Page 5 of The Perfect Blend
“Don’t you think I should start with just a drink?”
“It’s just tapas, make the most of your time and eat while you date!”
I couldn’t fault her logic. There was always escape via the bathroom window if things got too ugly.
Hey!I typed back.Sounds great. It’s a bit short notice but my friend actually has a reservation at Bazár Tapas Bar in town that she can’t go to.I checked the reservation time with Zoe.It’s tomorrow at 8. Fancy it?
I sent it, and in no time at all, I had a response.
Absolutely. See you there at 8 tomorrow ;)
It was a date. Zoe and I clinked our glasses together in celebration.
“To a potentially awkward two hours tomorrow!” I cheered.
“To spicy tapas and an even spicier date!” Zoe cheered back.
We downed our wine and as it turned out, we would both be correct, in a way.
Chapter Three
Iwoke the next morning with a dry mouth and a pounding headache reminding me that I wasn’t a teenager anymore and couldn’t drink entire bottles of wine without repercussions. I hoped with a small amount of schadenfreude that Zoe was feeling the same.
Feel like death warmed up.I texted.How are you?
I reached for the water I’d helpfully left for myself next to the bed last night and drank half of it. I then spotted the berocca tablet on the side and plopped it in. It fizzed up and in a few seconds my water had magically turned into a bright orange, the saviour of women who had been wronged by wine. I gulped it down, regretting being too lazy to get more water for myself and grimacing at the too-strong taste. I’d feel the benefit soon enough though.
My phone buzzed.
Same. Some evil woman made me drink too much wine.
I laughed and typed back.You are your own villain in this tale. Next time let’s remember to drink water. We’re not eighteen anymore.
I can’t believe we used to drink like we were invincible. We didn’t knowthe power we had until it was gone.
That was true.Youth is wasted on the young.
We’re still young! We’re in our late twenties, not late eighties,she replied.That said, I don’t even want to get out of bed to walk Ruby. She’s pawing at me though, so I’ve got to pull myself together.
Good luck, brave warrior.
I sighed and flopped back down, my phone landing on the bed next to me. We’d drunk much more than usual, probably as dutch courage to get me a date. A date I had this evening. Did I even have anything nice to wear? I put off thinking about it and instead focused on getting out of bed and getting over this hangover. I had a dog to walk too. And a coffee shop to run.
The day passed just like any other Friday, only slightly grimmer because I felt a little ill for most of it. Beanie was a bright, fluffy and eager counterweight to the hungover cloud hovering above my head. The shop was quite busy, and I was glad for the help of my superb barista Jamie. Super skinny and tatted up to the max, with spiky hair in an ever changing roster of colours, Jamie served up warmth and charm to the customers alongside expertly brewed beverages. I’d hired them over a year ago after getting overwhelmed with running the place mainly by myself, and since then they’d paid for themselves 100 times over. Today, Jamie was basically running the show while I just provided support. They really loved their role, and the shop ran better than ever with them manning the cockpit. It was great to have someone to rely on, but a part of me sometimes felt a little redundant. Jamie didn’t really need me most days, and if I was being honest with myself, perhaps I needed something new and exciting to get stuck into. But that was a thought for another day. Today I had two jobs; to feel better and to have a good time on my date. Jamie saved me a danish to help with the first job and I mentally planned my outfit to prepare for the second.
I had to look good, but obviously not like I was trying too hard. I hadn’t worn a dress in a while, so that could be fun. Pair it with casual boots and a nice warm coat. I had a wrap dress made of a soft jersey material that would show off my curves nicely while also looking casual enough for this kind of date. I continued planning the details of the outfit: some warm gold jewellery Sharon had bought me for my birthday and then actually spending time on applying some light makeup and styling my hair. By the time the end of the day came around, I found myself actually looking forward to going out. Zoe was right. This would be good for me, even if it was a disaster.
∞∞∞
I was outside the tapas bar at five to eight, feeling myself. I glanced at my reflection in the window of the bar - yep, I looked good - and pulled open the door, making my way inside. It was a small, intimate space: wood flooring, low lighting, candles on the tables. Soft Spanish music floated through the restaurant, it was the perfect setting for a date. I hovered by a sign that told me to wait to be seated, and in no time a young waiter dressed all in black came to show me to my table.
“Table for two, at eight,” I said.
“Right this way, please.” He guided me through the space to a table by the window. I sat down and he bustled away, coming back a moment later with bread and oil to start. “For you while you wait. Would you like a drink?”
“Please. I’ll have a glass of sangria.” He nodded and stepped away. The door chimed as someone else entered, and I glanced over and wondered if it was my date, Hugh. Or was his name Harry? No, it was definitely Hugh. I wondered if I had time to surreptitiously check, but then I realised it wasn’t Hugh/Harry who the waiter had gone over to greet. The man that entered was tall, well postured, and well dressed in clothes that highlighted his physique. His dark curly hair was styled perfectly. I knew that when his face turned in my direction, his eyes would be blue.
Of all the places in town, it was just my luck that Mr-Tall, Dark and Maybe-Rude would be here with me. No, not with me. Just here.
