You head down the creaky stairs and stare out into the pouring rain. It's a threat to you makeup. You duck your head and sprint to the car, hopping into the passenger seat. You look up to see Dan, grinning like a complete idiot, and all your worries melt away. You smile back, and it's not forced.
"Where to?" you ask, as Dan pulls out of sight of your disgusting apartment building.
"That's a surprise," he says with a wink.
"I hope it's not anywhere expensive, I don't have too much money on me."
"Haha, you're hilarious. Natural comedian," Dan says. You roll your eyes. "You're wearing makeup. Why?" Your heart freezes inside your chest.
"I just thought, you know, it's a date. I should be fancy. I'm wearing a dress too."
"You look beautiful. And for the record, you're also beautiful without makeup." You smile, and this time it's forced. If only he knew.
You make small talk the rest of the way to the restaurant. It's easy with Dan. Eventually, he pulls up in front of a fancy bistro.
"Oh, hell," you say, and Dan grins at you.
"Come on, you'll live." A snooty looking doorman pulls open the doors and you walk in. Another snooty man offers to take your coat. Dan hands his over and a small flare of panic arises in your chest.
"I'll keep mine, thanks," you say with what you hope is a polite smile. He nods and hangs up Dan's coat. Dan casts a puzzled look at you, but doesn't inquire any further. You're lead to a clothed table in the middle of a quietly chattering restaurant. The waiters place down menus and depart.
"This place is so fancy, I'm going to vomit. None of them have spoken, but I can already hear their French accents. It's like, radiating from them."
Dan chuckles. "Don't vomit, I'm sure that would cause quite a scene." He pulls a snooty face and speaks in the worst French accent you've ever heard. "Ah, non, zis ees unacceptableh, 'ou haff ruined our fine tablecloth. Vat is zeeees?" You laugh so loud the restaurant falls silent for a moment.
"That. Was. The. Worst. Accent. I. Have. Ever. Heard," you say, still grinning. Dan smiles back at you.
"A for effort," he says, picking up the menu. You do the same, your eyes skimming over it.
"I bet all of this stuff is microscopic, and they serve it on those huge plates and drizzle Hershey's chocolate sauce over it and charge £1000 for it," you say. It's Dan's turn to laugh. Sure enough, when they bring out your platter of Braised Lamb Shank, it's barely the size of your palm. Another waiter sets down a small bowl of Gnocchi in front of Dan and you cock an eyebrow to say "I told you so!" Dan can barely suppress his laughter.
"Ees zere anysing else I can geet you?" Asks the waiter, and you nearly explode in laughter.
"No, thanks. We're good for now," you say, eyes watering. The waiter raises his eyebrows. As soon as he walks away, you both stifle howls of laughter into your napkins. "Oh. My. God." you gasp, trying to keep tears from streaming down your face. "That was amazing."
"We're probably going to be banned from here," gasps Dan.
"Maybe they'll put us on their secret French spy list," you say. "Beware of zees two, zey are not fancy enuff." Dan blows out air at an alarming speed before stifling his shrieks in his napkin.
"Oh, God, they're going to kick us out," he wheezes. Everyone in the restaurant is staring at you.
"Sorry to ruin your meal, folks," you say. "Y'all carry on with your pleasant evening." Dan's shoulders are shaking, his head on the table. "Don't die now," you tell him. "Save that for when you choke on your Gnocchi."
The rest of the night ensues and it goes perfectly. Dan pays the £130 bill without a single flinch, which you compliment him on. Secretly, you tuck £20 into his pocket. It doesn't cover everything he's given you, but it makes you feel a little better. By the time you leave, the rain has completely escaped your mind. Only when you're halfway to the car do you remember...
"What the hell?!"
