Felix's pov
Why has no one ever considered establishing a school to teach kids basic manners?
It's important and useful. People normally guess that they are supposed to learn these from family. But what if the kids are orphans and they grow up in a really shitty environment where basic needs like food and clothes are hard to get? How would they get to learn basic manners then when their basic necessities are in threat?
Well, I think the question has its answer. When basic necessities are under threat, they will find no need to go to school to learn manners. But then again if it becomes normal like going to normal school then they won't skip it. Or maybe the school can just include a whole new subject called "Basic Manners for Kids" or something like that.
But no, they won't do it. And then we expect them to have manners. Yeah, how is that gonna work?
Just like I'm expecting manners from this girl before with whom I have somehow ended up on a date.
She is not really an orphan as far as I know. She has a family where she grew up, a pretty decent family if I remember correctly. And still, she's lacking some really basic manners, let alone the manners you need to follow on a date.
Basic manners like where you don't gossip with strangers about your best friend's cheating ex-boyfriend.
".....then Sara walked on them, both naked and fucking like animals."
I choke on my soda, sending it down my throat the wrong way. My eyes widen as I stare at her in disbelief. She mistakes my horrified reaction for rapt interest and leans in eagerly, practically glowing with excitement to share some more gossips. The motion causes her top to slip down lower, breasts now almost fully on display. I cough again, harder this time—partly from the soda, partly from the secondhand embarrassment.
Another lack of manners....... Forget it, I might get in trouble if I say that. Also, maybe it doesn’t count as a lack of manner exactly just because it's making me uncomfortable.
That's that. There are also manners of a date and it would be highly inappropriate for me to expect those from her when she lacks the basic ones.
"You alright?" Before I can answer, I feel her hand on my thigh sliding upwards. It is light at first. Then her fingers tighten, squeezing slowly like she’s testing to get a reaction out of me. A jolt shoots up my spine. My heart starts hammering in my chest, not the good kind of flutter—more like a fire alarm.
This is not good. What I'm about to do is worse and more embarrassing but I have no other options.
"...Yeah," I mumble, daring to look her in the eye. They hold a dangerous glint. I'm aware of the meaning. I'm also aware of the fact that I'm just not ready for that yet. I stand abruptly, pushing my chair back with a scraping sound. "I need to use the washroom. Just—be right back."
I weave through the restaurant like I’m escaping a fire. It's Friday night. The restaurant is packed. The music is already louder than normal, to give people in one booth privacy from the other. Yet you can hear noises over the music, people talking loudly and plates and spoons clattering. It's pretty chaotic.
Surprisingly, the washroom is not as packed as the restaurant. It's technically empty when I get in here.
I walk to the sink and stand in front of it. There is a big mirror behind the sink. A man in his late-twenties in a blue button-up shirt and black pants is staring back at me through the mirror. His highlighted golden-brown hair is brushed back neatly. The light shade of his pupils is appearing darker under the dim lights of the washroom. But that doesn't hide the uneasiness in him. Even in this soft light, it's pretty clear how awkward he is tonight. His red face is pretty noticeable.
I sigh, running a hand over my face. The awkwardness isn’t just obvious—it’s practically my signature. I’ve known that for a while now. I don’t know what it is—something short-circuits in me whenever I’m around the opposite gender. I don't do well around them. That's one of the reasons why I'm still single. Every date I have gone to has ended in a disaster. Today is just another mess to add to the collection. I’ve embarrassed myself all over again. If this is how things keep going… will I ever find someone who gets me? Someone who sees past the fumbles and hesitation?
Honestly, I don't know. It's getting frustrating at this point. I'm looking for serious relationship. I have to pass through the first date at least to make that happen. How do I even do that?
I open the wrist buttons of the sleeves. The fabric loosens around my wrists, and I begin folding the sleeves upward—slow, neat turns, one after another. When they reach beneath my elbow, I stop. Then I glance at the mirror.
Does it change my look somehow? I think I'm looking less stressed now.
I placing my hands on the counter and lean forward. My eyes narrow slightly. Do I look intimidating?
Not quite.
My gaze shifts to my hair—still brushed back, too polished to fit. The whole look needs a touch of chaos.
Should I?
...Yeah, screw it.
I run both hands through it again and again, fingertips dragging from scalp to ends, breaking through the clean lines. When it’s completely messed up, sticking out in uneven waves, I stop. The imperfection feels more real now.
Once again, I lean against the counter. How about now?
Definitely better. Hotter, even.
But still, something’s missing.
I look down at my chest. Maybe if I open one upper button or two-
The door of the washroom swings open and an elderly man walks in. He pauses when he sees me over the counter, one hand on the countertop and another on my shirt buttons. He studies me for one good minute and then looks away sighing. He mutters something inaudible under his breath, which sounds so much like "this generation", before walking into one of the stalls and shutting the door.
As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, I collapse inward. I cringe so hard. What the fuck was I doing, man? Seducing myself?
Yep. Full-on smoldering eyes, slow sleeve roll, hands in hair—Jesus Christ. Like I was auditioning for a perfume ad that no one asked for. And then a random stranger walks in right at the peak of my solo performance. Peak. Performance.
Who the hell does that alone in a public restroom?
Me, apparently. I do. The epitome of embarrassment.
I groan, dragging my hands down my face as if I could smear away the memory. That is next-level mortification.
Well, I know I wasn't seducing myself. I just wanted to look better. But he surely thought I was doing that. I feel like banging my head on the counter. Gosh, that's so embarrassing.
My phone starts ringing at the right time pulling me out of the embarrassed state. I pull the phone out of my pocket to check who is my savior.
Ryker. My best friend and younger brother.
I slide to the green side of the bar and bring the phone to my ear.
"Yo? How's the date going? How is she? Are you enjoying it? Are you gonna ba-"
His voice gets cut off as I zone out. Oh, fuck! The whole date thing left my mind for a few seconds!
"Yeah, well, it's going good. Will call you later."
I cut the call off and shove the phone back into my pocket.
Another sigh leaves my mouth. I need to get back. The thought of going back to that shitty date makes me want to stay here for the rest of my life. But of course, I can't do that. My eyes go back to my phone. Should I just call back Ryker and tell him that the date is going horribly wrong and ask him to pick me up?
No, I can't definitely do that either. I can already see his reaction. He is gonna humiliate me for the rest of my life for this.
I have to figure a way out of this date myself.
My eyes go back to the mirror again. I'm definitely looking better than before. Heck, I'm actually looking how I wanted to look. Mature and intimidating. Cool and calm.
But if I go back to her looking like this, we'll probably end up in bed tonight. And that's the last thing I want.
She's not really my type but I can't tell that to her face. There is a backdoor of the restaurant which can lead me out of here without having to go back to her but that would be a highly mannerless and rude behavior. My mom taught me better than this.
I sigh again. How do I get out of here without being rude or making myself an idiot?
I look back in the mirror. I can at least take a picture like this and can post it on Instagram if it turns out good. It feels like I haven't posted there in ages.
Taking out my phone, I take three or four pictures. Meanwhile, the guy emerges out of the stall and finds me taking pictures. Shaking his head, he walks out of the washroom. I roll my eyes.
Yeah, our generation sucks. You don't need to act like yours were the best.
Within the next few minutes, I try to return to my old self, the one which walked into the washroom before he started to make himself look sexy. Rolling down my sleeves and closing all the buttons, I push back my hair using my hands. It doesn’t fall neatly into place, but it’s closer to that one. Well, that's the best I can do without a comb and some gel.
Satisfied (not really), I take a deep breath before leaving the washroom. I haven't yet figured out how to get out of this date but I hope I will soon.
"Sorry, it took me a while," I mutter with a forced smile sliding back into the booth. Leila, my date, keeps her phone down and looks up at me with narrowed eyes.
"You sure did take a while," she says shrugging. The next second, she leans towards me. The smell of her expensive perfume hits my nostrils. Staring at me through her lashes, she whispers, "You could take me there with you if you were taking that long in there."
I resist the urge to sigh. I don't even know what to say to that. I glance around the restaurant once. Not that it will give me a response for Leila's obvious flirting. I don't know why but since I have left the washroom, I have this weird feeling that someone is watching me. I've never felt it before. And the feeling is so strong that it's making me quite uneasy.
"Hey, don't ignore me!" I cringe at her whiny voice. God, this woman! How long do I need to endure her? I need to come up with some polite way to get out of here before I end up doing something harsh.
"I'm not ignoring you," I reply, turning back to her. She is closer to me than before. Now that I notice, she has a nice pair of eyes and the makeup on her eyes really suits her.
I sigh. She's not actually that much bad looking. In fact, she's looking really pretty. If only she had a more decent behavior, the date would have worked out really nice.
Well, she is not the only one to blame. I'm not behaving as I should either.
"Then what were you doing?" she demands, crossing her arms over her chest which causes the dress to ride down and reveal her breasts a little bit more again. My eyes move down there involuntarily, of course.
"I was just thinking." I tear my eyes from her breasts and look around the restaurant again. Am I seriously imagining this? How can someone feel a person looking at them?
I am about to look back at Leila when I finally find the person. I guess that's the one whose eyes are disturbing me like this.
A woman that's sitting in a booth a few feet away from ours. She's with a group of people whom I cannot see because........ well, because her presence is so radiant that it technically outshines others. A black silk scarf is wrapped around her head. She's wearing a white oversized shirt and black pants. She's looking modest and kind of intimidating. The group with whom she's sitting is being loud but she's not paying any attention to them. She's just silently sitting there and observing us like a predator.
Who is she? Do I know her?
"You were thinking what?"
"That girl."
"What?"
The sharp snap of Leila’s voice yanks me back to reality. I blink finding her with her arms crossed, lips drawn into a tight frown, and eyes narrowed. That look alone tells me exactly what I have said.
“You're on a date with one girl and you're thinking about another girl?” she demands, her voice sharp but steady.
God. Right. I shouldn't have said that out loud like an idiot.
I shake my head, disappointed in myself. That is rude. No matter what’s going on in my head, I shouldn’t be ignoring the person sitting right in front of me—especially not on a date.
Clearing my throat, I reply, "You didn't hear the rest of my words."
She raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "And that is?"
I give her the most charming smile that mostly works in situation like this. Leaning forward slightly, I watch her frown fading a little. I drop my voice lower, which I hope is sensational. "I was thinking about that girl who stole my breath away on our very first meeting."
I'm gonna regret it. I'm gonna regret it. I'm so gonna regret it.
I am supposed to get out of this date, not flirt my way into it!
Her expression changes accordingly. "And?" she murmurs, voice huskier now. She leans in as well, closing the gap between us more. Her breath grazes my cheek. It hits my neck too, and I freeze.
Don't say it. Don't say it. Don't say it.
"And that it was so nice meeting her." I lean slightly away, just a bit that she probably won’t notice. Hopefully.
Her long and obviously fake lashes flutter as she blinks up at me with exaggerated innocence. "Aw, so that girl is me, right?"
I try not to cringe. Those lashes look like they might take off in a light breeze. I smile again, but this time it’s tighter. It's the kind of smile you wear when you're too deep in a hole to stop digging.
"Yup, that's you," I confirm, looking away from her, my eyes involuntarily searching for that dazzling lady. I find her again but she's not looking at us this time. Rather she's looking down, talking to someone on her phone.
"Okay, that was so sweet." Before I can process it, I feel a soft sensation on my cheek. I look back at Leila with wide eyes. She grins.
Has she just kissed me on the cheek?
Yes, she has. The smile on her face confirms that. I wince visibly, this time resisting the urge to wipe my cheek. Did she leave a lipstick mark? The thought alone makes me wince again.
"Now, you can pay the bill so we can get out of here and go somewhere private," she says in a velvety tone, moving away from me. Her eyes stay locked on mine, gleaming with a kind of invitation I’m not ready for. "Where should we head next? Your place or mine?"
And then, God help me, she wiggles her eyebrows. I blink.
Is she serious right now?
This is our first date. We barely even know each other. We haven’t done anything remotely close to deserving a “your place or mine” situation. I haven’t even touched her hand, let alone build up to a night of... whatever the hell she’s implying.
Not that I’m judging. Okay, maybe a little. But mostly I’m just confused and uncomfortable.
And the way she just casually told me to pay the bill? Yeah, I was planning to pay, of course, but it’s just like she is commanding me to do it, like she’s already decided how this night ends and just needs me to keep up.
Who does she think she is?
As if it isn't enough, I feel her hand on my chest. Soft fingers start trailing upward. I stiffen, caught off guard once again, as her hand creeps toward my collarbone. Her breath ghosts along my skin as she softly whispers in my ear, "Let's go to my place. I'll show you something. Something you have never seen before. Something you'll never forget in your lifetime."
Her whisper sends a shiver straight down my spine, not from desire, but discomfort. And I have had enough. I grab her hand and move it away from my body. Then I slide a few inches back in my seat, just enough to draw a line without making a scene. Clearing my throat, I say, calmly but firmly, "Actually I can't."
Rude! Rude! Rude!
She narrows her eyes instantly and opens her mouth to say something. But before the words get out of her mouth, someone else interrupts her. "Hey, Leila."
Both of us turn our heads to look at the person and I almost choke on air. That's the very same woman that has been observing us from the other booth. And it's not only just that.
Seeing her up close, now I realize that I actually know her. She's none other than my brother's ex-girlfriend.
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