Omega steps out of his Lyft and comes into the restaurant, already beginning to panic-sweat. "Good evening, sir," says an extremely stuffy looking older man in a suit, standing behind a podium in the entryway. "Table for one?"
"Uh y-no, thank you. I mean, I'm meeting someone. They're here?" Omega's eyes dance around the entryway as if Terzo is going to somehow sense his panic and materialize out of a wall to come to his rescue.
"Of course, sir. Go right ahead." The host waves him through, and Omega hurries through the arched doorway into the main room of the restaurant. He is immediately out of his depth, couples at every table, candles lit between them, just making the already romantic lighting even more intimate. Omega is beginning to understand why this is a confidence test, and why Terzo wasn't waiting for him out front. He has to put his nerves aside and make his way through the restaurant. Lesson one.
Omega takes a moment to breathe and pat his clammy hands dry on his dark blue slacks, a bad habit that he knows Terzo would criticize if he had seen it. But he didn't, so fuck it, Omega is a rebel. He holds on to that attitude for all of fifteen seconds as he weaves through tables and around pillars, feeling like every eye in the place is on him, and none of them are the eyes he wants to be watched by. Heart pounding, Omega reaches the back of the restaurant, suddenly worried that Terzo isn't here at all, and this had all been some sadistic game. But he scoots around a pillar, and there, in almost the last table in the place, sits Terzo, calmly sipping from a chilled glass of water.
Omega's relief is overwhelming, and he rushes to the table, a little lightheaded as the adrenaline begins to recede. "Terzo, you're here," Omega says with a smile bordering on grateful.
"And you found me. Very good. You made it all the way here." Terzo stands to greet him, coming around the table to shake Omega's hand. He doesn't mention the clamminess, and Omega appreciates that. Terzo looks Omega over, and he smiles, reaching to adjust the collar of the white button up Omega's wearing, making sure it lays correctly against the neck of the thin sweater he'd pulled on over it. "I like this look. Cashmere sweater over a contrast dress shirt is a classic look, and the blue makes your eyes shine. Very nice, Omega. I couldn't be more pleased with you."
Heat creeps up Omega's neck, and pools low in his gut, a spark of arousal flaring to life. "I should sit," he says quickly, making for the chair, because in a minute he's going to embarrass himself with an inappropriate erection and then he's going to have to move to Europe.
"Of course. Allow me." Terzo moves and pulls out his chair, waiting for Omega to sit. As he does, Terzo scoots the chair in, a perfect gentleman. At least, until Terzo bends to murmur, "You really did make my heart skip, Omega," in his ear, and Omega's budding erection goes from 'soon' to 'NOW' in a dizzying rush.
Holy shit, oh fuck my life, Omega thinks, gripping the edge of the white tablecloth. His face is flaming, he can feel it, and the throbbing between his legs is going nowhere fast. Terzo doesn't seem to notice a thing, returning to his seat and motioning to a waiter, who hurries over with menus and a pitcher of ice water. The man pours Omega a glass and leaves the menus behind, and Omega quickly raises his just to have something to hide his reddened face behind.
"Don't hide behind your menu like a child," Terzo scolds, reaching over to tip Omega's menu down so that Terzo can see his face. "It's rude, and you have nothing to worry about." His tone softens, and he smiles slightly. "I know you're nervous, but you've done well so far. You're hardly the lost cause I expected, Omega."
