However, he stared blankly down at me and replied, “Thanks. Why don’t you get ready? I’m sure one of the dresses you bought yesterday will suffice.”
He didn’t ask me about the meeting, which was unusual in itself, but he also hadn’t reacted to me touching him, and Theo was surprisingly tactile and affectionate.
“Is everything all right?”
“Fine. I thought we’d eat first and then start at a bar before I take you to a club.”
Feeling a decided chill and distance from him, my stomach knotted. “Are you sure everything’s all right?”
“Fine. I just don’t want to miss our reservations.”
Letting his strange behavior go, I disappeared into the bedroom to change, hoping his mood would lift once I was ready.
I’d bought two cocktail dresses on our shopping spree. One was black and the other a green that closely matched my eyes. Deciding I wanted to blend a wee bit for my first London club experience, I chose the black. It was a simple silk chiffon dress with thin straps and a deep V neckline. It clung to my curves without being too tight and ended just above the knee. Theo had sworn it straddled that fine line between sexy and classy.
I paired the dress with the Jimmy Choo sandals I’d treated myself to. They were just as simple as the dress with a thin black suede strap over the toe and around the ankle. At first, I’d thought it ridiculous to spend that kind of money on such a basic design, but then I’d walked in them and couldn’t believe how comfortable they were.
Quickly creating a beachy wave with my hair straighteners, I left my hair down and applied eye makeup and lip gloss. Looking at myself in the mirror, I smiled, feeling sexy and grown-up outside of the bedroom for the first time in a long time.
That pleasure was dimmed, however, by Theo’s response when he saw me. “You look beautiful,” he opined in a robotic tone that killed the compliment.
Confused, I dazedly let him help me into my coat and guide me out of the flat. He didn’t take my hand or touch my lower back like usual.
He didn’t touch me at all.
Tension thickened between us once we grabbed a cab. By the time we reached the restaurant, I wanted to yell or shake him or get him to do anything but sit with that bored expression.
I wouldn’t ask him if I’d done anything wrong because I couldn’t imagine that I had. Truthfully, I’d spent every day until the age of thirteen walking on eggshells with my mum and her boyfriends, asking her constantly if I’d done something wrong.
I would never go back there.
Instead, I fell into a sullen mood.
He brought me to a fancy restaurant in an area called Bishopsgate. The restaurant was in a tower with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. We could see the Gherkin from it.
The food was delicious, but I wasn’t that hungry. However, my mood seemed to draw Theo from the metaphorical arse he’d shoved his head up and he attempted conversation over dinner, asking about my meeting. Slowly, the tension relaxed between us, but I could still tell something was bothering him.
A few hours later, we walked about a minute from the restaurant to a hotel next door. Confused, I asked Theo where he was taking me, and he said there was a bar in the hotel that did great cocktails. That he’d been a few times with cast and crew, and it wasn’t an overly trendy or A-list celeb spot. He thought we should stop there first before we hit the club.
The bar looked like itshouldbe for VIPs. It was spacious with polished concrete flooring and a large bar in the center with plenty of bar stool seating. Along the room’s edges werecurved, plush booths around oval wooden tables. In symmetrical lines across the middle of the room was a mixture of seating. Some low benches and modern comfy chairs between gold oval tables, while others were trendy bistro tables with funky, weirdly shaped chairs. The lighting was low and atmospheric and the music playing was popular chart hits.
Theo explained there was a smaller whisky bar at the back as we strolled through the space toward the bar. I didn’t know if it was because it was still fairly early, but it wasn’t crowded, though most of the seats were taken.
I ordered a mojito while Theo ordered a whisky sour. Leaning against the bar top while we sipped at our cocktails, I people-watched while I tried not to fixate on Theo. Though he was trying a little harder, it was the fact that he needed to try that bothered me. Interactions between us were usually effortless. I wanted to ask him again if he was all right, but my stubborn pride forced me not to chase him for an answer.
Theo seemed happy to let me observe the room rather than engage in conversation with him.
On my second mojito, a couple started dancing to a Lana Del Rey song. I felt a pang of something in my chest. Maybe something a bit like longing as I watched them sway together, smiling into each other’s eyes, uncaring that no one else was dancing.
I wondered if the song had some meaning for them.
But when the song changed to Fleurie’s “Love U Already,” they didn’t sit down, and another couple filled the empty space beside them to slow dance.
“Well, I’ve never seen that happen in here before,” Theo drawled, throwing back the last of his drink.
At his dry tone, I asked, “Do you like to dance?”
“Not particularly.”
