted. It was. Just maybe, preferably, a cute, low-key street food dinner in the city rather than a garish nightmare of tiny steaks and weird relishes. I was cultured in the entitled, selfish way that rich people could be, but not in the genuinely-enjoy-the-finer-things-in-life kind of way.

It seemed that whoever Knight had set me up with did not share a similar opinion. Or maybe he was just trying to make me comfortable, to impress me; I could give this guy the benefit of the doubt.

I stood at the entrance and dragged my hands down my black dress. It was tight, but classy. Conservative, but with a slit down the thigh that was a little bit flirty. The perfect first date dress, paired with a pair of white sneakers that sat just on the borderline of acceptable for a venue such as this. I hoped that this guy was worth dressing up for; I even had a seductive streak of makeup on my eyelids in a smoky style.

The pretty waitress at the entrance was giving me an odd look, as if wondering why I was loitering at the doorway. I inhaled deeply and strutted forward to meet the hostess and smiled sweetly at her. "Good evening—" I read her name tag "—Madeleine. I'm here to meet someone? I believe a reservation was made under the name Aster."

Knight had told me two things about the guy I was going out with tonight. Firstly, his surname was Aster. Secondly, I was sure to have an exciting and eventful night. Exciting and eventful was exactly what I needed to drive Jace Hartley from my mind.

Madeleine raised an eyebrow. "Aster?"

I looked down at my phone to check the text message from Knight. Check in under the name Aster. "Yes?" I hedged. Her tone wasn't one of clarification, but of disbelief. It was, quite frankly, very weird.

But Madeleine just shrugged slightly and pasted on a friendly serving smile. There was still something hard in the set of her jaw, but it wasn't betrayed by her voice when she said, "No problem, I'll show you to your table."

Two menus in hand, Madeleine led the way to an intimate booth in the darkened back corner of the restaurant, her full-bodied and glossy ponytail swishing from side to side like a shampoo commercial as she walked. I followed behind her, clutching at my handbag protectively. I usually liked first dates; I was narcissistic enough that I very much enjoyed chitchat about myself and my interests, and honest enough to admit it. But something about this date was already strange, slightly off, and the guy hadn't even shown up yet.

I settled myself into my seat, listening intently as Madeleine rattled off the specials and offered drinks for while I waited. I kindly declined her offer, hoping that Aster would show up soon; sitting alone was deeply uncomfortable, and it made me ever more grateful for the invention of the mobile phone.

Madeleine smiled. "Just let me know if you need anything, and when your guest arrives, I'll drop by for your drink order."

"Thank you," I said.

She made her way back to the hostess stand. I went to pull my phone out of my pocket, but before my attention was properly grabbed by my Instagram notifications, I saw Madeleine making eyes at another pretty young waitress behind the bar. The girl—a stunning strawberry blonde girl with a dear-in-the-headlights expression—was giving Madeleine the classic cease and desist look, which faded into something like horror when a boy walked through the front doors. The boy was cute; curly brown hair, a sharp jaw, pretty eyes, every pore oozing excessive wealth and confidence. He strutted a little bit, ever so full of himself, but then again, so was I, so I could hardly hold it against him. I saw his gaze fall on Madeleine, and the imperceptible widening of his eyes, but I looked down at my phone rapidly, not wanting to be caught staring, despite my desperation to watch the girls' faces carefully.