Hate The Date

A red neon sign blinked ‘Jays Pub and Grill,’ bathing the jammed parking lot and the interior of Olivia’s sedan in a pulsating crimson glow. She paused with her hand on the ignition key and her beautiful face contorted as she glanced around.

This is not how she imagined their first date would be. She had met Aaron at a business leadership conference and they had been chatting on different social media platforms for several months now. As she took in her surroundings, it was evident that he hadn’t been paying attention to anything she said to him. She thought she had finally met someone that understood her, that listened and respected her beliefs. But there was nothing she could do about it now. She was here so she might as well bite the bullet and see it through.

Not wanting to be accused by her best friend Heather of being too picky and being unreasonable, she took a deep breath, smoothed her black shift dress, and patted her neat French bun. Although she felt slightly overdressed, her red high heels clicked sharply on the cobbled path that led her way towards the restaurant. Overlooking a lake, the diner had a retro theme with diner booths and high-backed stools, black and white tiles, jukeboxes, and blinding disco lights.

 Olivia spotted him as he crossed the room, squeezing himself through the crowd until he was standing in front of her.

“You made it,” he grinned, cramming his hands into the pockets of his distressed jeans. He wore a snug black T-shirt that displayed roped forearms covered in tattoos. His golden skin that was always sheathed in designer suits glistened under the disco lights.

He had tattoos? Did he ever mention that?

His usually put-together look was not present tonight. The ink back hair that was usually slicked back, was tousled like he had just come out of bed. He looked like he was part of a startup rock band. Whenever they had conversations on Skype or FaceTime he looked like a stable, decent guy with goals and focus. This guy standing in front of her was definitely not her type. This was not going to work.

“I did make it. I’m not sure if I should stay,” she tucked her purse securely under her arm. When he gave her an amused look, her hostile gaze shifted to the plates laden with juicy lamb chops as the waiter weaved through the tables.

“I’m vegetarian,” she graced him with a saccharine smile. “Or did that important detail slip your mind? Along with the fact that I don’t like crowded places??” Olivia closed her eyes and grimaced when loud heavy metal music started blaring from the jukebox. Coupled with the nauseating odor of greasy fast food mingled with the smell of smoke, she was on the verge of losing what little patience she had. “Couldn’t you have chosen a nicer place for our first date?”

“I’m sorry, babe…” A sheepish smile tugged at his lips as he raked his fingers through his hair.

She grimaced at the use of his endearment. “Don’t call me that. I’m nothing to you. Not yet anyway.”

“I thought it would be nice to get to know each other in a relaxed environment,” he lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “We can go somewhere else if you’d like?”

“We can’t even hear each other speak. How do you hope to achieve that?” She took another deep breath and couldn’t believe she was lowering her standards yet again. “But, I think I can handle it for an hour or two.”

“Sweet,” he smiled, took her elbow in his hand, and led her to the corner booth. “You look lovely by the way,” he said and waited for her to slide in first. “Am I allowed to say that?”

“You are,” she nodded and picked up the menu that was greased with oil, pinching it between her thumb. “Do you mind wiping this?” she directed at the chirpy blonde waitress that had come to take their order.

“I’ll have the usual, Chelsea,” Aaron said. “Extra bacon. Extra patty. Extra Cheese.”

“Got it, sugar,” she winked, chomping her gum noisily. “And what can I get for your flavor of the weekend?”

“Excuse me?!” Olivia’s amber eyes flared and narrowed.

“She’s vegetarian,” Aaron quickly stepped in, thwarting a potential catfight.

“Well, she’s come to the wrong place,” she blew out a bubble and a loud echo resounded when it popped. “I’ll see if the chef can toss up a green salad for your stuck-up company. But if you ask me she could do with a good steak. Good luck with this one, honey,” she pinched his cheek and flounced off.

Olivia rested her chin on her palm, elbow on the table, and stared at her date. Could the night get any worse?

“I’m sorry about that,” he squirmed, his face growing warm under her scrutiny. “How was your day?”

“Fine, until I got here,” she replied succinctly.

“Come on, babe. I’m trying here…”

“Stop calling me that…” she growled through gritted teeth.

“Hold that thought,” Aaron raised his forefinger and stood up as his phone vibrated angrily. “I’m sorry, I have to take this. I’ll be right back.”

And that was pretty much their evening summed up. He went outside to take calls throughout dinner or responding to texts that were supposedly urgent. The guy’s phone was like a switchboard at a call center.

To add insult to injury, her salad came sprinkled with bacon bits. It could have been intentional but she had no proof. “I’m so sorry about that,” the cheeky waitress apologized, displaying no remorse whatsoever. “I’ll just take this back and remove-”

“Forget it. Just get me water,” Olivia’s jaw ticked. “Do you think you can manage that? Hmm?” She was sorely tempted to wrap her finger around Chelsea’s scrawny neck and pull out her hair, blonde strand by blonde strand.

“Sparkling? Still or-”

“I just want water!” She finally snapped, her patience at breaking point. “Do you need me to spell it out??!” Eyes of fiery ice turned on the equally hostile waitress.

“No need to shout!” Chelsea bit out, her tone sharp. “I heard you the first time.”

“I’ve had about enough of you!” Olivia shot up and slammed her palms against the table. “I want to see you manager! Now!” she roared, her voice rising above the noise.

“Well, you can do that to the owner-who also happens to be your date- before or after you bang his brains out,” her gaze fell on Aaron as he made his way back to the booth. “I don’t even know what he sees in the likes of you!” she drawled in her Southern accent, hand on hip. “He can do so much better.”

Fury flooded her at the taunt. “How dare you!”

“Enough, Chelsea!!” Aaron stepped between the high-strung females in the nick of time. Olivia’s clenched fists were about to do some serious damage to her rude opponent. “Get out of my face before you get fired!”

“I don’t need this job!” she yelled, ripping off her black apron and throwing it at him. “I don’t need you!”

“Then you know what to do!” he called to her retreating back.

Nothing seemed to be going right. Maybe it was time to call it a night.

“I have to agree with her on the last part!” Olivia muttered without restraining her anger. “This was just a waste of my time!”

“There’s no pleasing you, is there?!” Aaron snapped, marching over to her. “From the moment you got here you’ve just been prissy... and whining like a-little-little b-baby! You’re not the only one that has had enough.” He grabbed the red biker jacket that he had left on the seat. “If you didn’t want to be here then you should have said so.”

“I don’t want to be here!” she gritted her teeth.

 “The exit is right over there,” he motioned. “Use it,” he informed her, throwing a couple of bills on the table to cover the disastrous dinner.

 “Oh, I intend to do just that!” She yelled at him, digging her nails into her palms. “I’m never going out with you again!”