In which Clarke gets stood up by her date and Lexa comes in to rescue her
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Clarke Griffin was not one to be stood up.
She was used to getting asked out on dates, whether it be a boy or a girl asking. Normally, she would say yes. What's the harm in dinner? Or a movie? Who knows, she might really hit it off with someone; that was the whole point of dating, anyway. The worst think that could happen is that they don't mesh, and they move on with their lives.
Well, that's what she used to think anyway.
Never once did it cross her mind that this kind of stuff happened outside of cheesy romcoms and soap operas. Surely, people had the decency to at least show up to a date (one which they asked for by the way, thank you very much!), right?
(Also, she was very vain. Look at her, who the hell would stand her up? Especially after being the one to ask her out in the first place?)
Wrong.
Turns out, the worst thing that can happen to a girl on a date is not having the date show up at all.
They had planned to meet at seven at a local restaurant, Nook's. It was a small, intimate place, earning its name quite well being tucked away in the nooks and crannies of her campus. No more than fifty or so at a time could be sat, but it was by far her favorite place to eat on campus. (Not that Chick-fil-A and McDonald's were hard to beat, though.) Nice Italian food, amazing desserts, a small bar in the front, and, most importantly for a broke college student like herself, on the more affordable end of the eating out spectrum.
She arrived on time, walking in to the open, seat-yourself environment and picked a table near the window. Punctuality was key for her; she didn't mind others being a minute early or a few minutes late, but pushing the limit irked her to no end. It was just impolite, honestly, to show up ten minutes late and leave her waiting when it wasn't even her plan to begin with. That's why, when she checked her phone to see it was 7:20, Clarke let out a rather audible sigh, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms.
Her waitress, a rather petite, pretty girl named Harper, came over then. "Miss, would you like to get started?" She asked, reaching for her order pad and a pen from her apron pockets.
Clarke shook her head. "No, I think she should be here soon. She is the one who asked me to come to dinner, after all,"
Harper gave Clarke a small, awkward smile. "Well, I sure hope she does. Quite rude to leave you waiting so long. I'll go ahead and bring out a cappuccino, on the house, while you're waiting."
"Thank you," Clarke muttered, looking back down at the menu on her table. She must've read over the specials at least ten times by now.
A couple a few tables over looked at Clarke, mumbling something to each other with pitiful gazes. Clarke caught the woman's eye, seeing the sympathy etched on her face, as if saying, "I've been there, sweetie." Quickly, the other woman looked away, pink creeping up the back of her neck.
Great. Just what she needed, strangers pitying her for her date being late.
Another twenty minutes passed, and the couple some tables over had left. A group of girlfriends had sat at a booth on the other side of the small dining area, laughing together and ordering drinks. Clarke rested her cheek on her hand, staring at them for a while before sighing and closing her eyes. Harper was at her side by the time 8:00 rolled around, pouring her another cappuccino.
"Do you have alcohol here?" Clarke asked her, tired eyes looking up at the freckled face.
Harper gave her a sympathetic look.
