Clear

Clear: Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Diversifying Stocks

I pinched my lips and surveyed the block. I wasn't going to pretend I couldn't believe I was doing this. Meeting Mr. Leoné for lunch on a Saturday afternoon was a real thing I agreed to. This isn't weird, this isn't weird, this isn't weird.

Still, I felt like an over-pumped balloon, afraid for any sharp object to make me burst. And the man I waited for was a needle.

He took the train? It was hard for my brain to process him doing normal things or dealing with subway mayhem. Admittedly, he looked nice in more casual clothes. His boots and pants still looked crisp and able to pair well if he wore a suit jacket over the light blue dress shirt. It wasn't a date, but I did have to try to look presentable since the restaurant had a three out of five dollar sign rating. The upside of unpacking is I was able to see all my clothes again. I forgot I had a nice pair of wide-leg pants with a tie waist, and I paired it with a black cami bodysuit to finish with a heeled sandal.

On his approach, his eyes swept my frame. I felt more inflated. It was just a casual outing, I shouldn't have stiffened. But I gave my reaction a reevaluation. I would have reacted the same from anyone looking at me. It's not him. It's you.

"Good afternoon, Ada," he said, wearing a smile insecurely.

I arched my brows and replied dryly, "Afternoon."

"Shall we go?"

He grabbed the door for me, I held the strap of my little purse before walking inside. Already, I felt frustrated. Whatever cologne he wore got on my nerves. It smelled so good. I surveyed the room, as he informed the hostess there was a reservation for two. We agreed to eat at a Meditteraen spot. Inside it was an alluring mixture of contemporary and Morrocan designs. There were textured, bulbous glass lights over heavy accents of wood and organic textures and walls covered in tiles in varying Morrocan trellis patterns.

The host seated us close to a window. I was glad to be next to the sunlight because it was freezing inside.

I looked at Mr. Leoné. It seemed neither of us could look each other straight in the eye just yet. Maybe there was a silent understanding we shouldn't start talking until after the waiter made their first appearance. I didn't know, for sure but I refused to believe that he was nervous. Thank god it was too cold to sweat!

As assumed, we were kindly greeted by an attractive waiter. He asked for our drinks cheerfully and made sure not to depart without giving me a wink. Flattered, I curled my lips to hide my smile until I saw Mr. Leoné examining my face.

"How are you?" he asked, unable to keep his firmness from a friendly question.

"I'm well," I shrugged, looking at the menu. "And you?"

He looked out the window briefly. "I'm also well. Actually, that's not entirely true."

"Why is that?"

Unfortunately, the waiter returned with our beverages. We both ordered waters with lemon wedges. It was my preferred beverage of choice when going out to eat. Mr. Leoné let me order first and I'd like to think he was mirroring me. I didn't care how common the order was, I had to keep exercising my petty muscle around him. Because where is my apology for all the bullshit?!

When asked if we were ready to order, I panicked for a split second. I suggested Mr. Leoné order first, but he insisted quietly I find what I wanted. Not wanting to waste time, I pointed to the turkey meatballs with herbed yogurt and a side of rice. Mr. Leoné didn't need to look at the menu and ordered a pasta salad.

"A salad? Surprising," I said, grinning.

He returned a half-smile, before bringing us back to the conversation, "I was going to tell you why I wasn't entirely well."