The dim lighting and dark-brown wood could have made the place claustrophobic, but it felt welcoming, with its old antique furniture and grungy decor. There was no one that matched the profile picture she had seen, so she found herself a booth. She preferred it this way. There was nothing like a dark corner for an intimate date. An upmarket, light and airy venue would have made her feel self-conscious and exposed.
A server dressed in black came to the table with her electronic pad. "Can I get you anything?"
She considered getting a Manhattan but decided against it. "Could I just get a bottle of your house white please?"
"Sure, we have a pinot and a chardonnay." She was very petite, and very peppy. Too peppy.
"Dealer's choice." Kristen had always wanted to say that, but it seemed cheesy. Tonight was different though. Tonight, she was a different person. Tonight, she was fun and mysterious.
"And how many glasses?"
"Two please." She wasn't sure if Kevin would be a wine drinker but asking for only one glass might look a little sad.
Why wasn't he here? Thankfully, she was hidden away in her booth so wouldn't receive any pitying glances from people thinking she had been stood up. Had she been stood up? She checked her phone, but there were no messages from him. There was a message in the group chat, and she went to open it.
"Kristen?" A voice startled her.
"Hi. Kevin?"
He shuffled into the seat opposite her whilst taking his jacket off. "Sorry I'm a little late."
"It's fine," she said whilst sizing him up. He didn't look quite how she'd expected and already, she could tell she wasn't particularly attracted to him, but decided to still be open to the idea. Many a time she had not been interested in someone initially, but once she'd got to know them, they seemed to become more alluring. If her memory was correct, there was a name for the phenomenon — the mere-exposure effect.
There had also been more than one occasion, where she had slept with a guy she wasn't attracted to anyway because it was somehow less awkward to do that, than it was to reject them. The server came back with her wine and placed it on the table along with the two glasses and two napkins. "You want to share my wine?"
"Sure." He looked as awkward as she felt. Hopefully, the wine would help them both loosen up. There was something so forced about the rigmarole of going through all the niceties when you both know exactly why you're there. He would only make eye contact with her briefly before looking somewhere else. He hadn't given the impression of being shy when she had spoken with him online, but then it was always much easier to open up when you didn't have to face the other person. "So. You wanna get any food? I hear this place does a killer cheeseburger."
"Oh no. I'm good thanks." She took a sip of her wine and scrunched up her face. It tasted cheap and vinegary. She set the glass down. "So, what do you do?"
"Oh, nothing special," he said whilst perusing the drinks menu. "Just work in an office. That kind of job no one dreams of when they're little but end up in anyway. What do you do?"
"IT, again, not a dream job, but I do love it. I get on better with technology than people." She laughed.
"Amen to that." He held up his glass in a faux cheer.
"So, if you could do absolutely anything, what would you do?"
"Anything. Wow. Okay. Um, I would probably be a rock star."
"Cool. What do you play?"
"Oh, I don't. I just wish I did." He chuckled. "I tried really hard to learn the guitar, but I'm just not sure my brain works that way. I'm awesome at Guitar Hero, though. Does that count?"
"Oh yeah. That totally counts." She was warming to him already. Now he was relaxed, his hands flat on the table, and able to look her in the eye. His eyes were brilliant blue where the light from the antique lamp highlighted them.
"My dad can actually play the banjo. Those things look impossible." For a second, she had forgotten about her father, and even though that is what she had wanted, just for an evening, the guilt stung. It was like she had to accept the loss all over again. Not is able to play the banjo. Was. Past tense.
"You okay?" He looked at her like a puppy dog, not sure if it had done something wrong.
"It's nothing. I'm fine." She wasn't about to go into all that. This wasn't supposed to get deep.
"I can tell something's bothering you. You can talk to me, you know. I mean, I know I'm a virtual stranger, but..."
"My dad died." She hadn't planned on it, but she couldn't help it from spilling out.
"Oh my god. I'm so sorry. That's terrible."
"He was murdered actually." She couldn't even look him in the eye now for fear of crying, but she could hear him swallow, like he had no idea what to say, wondering what he had gotten himself into. "I don't want to talk about it though. I just want to forget about it for a night."
"That's understandable. I won't mention it, but if you want to, you can. So, same question for you. What would you do if you could do anything?"
"Maybe a lawyer."
"That seems doable. More
