Backstage || scott hoying

Chapter 7

~Skylar

I walk into the restaurant that Scott recommended for our "date." I searched my closet for the perfect dress and finally decided to wear my long flowy crimson red dress that reached below my ankles, nearly covering my black heels. I tried every style for my hair before getting frustrated and putting my hair up in a bun and keeping my bangs out. I had put on some light makeup and put on my necklace that Scott sent me in the mail.

I approached the desk near the door and was greeted by a short man with brown balding hair.

"Do you have a reservation?" he asks.

"Yes, reservation for Scott Hoying," I say. He checks his list and after checking it off, he begins to lead me to my table.

"This is your table. Enjoy your date," he says before returning to his desk, ready to serve whatever customer comes in next. I look up from my toes to meet Scott's eyes. He looks so handsome, it's been so long. I finally break our stare to sit down across from him.

"So, um, this is a beautiful restaurant," I nervously say trying to start up a conversation.

"Yeah, I love this place," Scott says, never taking his eyes off of me.

"It's been a long time..." I blurt out. "I'm sorry for breaking our connection," I look down into my lap, feeling the guilt and embarrassment radiate off of me, leaving tension in the air.

"I could never be mad at you," he says. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too. And I'm not just saying that. It's been a rough three years without you," I say. He's smiling to himself, knowing that I was affected, too, by our miscommunication.

"Let's decide what we want to eat," he says, picking up the pile of menus and handing me one. I scan the menu, looking through their various selection of soups, pastas, salads, sandwiches. There's no way I'm going to decide what I want. I choose to look through the pasta section and pick something from there. There's spaghetti, linguini, fettuccine, macaroni. Any type of noodle you could think of, they have it. I decide on the seafood fettuccine.

"Are you ready to order?" the waitress asks, having her pen and pad ready.

"Yes, can I have the seafood fettuccine and a lemonade for my drink, please?" I say, closing my menu and setting it to the side.

"And for you, Scott?" They know his name here? How often does he come?

"I'll have my usual, Maria," he says, closing the menu and handing mine and his to the waitress, who is apparently named Maria. He has a usual? He most come here A LOT.

"You have a usual?" I ask him after Maria leaves with our order.

"Yeah, I come here a lot. It's like a home to me, the staff is like a family," he says, getting all giddy talking about he restaurant.

"They have so much food, how can you choose one thing?" I ask.

"They have REALLY good lobster linguini," he says. Oh yeah, I remember he was talking highly of their lobster linguini in our texts.

"Is there seafood fettuccine any good?" I ask, not wanting to order something and not eat it.

"Yes, it's so delicious. That's my second favorite on the menu," he says.

"Good, good," I mutter, making the conversation fall.

"So, how have you been lately?" he asks.

"Okay I guess, a little lonely since I haven't been talking to you," I admit.