Margaritas Anyone?

Chapter 2

"Ok, I can do that" she shook her head in acknowledgement, taking a breath she recollected her thoughts and began her story.

"Goodnight ma'am are you ready to order?" looking up at the man she smiled and shook her head "Not at the moment. I'm still waiting for my date."

Acknowledging her answer he did a little bow and walked away.

Ten minutes had passed since the agreed time they had set to arrive. Usually after the five minute mark, she would have promptly left the restaurant and made her way home to eat her favourite Cookie and Cream ice cream, and delete the wretched dating app she was currently using, only to find herself sometime later in the same position hoping for a different result. Regrettably this was a common occurrence; thank god she wasn't a gambler.

Sighing she glanced at the entrance. Gears turned in her head wondering whether to leave or stay put, only to see a fairly tall man in a scarlet, penguin suit which matched the decor against the golden furniture that was purposely scattered. With the help from her date's profile picture, she recognized who the man was. Their eyes connected.

He produced a little smirk and waved to assure that he had her attention as he paraded toward the beautifully decorated table that was assigned to them, which now that she thought about it, was somewhat in the middle of the room. This could be a problem if this nauseating social norm went south. At least the nearest tables surrounding them or even the entire restaurant, depending on the fallout would get a good show out of it, if they were'into that sort a thing.

Potential catastrophes aside, he had passed the first test; not being a catfish. Taking a seat, he observed her, at the very least to where the table met with her waist, memorising and taking mental notes for small talk later.

"Hi Gwen, it's nice to finally see you in person" he initiated the conversation as he stretched out his hand. Gwen returned the handshake with a firm grip and replied with, "likewise, Owen".

"Isn't it cool that our names kind of match. Maybe it's fate " Owen pointed out .

"I wouldn't say it's fate, but it was another point that was added when deciding whether or not to do this. Our names are easily 'shippable' " Gwen swiftly, partially concurred, ending with a smile. He nervously chuckled and cleared his throat.

After scanning the menu they made a decision on what they wanted and flagged down their waiter for the night.

Half way into the dinner, Gwen had already downed two margaritas and was currently awaiting another one. The night was filled with little questions here and there about themselves. He was from Vermont, loved hiking on weekends, but moved here for his promotion. From his stories about work, he was what you would call a...company lackey for the lack of a better word, trying to climb the corporate ladder. But, you can't blame him, everyone has a dream in life. Maybe this is his or maybe, it isn't.

He could be like me; someone who was put their goals on hold to pay the bills, in the hopes that one day they would get there. It would just take a little while longer, but now they were stuck in that infinite loop of 'the someday'. But that someday hasn't come yet, even if the promise was made five years ago.

Now, you're twenty-five and that dream seems light years away. People always fall for 'the someday'. It's a pit that doesn't look as deep until you fall in to it. She was just like him in sense, except she wasn't kissing the higher ups asses; she was fine where she was.

They were conversing but it was distant; almost forced.

They were both five paces away from elapsing over the thirty mark, but it was clear they would be no two hundred dollar collection. Most people would have been married by now, with two kids at least.

Ahhh, the social pressure is bitch ain't it.

Every once in awhile, Owen would peek beyond her shoulder to the point where you would presume he was on a date with two people. Gwen didn't notice. She was too caught up in her musing in the midst of the mandatory chatting.

Desert came and went. There was nothing else to babble on about. They had already used up all of the conventional topics, sitting in silence, whilst the instrumental of utensils clanked against each other wasn't enough to relieve this agonising awkwardness. Which, according to Google, was hilariously enough a quality. They called it, time of death eight; forty-five.

Halting at the entrance, they pivoted, facing one another, just staring. There wasn't much to say, nothing could revive this. All you could do was mourn what could have been and say your final words. They knew what that was. It wasn't words but just one. Still, there wasn't a need for it to echo into the streets. With a minuscule smirk they abruptly departed.

On Owen's side of the spectrum, he knew what he was looking for beforehand. But at the end of the date, his suspicion was still unanswered and had maybe become a misunderstanding.

. . .

I hope you like this chapter

  ~ Alex