Just Roomates

Chapter 3: The Date

It's been about two weeks since the last time Alex and I talked about the whole "let's have sex thing," and tonight it's the farthest thing from my mind because I have a date with Prince Charming, or Mark as I found out when he texted me. 

Now, I know dating was on my pros list in terms of not having to do it, but maybe this is the distraction I need. Hot guy, hot date, hot sex right? Checks out in my books.

I twist my long, dirty blonde hair and clip it to the back of my head so it spills over in a curly pony-type deal. I finish off my makeup with a swipe of lip-gloss and grab my purse. I chose a fitted, knee-length black dress and black strappy heels. He said he was taking me somewhere nice, so I hope this is what he meant.

"Don't wait up!" I shout to Alex who's sitting on the couch watching some documentary about God knows what.

"Mhm." He grunts and raises his beer can toward me. "Have fun."

He's in a mood, but I shake it off and head out the door and down the stairs. Mark meets me in the lobby and holds the door for me as we make our way to his car.

"You look nice." He smiles as he opens the passenger door for me to slide in.

"Thanks!" I chirp. "So do you!"

He's wearing black slacks, shiny black shoes, and a grey button down. 

When we arrive at the restaurant, he opens my doors again, and leads us to a table by a window that overlooks the city.

"Wow, this place is incredible." I breathe.

"Yelp never lies." He smiles and takes my hand from across the table.

We make small talk as we wait for service. Great weather lately, what do you do for work, where'd you go to school, etc. He's funny, he makes me laugh and he seems to think I'm funny too. 

"Good evening, folks," our waiter starts. "May I offer you something to drink?"

"I'd like a glass of your red blend please." I smile and place the wine list back on the table.

"Sure thin-" 

"I'm sorry, she'd actually just like a water." Mark cuts him off. 

"Oh." The waiter says, shocked.

"Wait, no-" I start.

"I don't want you getting sloppy. I'd like an old fashioned, top shelf, with twist thank you." He tells the waiter. 

I'm too dumbfounded to speak and all the poor waiter can do is scurry off.

"I'm sorry, did you just say you don't want me to get sloppy?" I ask, emphasis on the sloppy.

"I've noticed that women who drink red wine tend to get sloppy. Wouldn't want that happening on our first date." He shrugs it off.

I literally cannot speak. The waiter returns and drops off our drinks, telling me "sorry" with his eyes. I give him a light smile and raise my water glass slightly as in to say cheers.

"Are you two ready to order?" He asks pulling out his pen and pad of paper.

"Yes." Mark starts just as I open my mouth. "I'll have the rib-eye, rare, all the sides are fine, and she'll take the house salad."

"I actually wanted the Clam Chowder." I state, closing my menu.

"Oh, absolutely not. You'll get bloated and then you'll be popping out of your dress. That's not a good look." Mark says as he takes the menu from my hand and hands it to the waiter. 

"Okay." I say turning my attention to the waiter. "I guess I'll be having the house salad."

"Are you sure ma'am?" He asks. "I can bring you the chowder if you'd like."