She wore her nicest dress with her nicest jewelry and bothered to do something with her hair. Held up with shining crystal berets, the up-do worked nicely with the outfit.
He wore the only suit he owned and shined his shoes. He tried, in vain, to brush his hair. He used the cologne given to him for his last birthday for the first time.
They paid the $20 for the valet parking. They entered the restaurant and were led to their table by a man dressed in a suit with actual coattails and white gloves. Sasuke didn't know they actually still made suits with coattails anymore.
Menus written completely in French held firmly in their palms, they listened as the waiter reeled off a long list of wine after wine, cognac after cognac, fancy champagne after fancy champagne. Hinata opted for plain water; he chose one of the random names he had heard.
While they waited for their meal to be served, she visited the ladies' room. Silver sinks and potpourri decorated the place and the toilets were so complicated she left without having sat on a single one.
Finally, after a hushed conversation about how exclusive and fine the restaurant was, their meals arrived.
Hinata smiled eagerly as her plate was put before her; Sasuke's face remained the emotionless mask, one eyebrow slightly raised in anticipation.
The place was fancy, exclusive, expensive. Considering the price of the food, they expected nothing less than a banquet fit for a king's entire royal court.
And they received the tiniest cut of meat, half a teaspoon of something mashed, drizzled over with some kind of gravy or sauce. The worst kind of disappointment.
Sasuke gazed down at his serving of food, his eyebrows slowly coming down, his expression becoming more and more livid by the second. Hinata looked down at the many spoons and forks, confused as to which one to use. A sudden movement made her look up, her eyebrows rose in confusion as she saw a couple of bills flutter down on the table, Sasuke stand up and begin to walk away. Almost tripping over in her haste to catch up to him, she grabbed her purse and tottered after him, blushing as the entire restaurant looked over at the couple. She hated being in the spotlight.
The waiter caught up to her. "Were you not satisfied with something?" he asked, his features twisted into a look of concern. "Em…. y-yes... but it's ok, we'll just be off, t-thank you for your service," she managed to stammer out. "We've p-paid for the meal as w-well."
Sasuke stood with his back to her, waiting for the car to show up. He muttered incoherently, certain words floating on the chilly night wind. "Expensive as hell…. worth shit… gay waiters…"
Tripping again, she broke one of her heels. She sighed, "Those were my nicest shoes too…"
The valet boy jumped out from the car, handing Sasuke the keys. His required, "Have a nice night sir," was unheard as the car squealed away, turning sharply at the corner and heading off into the distance.
She said nothing in the dark confines of the car, his murmured rant still continuing as if he hadn't noticed she was even there. Instead, she watched him with wide eyes, watched his lips move furiously fast as he said obscenities and vented his frustrations under his breath. The dark shadows under his eyes were made darker in the small light thrown off from the car stereo, whose bass was the only thing discernible in the lowered volume.
Had she paid attention to the road, she wouldn't have been surprised when bright lights hit her sensitive eyes and an unclear voice sounded over the speaker. "May I take your order?"
"Yes, I'd like a #2 with coke please," said Sasuke after he had quickly scanned over the menu. He turned to her expectantly and it took her a moment to realize it was her turn to order. "Would that be all for you tonight," asked the indifferent voice on the other side. "A salad, please, the lightest dressing… and iced tea," she said quietly. He repeated it into the speaker. "That'll be $10.56. Please pull up the next window."
Once they were back at his apartment, the broken heels came off. They were much too uncomfortable. Sasuke's jacket was thrown carelessly over the back of the couch, his tie loosened and shoes kicked off. Then he began eating like he'd never seen a burger in his entire life. He finally looked at her, his cheeks full of fries and ketchup and burger. "What," he asked after swallowing with difficulty, wondering why on earth she was laughing at him. "You've got some ketchup on your lip," she said between giggles. Not seeing any reason to waste a napkin, he licked it off and continued on with his meal. "You haven't touched your salad," he stated between ripping off chunks of his burger. She wasn't hungry, not anymore. Not after going to the most exclusive, most well-regarded restaurant in town to find it was a total dud. Not after having broken her nicest heels.
But she started it in on her salad anyway, taking occasional sips of her iced tea, wondering why she had ever even agreed to go out to dinner with him. As long as she had ever known him, he never showed any interest in anyone, least of all her, and he had always had a temper worthy of a pit bull. Yet she had agreed, and she still asked herself why. Even more perplexing was that she hadn't actually minded him storming out in the middle of dinner that night, almost leaving her behind, and being the reason her heel had broken. She was just happy that he'd finally stopped being so enigmatic and confirmed some of her suspicions; he did like her, on some level, that level still a mystery to her.
So the restaurant hadn't lived up to expectations. So he had spent $110.56 on dinner, the smallest fraction of that amount having bought the largest portion of the dinner. So he had hated the foreign wine, so he had scared her with his angry litany and his wild driving. So what? She was content having been noticed and he was satisfied with having finally asked her out. So the night hadn't been a total fiasco, right? Right.
I wasn't completely satisfied with this one. Something is wrong with it, I'm positive. Too bad I have no idea what that is.
All reviews are appreciated, constructive and otherwise. Shoot, I don't even really mind flamers; I'm sure they only flame because they care. Thank you for reading!
