Page 6 of The Perfect Blend
The waiter spoke to him and I couldn’t avert my gaze. They started winding through the tables, heading for this part of the restaurant. Oh, no, he wasn’t going to be seated nearby, was he?
I saw the moment he spotted me. His face jerked in surprise. Mine did too, as the waiter stopped in front of my table.
“Here you are, sir,” he said, swiftly turning and walking away at the call of another patron. For a second we both froze. Him standing awkwardly in front of the table and me wondering bizarrely if Hugh/Harry existed, or if this was some hidden camera show and it had been this guy all along.
“I think there’s been some mistake,” he said, in that rich, smooth voice of his. “You don’t look like your pictures, Melissa.”
Ha! So he was on a first date too! What were the chances?
“Neither do you, Hugh,” I paused, considering. “Or Harry. Let me check, actually.” I tapped on my phone and opened the app, checking the name. “Hugh,” I said, showing him the profile and immediately regretting it. That was a weird thing to do, right? Show the guy you’ve been accidentally stalking the profile of your online date.
He looked at it, though, and raised his eyebrows.
“Is that your type, then?” He asked, seemingly unimpressed.
I felt a little offended on behalf of my not yet present date.
“What’s wrong with him?” I said, although looking at Mr-Tall-Dark-and-Maybe-Rude standing before me in the flesh made me realise my type was definitely not poor Hugh.
“Oh, nothing, nothing at all. Just not what I expected.” He said.
“Expected?” I said, before I could stop myself. “I didn’texpectyou to have expected anything,” I continued hastily before I could tie myself up with any more ‘expects’. “Who’s your lucky lady, then? Melanie?”
“Melissa,” he corrected, his eyes crinkled with humour. “Seems you’re just as bad at remembering names as you are at reversing.”
I was about to find some kind of retort for that when the door chimed and a beautiful redhead walked in.
“Ah,” he said. “There she is now. Excuse me. Enjoy your dinner.” He gave me one last indecipherable look before turning away. I was treated to a view of his broad back as he wove his way back to the entrance, greeting the stunning Melissa with a continental kiss on the cheek. Smooth bastard. Despite myself, I felt a twinge of envy. Melissa appeared very pleased that Mr Tall, Dark and Maybe-Rude looked just like his pictures. She held onto his arm with an air of familiarity, like they were longtime lovers. The waiter bustled over, and they all talked before he led them to the opposite side of the restaurant. He soon came back with my sangria and apologised for the mixup, which I told him not to worry about. I glanced over to where Melissa and her date were seated, leaning intimately over the table, laughing. I looked at the time.
Ten past eight.
My date wasn’t even here yet.
I sighed, nibbled some bread, drank my sangria, and ordered another.
At eighteen minutes past eight, Hugh arrived. He was lucky. Two more minutes and I would have walked. Even if it would have been humiliating, waiting was worse.
He waltzed in, saw me, smiled and wandered over.
“Raven!” he called, and sat down, pulling the menu towards him.
“Harry!” I called back. He looked up at me and frowned.
“It’s Hugh,” he said.
“I know.” I said, as if I hadn’t had to double check his name. “I’m Robin.”
“Ah,” he said, before throwing his head back to laugh loudly. It sounded obnoxious and immediately grated on my nerves. I found myself wondering what Mr Tall, Dark and Maybe-Rude’s laugh sounded like. I bet it would be nicer than Hugh’s. Actually, it would be perfect if it wasn’t. If it was like Hugh’s unfortunate laugh, it would render me completely unattracted to him.
“Ah, sorry,Robin,” he said, once he had finished guffawing. “I see you got started on the old Sangria before me. I’ll catch up.” To my absolute horror, he started to click his fingers in the air as he called “Waiter?” in a loud, unpleasant voice, then continued straight on without waiting for a response. “A jug of sangria for me and the lady.”
Oh, no.
I glanced over at the waiter and hoped my face conveyed my sincerest apologies as he nodded and headed for the bar.
Twenty minutes later and the date had continued to go downhill. Fast. We had ordered some food, which luckily arrived swiftly. The waiter had suggested ordering three dishes each, which Hugh had proceeded to do without any input from me - “I know just what you’ll love”, he’d said.
I had tried teasing him by asking if he was a psychic and he’d just been slightly confused. No, Hugh, it turned out, was a corporate lawyer. Seizing that topic of conversation, he’d started to regale me with stories from his work. Very boring, very obnoxious stories. Corporate law does not make for interesting, fun date conversation. Or, if it could be spun to make scintillating, flirty conversation, Hugh did not manage this feat.
