Hey there! I found this sort of plot bunny on Tumblr and I instantly thought of OQ. Hope you like my story, even if not betaread :)
I uploaded the story from my phone, so I hope the layout is fine and there aren't any words missing. Enjoy!
imagine that you've been stood up by your douche of a boyfriend on date night and the waitress keeps asking if you're ready to order but you keep asking for more time hoping that he's just late. people are starting to look at you with those apologetic looks like they know and you start to feel worse and worse about the whole situation but as you decide to just get up and leave, this boy you've never seen sits down explaining loudly "sorry i'm so late, babe, traffic is crazy right now." and he quietly adds, "i'm Michael. just go with it, yeah? whoever didn't bother to show up is a dick." and so you do go with it because he's being sweet and trying to save you (and plus he's the cutest thing you've ever seen) and as you're leaving the restaurant after the best non-planned date ever, he asks you out for real this time.
She glances at her watch once more, observing as it ticks the time away slowly... too slowly.
She lowers her head, fiddling with the napkin on her lap, interlacing her fingers with the pristine cloth, her knuckles turning white.
David is late, again.
She exhales loudly, trying to calm her inner turmoil. It's the same, old David. Nothing to worry about. He'll be probably stuck in traffic, or getting soaked under the rain while walking to the restaurant, or still at the office... or with another.
No, she shakes her head. She promised: no more scenes. She promised she wouldn't play the jealous girlfriend anymore.
She trusts him. Doesn't she?
"Do you wish to order, miss?" the waitress' voice reaches her ears. She groans inwardly.
Not again.
She raises her head, staring at her squarely in the eye. "I'm waiting for someone."
"Oh," the waitress squeals, noticing she's hitting a nerve. "Would you like a drink while you wait?"
"Yes, please," she replies, her tone clipped. "One margarita."
The girl scurries off to the bar, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
He's twenty minutes late.
She promised.
She starts playing with the ring on her middle finger, taking it off, then slipping it back on.
She wishes he would hurry.
She promised.
Her mind is reeling, re-examining every one of her words and actions. Is he angry with her? Is he being late on purpose?
He knows she hates latecomers. Not that this would be the first time he's late, she thinks bitterly, biting her lip.
It first happened on their third date, when she waited for him for fortyfive minutes and he claimed he had been held back because of a terrible traffic congestion.
Then it happened once again during the Christmas party at her office. He had completely forgotten about it, leaving her to fend for herself among gossipers and shrews who looked at her with reproachful stares.
Look at Mills, on her own for another year.
No wonder she's called Evil Queen.
But his record had been on her birthday. Regina still remembers the feeling of helplessness, dread twisting her stomach, bile rising in her throat at the sympathetic looks she got from the other clients. He entered the restaurant after an hour and a half, wearing the most relaxed smile she had ever seen and a bouquet of almost wilted flowers in his hand, barely grazing her cheek with his lips, and the only thing that Regina could think of was that she hated freesias.
The waitress returns with her order, leaving the glass on her table with a pitiful look.
Regina doesn't pay attention to her and takes a long sip of her cocktail. Tequila rolls down her tongue, burning her throat deliciously. At least there's alcohol.
She crosses her legs, then uncrosses them.
Same, old David, she thinks again, almost huffing aloud in irritation.
She can't help letting her imagination picture where he could be, with whom he could be. Suspicion grips her mind once again, playing her nerves like a harp.
It would't be the first time...
She promised.
She gulps tequila down again, staring at the now empty glass.
Oh, she has seen how he looks at his new colleague, the few times she met him after work. His boss has recently employed a young woman with a silly looking, heart shaped face, a ridiculous pixie cut and big, green, doe eyes that Regina knows David can't resist. He used to be enamored of her dark eyes once, she thinks ironically.
She takes the ring off her finger again, then slips it back on almost violently, rubbing her skin red.
She promised.
She should trust him.
But she doesn't. Not after all his false smiles, all his lies.
He's lying, she knows, but she just doesn't want to admit it yet. It would be far too painful.
Love is weakness, Regina. Her mother's voice echoes in her head, almost driving her on the verge of tears.
She let her defences down because of him, allowing him to hurt her. And he doesn't care if she feels broken inside, he doesn't care if she feels like an idiot for letting him in.
As always, mother proved right.
Better marry for money than for love. At least you'd be better off.
She can't let her relationship with him go on any further, she knows.
She can't let him worsen her heartbreak.
She needs to nurse her own wounds alone, and she doesn't know how long it will take for her to open up again. Probably forever.
She laughs at the absurdity of it all, drawing the waitress' attention, who flashes her a sickly sweet smile, asking her if she's ready to order. Again.
"The kitchen is closing in an hour," she offers as an apology for her insistence.
Some children sat at the table next to hers with their parents turn to look at her curiously.
"Mommy while is that lady alone?" the younger child asks loudly, before being hastily shushed by his mother. She avoids rolling her eyes at the situation.
As if dining alone was a curse.
"I'll have another one," Regina drawls, glacing at her empty glass.
The girl nods slowly, schooling her expression into one of professionalism instead of a compassionate one.
Another one left by herself tonight. Poor dear, she must love him so.
Regina stares at the girl hard enough for her to take the cue to leave, before slumping in her chair, sighing.
She can't bear this anymore.
He's forty minutes late.
She promised.
"I can't stand this situation anymore, Regina," David complained once, after having arrived late for the umpteenth time.
"I told you I was stuck in a meeting. We're having a crisis with our Chinese suppliers, I couldn't very well leave my colleagues to fend for themselves!"
But he always left Regina to fend for herself.
"Actually, now that I think about it, could you bring me a whiskey sour as well? On the rocks."
The waitress stops dead in her tracks before slowly turning to face her, a polite smile stretching her face unnaturally.
She seems to consider her order, as if uncertain whether to serve cocktails to a drunkard or not. Regina Mills is many things but most certainly not a drunk. And especially not over a man.
"Are you sure, miss?" the girl's tone is so patronising Regina isn't sure of whether to strangle her or biting her head off.
I can't stand this anymore.
She promised.
"I said I would like a whiskey sour. On the rocks," she growls dangerously low, unconsciously closing her hands tight, digging her nails into her palms.
And that's when he sees her. He's just entered the restaurant, seeking shelter from the storm raging outside. He puts his umbrella on the stand, before shedding his soaked coat and passing a hand through his wet hair, surveying the room.
Most of the tables are occupied, all of the clients in the room probably having had his same idea.
The staff is busy scurring back and forth: taking orders, serving food, arguing...
A tall, slender girl of around twenty is quarrelling with one of the patrons, a dark haired and elegantly dressed woman.
He's not near enough to hear what's being said, but he can tell the older woman seems on the verge of losing her patience, her jaw tight, her nails digging into her palms.
"Is Sharon having problems?" one of the waitresses asks another.
"I suppose she is. Just a lonely woman waiting for a man who will never arrive. I guess that means she's been dumped," she snickers crudely.
Her interlocutor joins in, laughing loudly before walking away to attend to some
customers.
He looks at the woman once again. Calling her stunning would be an understatement.
Her red, supple lips are curled in irritation, her lovely, dark chocolate eyes throwing daggers at the waitress.
The red cocktail dress she's wearing clungs to her body in a way that should be considered illegal, showing a generous, though not excessive, portion of her cleavage. Her shiny, jet black hair glows under the lights, curling around her shoulders and framing her wonderful face.
He doesn't know how any man could forget having a dinner engagement with such a beauty.
I guess that means she's been dumped.
He acts before he can think. He strides towards her table, wearing his best apologetic smile, before loudly greeting her, "Sorry, love, I'm late. Traffic is crazy right now."
Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline and she opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out of it.
The waitress is looking at him in astonishment, even more surprised than her client, if that is possible.
He then leans in to kiss the woman on the cheek, quietly adding, "I'm Robin, just go with it, yeah? Whoever didn't bother to show up is a dick."
She clears her throat as he moves away, trying hard not to blush.
Just play along, Regina.
"Took you some time," she smiles at him and his heart jumps in his chest.
She then turns her head to face the girl, a deadly expression on her face. "Now, will you get me that whiskey sour, please dear?" she spits the word sharply.
The waitress looks at them both sheepishly, before muttering her apologies and running away.
"I almost thought she would cry," Robin tells her in a heavy British accent, flashing her a cheeky smile.
She feels her insides jolt.
He has a lovely smile. And dimples. She's always been a sucker for dimples.
"Well, she deserves it," she utters, one eyebrow arching elegantly in mock superiority.
"I'm sure she does," he agrees with her with a chuckle.
"So, how's your day been?"
He has caught her off guard, he can tell. The moment his words leave his mouth her expression falls, her eyes become guarded.
He can see she's having some difficulties in opening up, so he prompts her, "Was it any good?"
"More or less," she starts tentatively.
"And how are your idiot coworkers?" he tries. She looks like she's had a rough day at work. Or maybe it's just that jerk's fault. The man who should be having dinner with her but obviously isn't.
"Still working in my same office," she comments snarkily.
He bites his lip, amused at her sassy demeanour.
"How are yours?" she attempts at some conversation.
"Still merry and carefree."
"Merry working men? What kind of job do you do?" she snorts.
"A job that makes me happy," he replies honestly.
"I don't know if happy and job can exist in the same sentence," Regina points out.
"Oh, I believe they can. Even happy and life can exist in the same sentence."
She bites the inside of her cheek, turning her eyes downwards, and he can tell he's hit a nerve.
He starts apologising but she interrupts him in a soft voice, "You sound so hopeful," she can't help her tone of distaste. It's almost as if she can't stand the word. Hopeful. Hope.
"I believe hope is a very powerful thing. I believe in positive change and second chances."
"You do?" she asks incredulously, derisively.
"I do, indeed. Even though I'm not sure whoever should be here in my stead should deserve a second chance," he offers.
Regina bits her lip hard. "And I'm not sure that's any of your business..." she racks her brains in search for a suitable attribute "Thief."
He widens his eyes in amusement. "Thief?"
"Yes, you... stole that seat."
He laughs out loud and she can't help a pleasant feeling from invading her chest.
He's cute.
"Well, I believe I'm saving your ass, milady," he jabs playfully.
She blushes profusely at his statement - her sun kissed skin looks so soft Robin finds himself wishing he could caress her cheeks.
"A simple thank you would suffice," he softly replies, an amused glint in his piercing blue eyes.
She smiles mischievously at him and he thinks of things he has no right to think.
"I didn't ask for a dinner companion," she points out.
"You didn't."
"Well then, why are you here?"
"Because I've set my heart on making you change your mind," he confessed. "You can get a second chance too, you know."
"I'm not some desperate damsel in distress," she grits her teeth, squaring her shoulders. She doesn't need compassion from anyone, her new acquaintance least of all.
"I've never thought you were," he states, his voice sincere.
She seems to relent then, visibily relaxing her shoulders. "Well then, I guess you can dine with me," she concedes.
"Her Majesty is too kind."
"See that you deserve the honour," she plays along with him.
"I wouldn't dream of disappointing you," he stares at her intently, and his warm look makes her shiver.
Despite the hustle and bustle in the restaurant, they finally manage to order something, and Regina tucks in with gusto, famished.
Conversation flows easily, their witty banter continuing all night long, and Regina finds herself admitting she likes Robin. He seems a decent enough guy, honest and kind.
"I believe you owe me a favour then," he points out after having grudgingly accepted to split their bill. She isn't a damsel in distress after all. She can pay her own bills.
She looks up to him, frowning, and he hastily explains himself. "Don't worry, it's not what you're thinking."
He will never ask for what she's not willing to give, he needs her to understand that.
"What is it, then?" she wonders in that sultry voice of hers and oh, it does things to him.
"I was thinking of asking you out."
"You want to go out with me? As in... a date?" she sounds so taken aback it's like she's never been asked out before. He can't believe that: she's far too gorgeous, she'll surely have her own fair share of suitors.
"As in a date," he confirms sheepishly.
She nods slowly in agreement, "Very well."
"Is that a yes?"
"It is."
He scribbles his number on her napkin and she folds it carefully before putting it in her purse.
They make their way out and he takes advantage of her temporary distraction to gently help her into her peach coat.
His fingers lightly graze her neck and she feel a strange fluttering in her stomach, quickly averting her eyes before they give her away.
He hails her taxi, holding up his umbrella while waiting for her to get into the car.
He then closes his umbrella and gives it to her.
"You'll get drenched in water!" she exclaims, incredulous eyes taking him in.
"At least I have an excuse to see you again," he grins cheekily at her.
She curls her lips upwards in an elusive smile, averting her eyes.
"You haven't even told me your name," he remembers then, too caught up in the beauty of her face to realise.
"It's Regina," she smiles shyly at him for the first time that night, before closing the car door. And as the the taxi drives away, he realises he's hopelessly, irrevocably smitten with her.
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