Chapter 3 - How To Have a Decent Conversation
It took her being occupied and in a second, he took the opportunity to discreetly watch her; the slight tilt of her head as she perused the menu, the long and slender finger moving down the page as she scanned each item on it and the way she bit on her bottom lip as she considered her options.
"I've made up my mind," she declared.
"Finally," he muttered.
When she finally placed her order, Haymitch stared at her. It was the two exact things she had told him she wanted even before they left Finnick's house – margarita and shrimp cocktail.
"You already knew what you wanted," he deadpanned, "you didn't have to take ten fuckin' minutes browsing the menu."
"I don't see what the problem is. Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps I might want something else? It just so happen that there was nothing on the menu that I wanted more than shrimp cocktail."
"Is this why none of your other dates worked out? You're difficult – that's what the problem is," he snorted. "Careful, sweetheart. You don't want to give other men the impression that you might be a bit of a bitch, yeah?"
She stared at him coldly. "I was told you like difficult women."
"Oh? Was that all for me, then?" he mocked, refusing to back down to the lights of her.
"Of course not," she waved him away. "We are done. There is no need for me to put up an act for a man who do not intend to pursue me, is there?"
He chuckled. "Your logic's pretty messed up, Trinket."
Interestingly enough, he leaned forward suddenly curious.
"Out of curiousity, how exactly would you act if that date had not been a disaster and I wanted to say ... 'pursue' you," he air quoted. "Hypothetically, of course."
Effie did not answer immediately. She allowed the waitress to place their food on the table before thanking her with a smile.
"Well, you are not and that date was a disaster so the point is moot," she said once the waitress was gone.
"Okay, just to put it out there, it wouldn't have worked even if I wasn't being an asshole that night."
"Why is that?"
"You ain't gonna be yourself, yeah? You'd be puttin' up a front and I get it. I get why some people do that except... you know, I ain't sure I'm gonna like that and I can see through an act most of the time, drunk or not. You should just be yourself and if the guy you're with doesn't like it then..." He shrugged, "you know you don't have to waste your time on him then. It's gotta be you that he wants, not... not someone else, not some fake smiles and polite laughter or whatever other shit you do to look desirable"
"Haymitch Abernathy," her lips curled upwards into a smile, "the love guru. I was not expecting that from you of all people. I am truly surprised, and I mean it in a good way."
He cringed. Finding something to distract himself, he grabbed his glass of whiskey.
"I have been wondering... I know Finnick quite well, I must say, and he would not have sent me on a date with just any man. He recommended you which mean that there must be something good about you. Your behaviour that night… Of course, you've told me yourself that you did it just to get Katniss and Peeta off your back but... Why were they insistent on setting you up?"
"They know I won't ever go on one myself – that I needed a little push so to speak. They..." He exhaled and without asking for her permission, took a shrimp and dipped it in the cocktail sauce. "They think I've been alone for too long. They're worried 'bout me or some shit. Those kids... They mean well but I don't need them meddlin'."
"I see... Were you never interested in any of the women they paired you up with so far?"
"There weren't many," he chuckled. "Two – someone else and you. Don't get me wrong, sweetheart, you're gorgeous. I ain't blind – I know a pretty woman when I see one and you turned heads just walkin' in here. That guy over there," he jerked his chin to someone behind her shoulder, "has been checking you out since we sat down."
"I'm sensing a 'but' here..."
"I'm just not interested when I'm pushed into doing somethin'. You were just – uh – collateral damage."
"Is that so?" Effie tilted her head. "I did consider the thought that perhaps you ... lean the other way."
"What other – no," his eyes widened when her implications set in. "Nah, I like women. I think they're God sent. If we were at a bar and I didn't know you, I'd have tried to pick you up."
"You wouldn't have succeeded," she informed him confidently.
"Doesn't matter. I like the challenge," he winked.
"Is that what you do? Pick women up from bars? One night stands?" She queried. "You have been in a relationship before, yes?"
Haymitch sighed in irritation. He was tired of her questions. All he wanted was to have a drink, not be drilled on the history of his relationship.
"Okay, sweetheart, I'm gonna answer this one last question and then you're gonna drop it," he told her with a note of finality. "You prod any further, it's gonna be really personal and I don't want to do personal – not tonight."
"Fair enough," she agreed and waited for his answer to her earlier question.
"In somethin' serious... Yeah, sure, once," he told her without meeting her eyes. He plucked another shrimp from the bowl. "Lost her. Never got into anything serious after that."
His girl was dead but Effie interpreted it as everyone else would – that his relationship ended for some reasons; that she left him over a disagreement. He wished that was the case. He wished it had been that simple because at least then, she would still be alive.
"Since we are not doing questions, can I tell you something?"
Haymitch raised his gaze to see her playing with the pendant on her necklace and naturally, he was drawn to the sight of her cleavage.
He tore his gaze away to look at her.
"Sure."
"For quite some time now, I believe that I am the problem," she admitted, stirring her margarita. "I couldn't pinpoint the exact reason. Perhaps, I had too high a standard or too picky or like you said it, too difficult. No one lasted for long. No one is committed enough to stay. I have a good career but it is not enough when I still return home to an empty house. It is not... fulfilling and I want something meaningful. I know that I am beautiful," she went on which caused Haymitch to raise a brow at her statement, wondering how one could be afflicted with self-doubt and yet confident at the same time. "That was the first thing you said about me too – that I am gorgeous and pretty – but that comes with its own set of problems, doesn't it?
Not quite understanding it, he asked, "What sort of problem would that be?"
"Mostly, men only want to sleep with me. It didn't help that when you first met me and when we barely knew each other, the first thing you told me was that you wanted to take me to bed. It just reinforces the - "
"I didn't mean it," Haymitch muttered. He had the grace to look ashamed. He wasn't sure just how his words and actions had affected her. He didn't think the fact that she was uncertain of herself should be put on him but it didn't make him feel good either to have acted like a jerk towards her. "You know that I didn't mean it."
"I did not know it then. Not until much later when you shed light on what you were doing. It still made me wonder if I am only just worth taking to bed."
"Don't be stupid, Trinket," he growled. "'Course, you're not. Look, I don't really know you but I'm sure you have your own set of redeeming qualities. Finnick and Peeta wouldn't throw me to a harpy."
Effie frowned. "That is not such a nice word to describe any women."
"You know what I mean," he stared at her pointedly before calling for the bill. He had spent far too long with her tonight and it was time to end it.
Haymitch paid the bill and stood up, ready to leave. Effie was still seated. She had the receipt in hand and had mentally divided the bill in half. Just as she grabbed her purse to settle her share of the bill, Haymitch waved her off.
"It's fine," he shrugged. He took the receipt back from her and folded it in half to keep in his breast pocket. "Come on."
They left the restaurant together and he couldn't help but notice the same man still eyeing her with open interest. If he wasn't around, there was no doubt the man would have tried a move on her. Haymitch caught his gaze and lifted a challenging eyebrow just because he felt like it.
"Johanna and Annie must be wondering where I've went to," she pointed out with a laugh.
He walked next to her with his hands jammed in the pocket of his trousers. The cold breeze brought a freshness to the air that combined with then scent of her perfume, produced something unique that made him want to reach out to her so he could stand and smell the air.
"I had a really good time tonight," she confessed. "You are surprisingly a good listener."
Haymitch froze, his feet coming to a stop on the pathway. She turned when she realised that he was no longer walking next to her.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yeah," he nodded and as an afterthought, said, "Just so we're on the same page, that was not a date or anythin', sweetheart. I wanted a drink. You wanted shrimp cocktail. That's it. Nothin' more."
"Of course," she hummed with a smile that made him wary. "Although, hypothetically speaking, if tonight that been that night, I would definitely favour a second date with you. I would even ask you to call me."
That threw him off slightly but he gathered himself just as quickly and threw her a smirk.
"And hypothetically speaking, for the sake of argument, say I didn't call you after a few days or so..."
"I would have asked Finnick for your number, obviously, and I would have called you myself. If I want something, I will take control and do everything to get what I want."
He was not expecting the thrill and excitement at hearing her talk like that. Haymitch licked his lips and took a step closer towards her.
"You would do that, huh?"
"Yes, there is no point waiting around," she continued. "I believe firmly in taking actions."
"Really?"
"Thank you for walking me home," she said instead.
He blinked, startled and glanced around. True enough, Finnick's beach house was within sight. He should have gone to the left when they exited Seafood Shack instead, he had walked with her all the way and now his motel was at the other end.
"Sure, no problem," he shrugged.
It was not until later after he had checked in and was taking his clothes off when he caught sight of the receipt he had taken out from his pocket and thrown into the bin that he noticed. He walked towards the small rubbish bin in the room to retrieve the crumpled piece of paper. There at the back was her number.
His gaze kept darting from the number and his phone on the bedside table.
"Got a magic pen I didn't know about?" he typed into his phone because he really did not recall seeing her with a pen. "Puttin ur # on the back of a receipt – that's cheesy. I expected better."
He stared at the words and what the hell, it was just a text. He sent it to her.
How did you think it went? Was it a date by definition? Was it not?
One more chapter to go.
