(A/N: So…like many authors on this site, I have trouble completing a project. Which is why I've come back to this story, despite the humungous hiatus, and will try to finish it. I've actually planned out the story as a whole, an outline you could say, but I never really filled in the details, so I apologize if things are suddenly put in fast forward. I'd just like to have another completed story in my books before I die, you know? Anyway, I hope you forgive me for this story's long wait, and enjoy!)
Natasha's POV
"I could kill you," I deliberated as I took my time with wrapping the last few steak knives in napkins.
"I'm so sorry, Shay," Charlie whined safely behind the dirty dishes wall. "But—"
"You just couldn't hold it in, could you?" I scolded. "Your inner fangirl."
She whimpered, and shook her head. "You know how I am with famous people."
"Please," I scoffed, "he's hardly a celebrity. If he was really famous, he wouldn't be a camp counselor at that place across the lake from my house."
"Let me make it up to you," Charlie offered, still cowering. "I can…do your make up for your date tonight!"
"It is not a date," I snapped. "Jerk's just using me to make his girlfriend jealous." Hearing the words come out of my mouth made me feel even more disgusting and lowly. But I was getting paid for this…
Oh god, do I not have any self-respect?
"Whatever. A date's a date." Suddenly brave, Charlie tiptoed around from her hiding spot and yanked me from the tableware prep. "You're just in luck, too, Shay," she said, eyes gleaming. "I just bought some new stuff from the drugstore."
I was cutting it close. Our agreement had me set to meet up for the double date—never failed to make me shudder—in half an hour, but due to tonight's shift, I was too exhausted to put any effort into getting ready. I found an old dress in the back of my closet, and jumped into it while I let Charlie go to work with the foundation and blush and lipstick. I tied my hair back into a simple pony tail and we were out the door.
Charlie dropped me off in front of the grand hotel in these parts of town, like she was my personal chauffeur. But she didn't peel off the curb without asking me to get an autograph from the rest of the bandmates, if they were there, too.
I rolled my eyes and entered the hotel in my old dress, mumbling a thank you to the doorman as I did. The funny thing was, I didn't feel so out of place when I stepped foot on the plush carpeting and underneath the chandelier lighting. The people that stayed here were the very same people who ate at Mahogany Cork, all dressed in their standard of dress shirts and skirts, which made me wonder.
Why didn't they just stay at the hotel to eat, rather than eat at some dinky place like Mahogany Cork?
"Right this way, Miss," an unsuspecting employee said, as if he knew me. He ushered me towards the direction of the hotel's main dining room.
And out of all the twenty or so tables, only two were occupied. I could see that business was truly buzzing over here…
The employee led me to one of the two tables set for dinner, and it was the table that Mr. White Pants was sitting at. By himself.
"You're late," Shane said without as much as a thank you or courtesy nod to the hotel employee.
I ignored his judging my outfit and sat down across from him at the table. Without hesitation, I smirked, "And apparently, so are Mitchie and Brad."
Shane's POV
"Yeah, Brad," I grumbled all the while glaring at the empty seats. "He had to take care of something, back at the camp grounds, so Mitchie thought it would best if we had our alone time while she went with Brad."
"Great," Natasha said, a little too brightly for my tastes. "So I can go. I'll call my ride."
"Oh no you don't," I replied firmly. "I paid for this reservation, and I'm not letting it go to waste. But don't worry, I ordered for you already so we can both leave as soon as we're done with our food."
She was so eager to make a run for it, but she stopped in mid-air, just about to leave the table, and slowly sat back down. She eyed me suspiciously. "This wasn't…a ruse, was it?" she asked warily.
"A ruse?" I mocked her, reflecting the question.
She narrowed her eyes at me. "I mean, you didn't set this whole thing up so that…you…and…I…"
I almost spat back into my flute glass. "You must be joking," I sneered.
She lifted a hand to her face, scratching nervously, actually embarrassed. "Well, I mean, if you look at how things turned out—"
"Don't flatter yourself," I said. The food arrived just in time so we both dropped our attention to our plates. "If I was going to take you out on a date, it wouldn't be at this dump. I was trying to be a little humble for Mitchie, so she could see that I've changed and blah, blah." I stole a glance upwards to see if Natasha was still deathly mortified.
"Plan worked out well," she said sarcastically, still rubbing at her cheek to get rid of the sheer flush.
It was amusing, seeing her fidget like that. Shane Grey's still got it. "At least I didn't wear a dress from the 90's," I said before taking a bite of my steak, which was tough and chewy. No wonder this place was empty. The food was a joke.
"This is my mom's," she said, suddenly defensive. "I think."
"Oh, sorry." I nodded. "So it's from the 70's. Should've guessed from the design." It was floral, which I didn't think would fit her, but it did. It kind of balanced out her attitude.
She returned the glare I was giving her. "You know, I really question your knowledge of fabric."
"It's vintage; I like vintage." I shrugged my shoulders. "And vintage just suits some people…"
She was about to taste the puddle of horribly looking pasta when she stopped short. "Wait," she said, a grin slowly appearing on her reddened face. "Was that a compliment?"
Taken aback, I cocked my head forward and retorted, "Are you seriously blushing? Still?"
"What?" She responded by craning her neck back and scratching her cheek again. "I am not blushing. Certainly not because of you."
"Then why is your face so red?"
Her scratching became more and more intense, and I thought it was because she was getting nervous. But when she held up a butter knife to use to see her reflection, she gasped in horror, "Oh my god…"
"Are you—are you allergic or something?" I asked. "You haven't even eaten the food, although I wouldn't blame you because it is just disgusting. I would rather go back to your hole-in-the-wall, to be honest—"
"Shane!" she yelled at me, for once using my first name. It shocked us both. Natasha grabbed handfuls of her dress out of anxiety before she shot up from her seat and grumbled, "God damn it, Charlie."
Natasha's POV
"Great first date," Shane teased as he aimlessly walked around the room while I got shots and pressed iced on my face. Here we were, out of all places, at the clinic. Why I put my life in Charlie's hands, I will never know.
"Swell," I agreed once more with disdain. "You really know how to treat a girl out. I feel like I should warn Mitchie about the great time she's about to have."
"Hey, I had nothing to do with your blushing and slow allergic reaction to looking nice."
I studied him, walking back and forth across the private room he had requested. I knew he didn't like the idea of sitting down on "sick people's" furniture, which could explain the pacing.
"You know, that sounded a lot like a compliment again," I pointed out. "You just said I looked nice."
"Oh, no," he cooed sympathetically. "No, no, you see, that must be drugs."
I huffed. "Just give me my paycheck for tonight and you can leave." I held out an expectant hand.
Shane gave me a look, and I could see the slow gears turning. Nothing good ever came out of that, I'd realized. "Half," he decided as he whipped out his checkbook. "I should really have you owe me for that horrible dinner—"
"You chose the place!"
"—and for this room—"
"I did not ask for this."
"—but I'll give this 'nice guy' deal a try, and give you half your earnings," he finished with a satisfied grin. I wanted to take my free hand and slap that grin right off.
"And when will I get the other half?" I asked.
"When this double date follows through," he answered. "And yes, that means we will have to do this again soon." His signature on the check gave him the cue to check out. "But, you know, without this hospital visit would be nice," he smirked.
Minutes after Shane's sarcastic exit, Charlie barged in. Practically on her knees again.
I knew it wasn't the best idea in my condition, but I lunged at her anyway. We were at a clinic already.