FirstDate II
628 Words
I glanced down at mine, scanning the options and immediately wished I hadn’t. The prices alone were enough to make my grip tighten slightly. This was a mistake, not the meeting itself, at least, not entirely but this setting. I didn’t belong here, and the longer I sat at that table, the more obvious it felt.
“Order whatever you like.” I looked up quickly. He was watching me, his expression unreadable.
“I can pay for my own meal,” I said, my tone sharper than I intended.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t.”
“Then why?”
“Because I invited you.”
The simplicity of the statement caught me off guard. There was no arrogance in it, no expectation, just a quiet certainty that made arguing feel unnecessary. I held his gaze for a moment, weighing my response.
“I don’t like feeling like I owe people,” I said finally.
He studied me for a second, and then, just as simply responded.
“You don’t.” The certainty in his voice made it difficult to argue.
I looked back down at the menu, more to gather myself than anything else. “Then I’ll order something small.”
“You’ll order what you want,” he replied.
I glanced up again, narrowing my eyes slightly. “You’re very particular.”
“I prefer clarity.”
“That sounds like a polite way of saying you like things done your way.”
“And if it is?”
There was no defensiveness in his tone. I exhaled softly, setting the menu down. “Then I’d say you’re used to being in control.” A brief pause followed. He didn’t deny it. Instead, a faint, almost thoughtful smile touched his lips.
“That’s not an unfair observation,” he said. That, more than anything else, caught me off guard but before I could respond, the server returned, and we placed our orders. I chose the safest option I could find, ignoring the way he didn’t even glance at the menu before ordering, of course he didn’t. Lying bastard, occasionally my ass.
“So,” he said, “tell me something about you that isn’t in your profile.”
I let out a quiet breath, shaking my head. “That’s not fair. You don’t have anything in your profile.”
“Exactly.”
I narrowed my eyes. “So you get information, and I get nothing?”
“For now.”
I studied him for a moment, then leaned back in my chair. “Fine,” I said. “But if I’m answering questions, you are too.”
His gaze held mine, steady, assessing. “Within reason.”
I almost laughed. “You’re exhausting.”
“And yet,” he said, “you’re still here.” That was annoyingly true.
I exhaled, giving in just slightly. “I’m a nursing student.” Something in his expression sharpened.
“Final year,” I added. “Which means I’m constantly tired, constantly stressed, and constantly questioning my life choices.”
“Why?” The question came immediately.
“Why what?”
“Why nursing?”
I hesitated. Most people didn’t ask that like they actually wanted an answer but he did.
“I like being useful,” I said after a moment. “I like knowing that what I’m doing actually matters to someone. “The words felt more honest than I intended.
For a second, he didn’t respond. He just looked at me and there it was again, that feeling of being seen a little too clearly.
“That makes sense,” he said quietly.
I looked away first. “Your turn,” I said, reaching for my glass. “Why were you on the app?”
- Writer
