Action (DNF)

Chapter 82: 7:30pm

George POV

For the past thirty minutes I had been sitting by the closet, trying to decide what I should grab to wear to dinner. Because I wanted to do this for Clay, I had to make sure that I was wearing something that was perfect for him, and the only options that I had were what was sitting in front of me.

My original plan was to wear the exact same thing that I had worn to our first date. The one where he took me to that charity auction without telling me what to expect and that he was a famous actor. But unfortunately, I had left the suit back at my house which was still covered up by crime scene tape.

I also wasn’t able to get there and get it back either way. After all, I don’t have a driver’s licence and there were no buses going from near Clay’s hotel room to my home at this time of the evening. God, this was so difficult. I just wanted to do something nice for him after he's brought so much for me while also wearing something that he’d like.

Usually when I had some kind of fashion crisis such as this one I’d call Wilbur. He always seemed like he had foreign knowledge of the subject which I was never able to understand. But he was working at the moment, and so I had nobody else to call. Not that I didn’t try.

Alongside Wilbur, I had tried calling Karl, Sapnap, Quackity, Niki, Bad, and Skeppy, and they were all busy too with their own jobs or dinner plans. I even considered calling my sister, but hung up the call before she answered. So I was left on my own, and as I glanced at the time on my phone I noticed it was getting closer and closer to 7:30.

After my third, or maybe my fourth look through the closet, I found the perfect outfit. It was one of Clay’s, something I’ve seen him wear once or twice when we’d go out to dinner. I wore my own pair of black dress pants and his dress shirt, one which was a dark green (since I knew he didn’t have any yellow clothes) and fell to almost halfway down my thighs.

Overtop of that I wore a black coat, one which I thought would contrast quite nicely with the shirt, and it did seem to from what I could see. I took my time to judge my appearance in the mirror before realising the time and knowing that I had to hurry up.

The restaurant was only a few streets away, but I knew it probably wouldn’t be easy to get there in this outfit with clothes and shoes that were definitely not meant for running. So after leaving the hotel room and locking the door I hurried to the elevator, during the whole trip I wondered what Clay would be wearing when he got to the restaurant.

Obviously his outfit would not have been as planned out as mine, unless he was going to some kind of formal meeting. I didn’t care though. Just being able to have dinner with the blond after not seeing him all day would be nice. And I wanted to ask where he went, since he never actually said in the note that he left me.

By 7:25pm I had made it to the restaurant and took a couple of moments to regain my breath after hurrying down several long streets. After doing that, and after straightening up my outfit I walked inside, my pupils immediately dilating from the beautiful low lights of the restaurant, an environment which was perfect for couples.

“Good evening sir.” A woman in a tidy uniform said with a small polite nod of her head. “Do you have a reservation?”
“I do.” I responded. “George Davidson, for 7:30. I’m a little bit early.”
“That’s perfectly fine sir. Allow me to take you to your table.” She spoke while beginning to walk.

“Is my date here yet?” I asked as I followed after her, since I knew that Clay was one to like to be early to things such as this.
“You are the first one sir.” She answered, and I felt strange being called the word sir, but regardless I followed after her.

She led me between rows of tables to a circular one by an indoor garden. It was quite nice and provided a lot of privacy so that Clay and I could talk undisturbed. The hostess pulled out my seat for me which I thanked her for before she walked off, telling me that she’d bring ‘my date’ here once he arrived.

I didn’t want to do anything without the blond being here with me, and that included looking over the menu even to order drinks since I always liked to talk with Clay about what there was to eat or drink first. So while waiting I just stared across the table to the empty seat where he’d be sitting any minute now.

7:31pm: Five minutes after I sat down I was still sitting alone, just past 7:30, however I was fine with that. Traffic could get really bad sometimes. Surely he was just in some sort of traffic jam and would be walking through the door at any moment.

7:43pm: I had given up on just waiting and decided to call Clay, after all he was thirteen minutes late. My foot tapped anxiously on the floor as I pulled up his name under my contacts and pressed call. After ringing a few times it went to voicemail causing me to let out a disappointed breath, deciding not to leave a message and I’d just wait a few more minutes.

7:48pm. I decided to leave a message. In fact, I left several. Calling him three times. Texting him six times. Dm-ing him on Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, and Snapchat once or twice. Still though I had no response. I also called the hotel to see if he was there, but they hadn’t seen him since he left in the morning.

7:52pm: The waitress came over several times, asking me if I wanted to order now or if I wanted to continue to wait, her pitiful gaze making me feel even worse. Eventually I relented and she brought a glass of wine for me, but I didn’t feel like drinking as I continued to wait for the blond to turn up.

7:54pm: My fingers and eyes both moved rapidly as I searched all the news sites that I knew of to see if there were any reports of a car crash, or a hostage situation, or just anything to explain why Clay was not here. It was dark, but I had to hold on to some shred of hope that he hadn’t purposefully left me here alone and forgotten about me.

8:06pm: I couldn’t wait any longer. It had been thirty-six minutes since we were meant to meet up and Clay still wasn’t here and none of our friends have any clue as to where he is. It is clear that he had forgotten about me, and so when the waitress came to check on me again I said that I was ready to leave.

As I paid for the glass of wine and the table reservation I somehow managed not to cry. I was biting the inside of my cheek and keeping my gaze to the floor as I fumbled with my card. It seemed everyone else in the restaurant, both the staff and the other diners, were watching me, whispering about the loser who got stood up at one of the fanciest restaurants in London.

The moment I got outside though I slunk into the closest alleyway and began sobbing pathetically at the situation. I felt so hurt and humiliated as my arms hugged my waist and I slid down onto the ground, no longer caring if the outfit I had chosen so carefully for Clay’s enjoyment got dirty.

When I had calmed myself enough to think I managed to pull my phone from my pocket and call Wilbur, needing to talk to somebody about this. I called him and after my phone rang three or four times he answered. “George…” He spoke with a sigh. “Is this important? I have work and I can’t just-”

“Clay abandoned me!” I cut him off with a sob as I shook on the floor.
“Wait… what do you mean Clay abandoned you?” He asked, seeming confused, and he had every right to be as I was feeling the same.
“We made plans for dinner and he didn’t show up.” I cried into the phone.

“Oh.” He paused for a moment as he thought over what to do. “Okay I’ll pick you up. Where are you right now?”
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1496 words