Will They, Won’t They
A jaded woman takes herself on a solo date that reawakens her interest in romance.
Tropes – Missed Opportunity, Meet Cute, Strangers to Lovers
“Would you like another glass of wine, miss?…Miss?”
Sherry jerked to attention. The waiter was holding a bottle of the house red. He had on the same overly nice, moderately concerned look he’s had on since she walked into the restaurant and asked for a table for one.
“No significant other joining you tonight?,” he’d asked.
“Nope,” she’d said.
Sherry knew it looked like she should be going on a date. She was wearing her favorite strapless, satin, burgundy, tea-length dress with a fitted bodice and fancy black opera gloves. Not to mention, the sky high strappy black heels and elaborate make up she got done at Sephora. She should be going to a Gala or an important anniversary dinner,but she wasn’t. Not unless you counted a year since she broke up with her ex as an anniversary. She wouldn’t give Ted the satisfaction.
Sherry was sick of the dating apps. She was sick of the texting, of the will they/won’t they, of the ghosting, all of it. She was giving up on men. Done. So why was she captivated by the gentleman sitting by himself directly across from her at the next table?
“Miss?” The waiter looked really worried now. He probably thought she was having a mental breakdown.
“No more, thank you. Can I see the dessert menu?”
“Of course.” He ran away and Sherry went back to not so subtly spying on the man across from her. He’s been reading the same book all night. His eyes fixed on Catcher in the Rye in between bites of braised lamb and garlic mashed potatoes. She was tempted to take a picture and send it to the hot guys reading Instagram account. He looked delicious in his black turtleneck and beige cargo pants. His brown curly hair falling into his eyes everytime he looked down at his book. He was in his own world. He hadn’t noticed her at all.
The waiter came back with the dessert menu. Sherry resolved to quit staring and eat her chocolate mousse in peace. When she asked the waiter for the check, he waved her off, “No need, miss. The gentleman over there already took care of it.”
Her eyes snapped to Mr. Hottie. He was standing by the front door. The book was closed at his side. He nodded at her with a little smirk. Then with one last wink, he sauntered out of the restaurant onto the busy sidewalk and disappeared into the crowd.