Yes, figliedellatempesta takes a brief break from obsessing about Logan from Fable to bring you another chapter of the StevenMay action. I know this is a short one, but I promise more!
Yes, what now indeed. Steven Stone liked to think he was too old, too intelligent and too skilled to be reduced to the kind of nervous wreck that he became whenever he tried to call May; he was the Champion for God's sake, but whenever he picked up the phone and dialled May's number, all his calm, composure and dignity went out the window and he slammed the phone back down before she had the chance to answer.
It had been three days since Steven had last spoken to or seen May, and three days since that conversation with Wallace. Three days since he had resolved to man up and ask May out on a date. Three days which he had spent nervously pacing his office, picking the phone up and putting it back down again and engaging in every form of procrastination known to mankind in order to avoid his inevitable humiliation. Steven, being the Champion of Hoenn, did not like to be humiliated.
No, it was true, he did not like to be humiliated. But nor did he particularly enjoy feeling simultaneously sexually frustrated and embarrassed by his own inability to make a simple phone call. That was it, he resolved. It was time to risk the last shreds of his dignity and just call the damn girl.
He sat down at his desk, took a deep breath and dialled May's number yet again. The phone rang once, twice, three times… She's not in, he told himself, about to put the phone down when a female voice answered.
"Hello? May Maple speaking?"
Steven wiped a sweaty palm on his trousers, cleared his throat and said hello.
"How can I help you?" May asked sweetly.
"I um… I just wanted to ask you if… if… ifyou'dliketogooutsometime?"
"Sorry? I didn't quite catch that. Who is this anyway?"
"Oh. It's me, Steven."
"Oh hi. What were you asking me?"
"I wanted to ask if you'd like to… like to… gooutwithmesometime?"
"Pardon? I don't think this is a very good connection, I can't hear you very well. Could you say that again?"
"Ahem. Would you like to go out somewhere? With me? Sometime?"
"Oh. What, like a date?"
At least May wasn't there to notice how red Steven's face was becoming. "No… not a date! I mean, yes… sort of like a date. Unless you don't want to!"
May giggled. "Yes, I'd love to!"
"Oh… wow! Great!" This wasn't going half as badly as he had feared. "How about I pick you up tomorrow at seven and take you for dinner?"
"Yes, that sounds lovely."
"Great. I'll see you tomorrow then!"
"See you then," May chirped.
"Goodbye." Steven put down the phone.
It was official, then. Champion Steven Stone had a date with May Maple. Now he just had to try and avoid panicking for the next 24 hours.
As he paced his office for the hundredth time that evening, Steven began to become aware that avoiding panicking was more difficult than it looked on paper. It was just a dinner, sure. But what if he choked on his soup, or accidentally spilled food on himself or her? What if he couldn't make conversation and the night was painfully awkward? What if the whole thing was just a misunderstanding and May didn't really like him at all?
Don't be stupid, Steven, he muttered to himself under his breath, repeating it to himself over and over like a mantra, don't be stupid, as if those simple words would slow down his heartbeat and stop the uncomfortable dry sensation in his mouth.
"Miss Maple," he said aloud, proffering an imaginary chair to an imaginary May. He cleared his throat. "Miss Maple," he said again, making a rather awkward gesture as if to indicate that the imaginary May should sit down. "May I take your coat?" No, of course, she would not be wearing a coat - it was the middle of a warm summer. He cursed his own stupidity and lack of confidence. If only he'd taken a little more time to listen to Wallace; there was one thing that man didn't lack, and that was confidence.
The next day seemed to last a lifetime, with Steven snapping at everyone who had the misfortune to run into him. Come six o'clock, the Champion was stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom feeling utterly out of his depth, shirt in one hand, mobile phone in the other, deliberating over whether or not it would be an acceptable idea to call Wallace for advice.
"Yello?" Wallace answered the telephone in his usual debonair manner.
Steven sighed before replying. "Wallace, it's me," he said in a somewhat dejected tone. "I'm having dinner with May in an hour and I don't know what to wear."
"Well what have you got on at the moment?"
"Nothing. Well, pants…"
There was a momentary pause. "Now that I'd like to see."
"Can you please be serious just for one minute?"
"I was being serious."
If Steven had had a hand free, he would have facepalmed. He was, as he had intimated to Wallace, standing in his room in nothing but a pair of grey Calvin Kleins; he was rather partial to good, designer underwear. Strewn across his bed were an array of almost identical grey shirts of a variety of designer names, a few white shirts, a couple of black and grey blazers of varying cuts, a pair of Levis and a few pairs of black trousers.
"Shall I come over?" Wallace asked.
"Er… I'm sure that won't be necessary. Do you think I should go with a grey or a white shirt?"
"Grey? God Steven, this is a date, not a funeral. Can't you go with something a little more fun? Got anything turquoise?"
"Please bear in mind this is me we're talking about, Wallace, not you."
"Ah, point taken. Well if that's how you want to play it, go with the dark grey chinos, the light grey Abercrombie and a skinny black tie. I'd put that little ensemble with some black or grey converse high-tops, but being you, I suppose you're going to go dull and stick with brogues."
"Uh huh," Steven muttered, holding the phone against one side of his face as he struggled into a pair of chinos. He quickly pulled on the recommended shirt and went on a rapid search for a tie. A jacket wasn't particularly necessary, given the weather. He just needed a large amount of deodorant to make sure his crisp, ash coloured shirt didn't display any tell-tale sweat patches.
He surveyed the results in the mirror. The shirt complemented his tousled, silver grey hair and grey-blue eyes, not to mention subtly highlighting his broad, lightly muscled shoulders and toned abs. Well, there were upsides to all the training he did. The dark grey of the trousers made a nice contrast to the lighter shade of the shirt and the tie made it look snappy and modern without looking as if he'd tried too hard. He had to hand it to Wallace, he knew how to make a man look good.
"So… how is it?" Wallace demanded down the phone.
"Pretty good, I reckon."
"I knew it. Pretty damn fuckable, I'd say!"
"Wallace, I…"
"Yeah, yeah, I know… You'd never try and shag a girl on the first date. Mr chivalrous, aren't you."
"I hope so."
"Right, well good luck then, and if I don't get a blow-by-blow account of all the proceedings from you first thing tomorrow then I'll assume that's because you're taking Miss Maple to breakfast, if you catch my drift, in which case I'll expect one by tomorrow evening at least."
Ok, this is how this is going to work. Next chapter is going to be... the date! There are three ways this can turn out. a) sappy romance stuff. I can safely say this is not what I want to write, and anyone who has read anything I've ever written will know I don't really go for that. But nonetheless, its an option. b) toe-curling awkwardness. could be fun, I'm just saying. c) things could get a bit... citrussy, if you catch my drift. So, any indications of what anyone fancies and I'll get right on it :D New chapter will be within a week hopefully.