It's been an hour and a half.
Apparently, this restaurant is the best in Hoenn. Apparently, there is complimentary wine. Apparently, anyone who is anyone comes here. Apparently he'll be here in twenty minutes, but like I said, it's been an hour and a half.
I tap my foot. The waiter says I can sit at the bar until my date comes. We have a reservation, but he'll ensure that we get a table when he arrives. I've had two glasses of complimentary wine, learned a lot about the bar maid and beat my high score on Flappy Wingull fourteen times, but there is no sign of my date.
Brendan Birch. He is the son of Professor Birch, as the name may suggest. He is smart, funny and not too bad looking. We have been dating for a few months, and tonight we are supposed to be dining in Sootopolis's finest restaurant. Except, I'm here and he's not.
He's late quite often. On the first few dates he was always there before me, but after date number three I was always left waiting at least twenty minutes for him to put in an appearance. He always mumbles something about the traffic being awful or being caught up at work before he kisses me, hoping that will mask the fact that he's late for the millionth time.
So today, as I sit in the restaurant, I argue with the waiter.
"He's coming," I insist, but the waiter raises an eyebrow and hurriedly whisks himself away to another table. We were supposed to meet for dinner here at seven, but the clock is telling me it's coming up to nine o'clock. He's not coming, I know this, but I'd rather drink my sorrows away pretending he is than go home.
I'll have to call him, I think. I'll have to end things. It's not fair on either of us if our dates are constantly being rescheduled. I think about 'us', but really I'm thinking about 'me'. Aren't I allowed to be selfish once in a while?
I can feel other people staring at me. They know what's going on. She's been stood up, they're thinking. He's probably forgotten all about me. I'm half tempted to leave now, run round to his place and sock him in the face, but I'll be the bigger person in this situation. I can hear people whispering. It's very distracting when you half want to die on the spot and you can hear people talking about you.
Just as I'm thinking about leaving, the door swings open. Every time it's opened this evening I've turned, hoping for a miracle in the form of Brendan Birch. Not this time. Instead, I see a man, wearing possibly the fanciest suit I've ever seen. His hair is silvery and messy, and he's checking his watch. He looks tired from what I could see. Maybe he was here for dinner? I turn back to the bar, ordering another glass of wine.
I'd been making up imaginary stories for each and every person in the restaurant. The man by the window clearly owned three Delcatty. There is a young couple not too far from the bar and from the looks in their eyes this was their first time out without a young baby. There is an older couple, perhaps celebrating an anniversary? The man at the door… he is a businessman, and he's just finished a major deal. That's why he's here so late.
I could still hear the whispering, but I decided to ignore it, folding my legs over. The stool was getting extremely uncomfortable, but luckily I was saved.
"Hey, I'm sorry I'm so late, I got caught up in traffic. You know what it's like coming from Mossdeep!" It's the man that came in the door just there now. He is pretending to be my date, and I have no idea what to do. The waiter appears out of nowhere, menus in hand.
"Are you ready to order?" He asks me. I don't know how to respond. Am I?
"Yes," the man answers, and he motions for me to follow him and the waiter. I hop off the bar stool, bidding farewell to the woman behind the counter.
When following the man, I notice a lot of things about him. He's almost a foot taller than me, and I'm wearing heels. He walks with an air of confidence, as if he owns the restaurant (maybe he does?). We probably look like a very mismatched couple- him; tall and elegant, me; tiny and uncoordinated. I nearly trip over a few times on the way to the table, and I blame the three glasses of wine I've already consumed. I make a mental note not to drink anymore while at the table.
The waiter sits us down, hands us menus and says he'll be back in a minute. I pore over the menu, not sure what's going on.
"My name is Steven," the man whispers, "just go with it. Whoever didn't bother to show up isn't worth your time." I nod. It's sweet of him to intervene- he could easily have done nothing and watched on amused as I got more and more drunk.
"What are you going to order? It's my treat, so get whatever you like."
I learn a lot about this Steven over soup and noodles. He works for the Devon Corporation and is a self-titled geologist. He lives in Mossdeep. He is twenty-five years old. And by his behaviour so far, he is what one would describe as a gentleman. He's also very attractive in my opinion, and every time he reaches up to tousle his hair my heart skips a beat.
I tell him about myself. Only child, aspiring Pokémon Trainer. Nineteen. Feisty. I live in Littleroot. He laughs at my bad jokes. I decide I like him, even if just for saving me.
He pays the bill and we leave. I expect that to be the last time we see each other, but he stops me outside the restaurant.
"I genuinely enjoyed my time with you, May. Maybe… we can do this another time?" He's looking away, and if it wasn't so dark I would swear he was blushing.
"Are you asking me out?" I ask. I'm not sure if he is or if my overactive imagination is getting the better of me.
"Yes," he says simply, turning back to face me.
"Then…okay." I smile, even though he probably can't see me too well.
"I'll pick you up at seven next Thursday then, okay?" I nod, making a mental note. Seven next Thursday. Seven next Thursday. He takes one of my hands, planting a gentle kiss on my knuckles.
"See you next Thursday then, May." He calls out his Skarmory, and I watch as the two disappear into the night sky, becoming one with the stars.
AN: I got emotional while rereading and editing this wow im trash (also im crying don't mind me)