After debating with myself for longer than I should, I compromise with tinted balm and mascara.I want to look nice, without looking like I’ve tried too hard.That’s sort of my go-to for most occasions, but this feels different, even though I know better than anyone that this is fake.
The dinner was Zayden’s idea.He’s been the one to initiate every date so far.I make a mental note that I should be the one to plan our next one, the family dinner tomorrow night not included.
I’m driving there tonight, since Zayden has practice and will get ready and come straight from there to save time.The drive is short and I’m stoked that I snag a park quite close to the restaurant.
I grab my phone and check the time.I’m twenty minutes early.Of course I am.Deciding to wait it out in the car, I let myself scroll through social media, checking my accounts.
Fifteen minutes later, I head inside the restaurant.The moment I sit down, I regret coming in so early.Sitting here by myself feels awkward.Like everyone else at the surrounding tables is staring at me, when I know in reality that they aren’t.I also decide I don’t ever want to arrive separately again.
I stare at the empty chair across from me.
Each time the door of the restaurant opens, I look up hopefully, only for a stranger to enter.I chew my lip, eyes turning to the seat, which remains empty.Like it has for the last twenty-three minutes.I’m surprised so much time has passed, and I’m growing more agitated by the second.
The restaurant’s buzzing.I thought being a Thursday night it might be a little quieter, but it doesn’t seem to ever be quiet around here.Soft music is playing overhead, plates are clinking, couples are leaning in close under low-hanging lights.It has a warm, romantic atmosphere that is being completely wasted on me right now, considering Zayden hasn’t bothered to show up.
I take another sip of my lemon, lime and bitters and check my phone for the hundredth time.
Still nothing from Zayden.
No text.No missed call.No apology.
Suddenly, I think back to all the times I turned up somewhere and waited for James – my online boyfriend – only for him not to show and suddenly go quiet, leaving me miserable and alone, looking and feeling like a fool.I didn’t ever want to experience anything like that again, that’s why I blocked and removed him from everything and never added the obvious accounts that he’d made to try to get back in contact with me.
My cheeks burn from embarrassment.Zayden isn’t myboyfriend.He’s a strategic arrangement that benefits the both of us.So why does this feel like it hurts just like the real thing would?
I bite the inside of my cheek and glance at the door again.Nothing.Just a couple walking in hand-in-hand, laughing softly.Sinking into my chair, I notice the bar staff peering over at me.They’re probably taking bets about what has happened.
I reach for my bag and pull out my phone, fingers hovering over the messages.
Maybe I should text him.Or should I leave?Ugh, this is the worst.I hate that he’s put me in this position.
The longer I sit here, the more ridiculous I feel.
The waitress has come by three times now.I try to busy myself – check my phone, read the menu again, sip my drink – pretending my heart’s not sinking by the minute.Still no message.Still no Zayden.I’ve waited this long because IknowZayden, he’s not the kind of guy who would make plans and not show up.Right?
I hate that I’ve been here before.Not at this restaurant – but in this exact moment.That familiar tightening in my chest, the quiet humiliation of being stood up.I’ve already done one fake relationship.The kind that lives in messages and unkept promises, yet here I am again, waiting for someone who doesn’t show.
My eyes move to my wrist, a quiet ache blooming in my chest when I see bare skin where the bracelet used to be.It’s such a small thing but without it, I feel kind of hollow.Like I’ve lost another part of my best friend that I can’t get back.With everything going on lately, I feel like her loss hasn’t been consuming me as much, but it’s the moments like this that I miss her the most.
My thumb rubs the spot out of habit, the way I used to whenever I felt nervous.I wish she were here.She always knew what to say, always knew how to ground me when my thoughts started to spiral like this.She would’ve probably made somedumb joke, just to get me to roll my eyes and stop checking the time every ten seconds.
I take a breath, but it sticks in my throat.The restaurant noise feels muffled around me as my chest tightens.I give it five more minutes, staring at the tiny clock in the corner of my phone screen, barely blinking.Once those five minutes pass, I rise from the table, feeling so fucking humiliated that I want to crawl into a hole and die.
The waitress offers me a sympathetic smile.I almost burst into tears at the sight of it.
The cool night air hits me the second I step outside.Somewhere close by, a group of girls laugh loudly near the tram stop.Someone’s dog barks from a balcony overhead.A normal night for most people.
I walk down the street alone, past couples and families and too many happy people.
Whatever this thing with Zayden is … I’m not sure I can handle it.
Not again.
14
ZAYDEN
I’M HALFWAY THROUGH PEELINGoff my shirt when I realise how late it is.
