The Uber pulled over at the curb before the Greene’s Grill and I climbed out onto the sidewalk. I rubbed my arms against the early autumn breeze as I made my way to the entrance. It wasn’t that cold; it was me feeling anxious.
Greene’s Grill was crowded with an eclectic mix of white-collar workers, college students, and artists from the music fest in town. Once I made it through the middle of the room, I spotted Owen having occupied a booth at the back of the Grill and looking my way. He waved at me and, after I gave him a slight nod, I moved toward the booth where he was now standing waiting for me.
Smiling, he took my hand and helped me sit down. “Quite a gentleman,” I thought and gave him a flattered smile which kind of froze when he placed his arm around my waist. “Wow, he’s not wasting time,” I thought and tried to maintain the awkward smile that had formed on my face.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked quietly.
“Oh, no, I’m hungry and my stomach gurgled.”
He mused and I let out a giggle. He waved to the pretty brunette waitress who instantly came to our both all smiles and giggles until she noticed my presence.
“Hi, Owen, long time, no see,” she said as her eyes washed over me. Then she returned to him and smiled. “Why on earth are you sitting here? Come to our booth, all the peeps are there. My shift is over in a few minutes and I’m joining them. You may bring your friend, too. It’s going to be fun,” she said as she placed her hands playfully on her hips.
Owen hesitated and looked at me. I could see that he wanted to join them; however, he cared about my opinion. I shrugged in agreement, though I was slightly disappointed. That wasn’t how I had imagined my first date with him would go. I started to question whether it was our first date indeed. I felt a sudden urge to use time manipulation, however, my skills had not been fully developed back then. I could not move time forward, although, at that moment, I wished I could. I suddenly felt an impelling desire to know how that date was going to end. Nevertheless, I followed them over across the room and stood while she introduced me to some boys and girls whose names I was sure I was not going to be able to remember.
She tugged on my sleeve. “And I am Noreen,” she said concluding the introductions.
I shook my head in desperation. It was like it was a basketball team had a night out with their cheerleaders. I rolled my eyes and I followed them to the booth. I took my seat beside Owen and I watched them laughing and talking out loud about a bunch of stuff I had no idea about; or I could not care less about.
He ordered steaks and soda for us. “We do not want you to get drunk,” he huffed.
I grinned and lifted my head. Next minute, he was laughing and chatting with Noreen. I gazed at him until he became aware and gave me a broad smile that made me a little dizzy. I lifted my drink and drained the rest of my glass. He was downright beautiful. I heard Noreen laughing hardily to a joke he said, and I tried to clear my throat.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I said, and I walked up buzzed across the room. I turned around and looked back at the booth. My stomach sunk; Owen and Noreen were undoubtedly flirting; the sexual tension between them was obvious. I quickly turned away and rushed into the ladies’ room. I looked at my flushed face and tried to fix my hair with trembling hands.
“I need to add a little gloss to my lips,” to told myself, but then I remembered that I had left my backpack at the booth.
My mind crowed. I was going to fight for him. Seek him out. Get what I deserved. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. I walked down the corridor with quick steps, only to realize that I had headed the wrong way. It was the men’s room. Great.
“Hey,” I looked up and a young man was blocking the way.
Trying to avoid any eye contact, I moved to walk past him.
“I am John,” he insisted and walked up behind me. “You are Gwen. We are sitting at the same both.”
I turned over my shoulder. “I am sorry, I am not good with faces.”
“You are a beautiful girl,” he said and took my arm.
“You’d better let me go,” I hissed.
“Hey, bitch, I gave you a compliment, you could at least thank me,” he slurred without leaving my arm from his vice grip.
“Let go of my arm!” I yanked my arm hard, but his grip did not yield.
“You think you are too good for me?” he yelled.
“Let her go, John!” That was Owen who was now standing behind me. Where on earth did he come from?
“Hey, Owen, that’s none of your business,” John hissed.
“Let her go before I hurt you,” Owen gritted.
I glared up at him. His black t-shirt was slightly askew showing off as his muscular arms as he grabbed John’s neck; a sudden action that made my perpetrator let me free.
As Owen kneed him in the groin, John let out a yell. After a whirlwind of kicks and punches, Owen got John to sink to his knees and ask for mercy.
“Get out of here. I don’t want to see you again anywhere around her,” Owen yelled as John ran out of the Grill.
He turned to me and gently eased my stretched white shirt back on my shoulder.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my hands still trembling hard.
He pulled me gently into his arms.
“It’s alright,” he said quietly. I took in his scent as he put his finger under my chin and gently lifted my face.
“I
