by Zara Zenia
I must see her again!
With my mouth going dry, I tapped in her number and waited with baited breath. I noticed my hand was beginning to tremble. On the third ring, her sleepy voice emerged through the crackle of the breaking signal.
"Who is this?" she asked, angry.
"Demi? I'm sorry. So sorry, but I had to call you."
She paused for a second. There was the sound of a squeaking bed spring, the noise of her flicking on her light switch and stumbling about her room.
"Ethan? It's two in the morning!"
"I know. Sorry, it's just that... I'm reading the book you bought me and it's all about making your dreams come true."
She yawned and I imagined her stretching out like a kitten, cute and tiny.
"And?" she said.
"And? My dream is to see you again."
I don't know how I knew it, but I could sense she was smiling.
"I wanna see you again too," she said.
"Really?" I spluttered, surprised.
"Yes!"
"Okay, great. How about tomorrow night? I could take you out for dinner?"
That's what human women liked, wasn't it? Food in a reputable establishment. I remembered Benzen took Alison out for sushi and after that they were inseparable.
"Dinner would be lovely," she replied. "I'll text you tomorrow and we'll make arrangements."
"Awesome!"
Now that I got the news I was looking for, I suddenly felt as though I had no idea what else to say. Lingering on the line, I began chewing on my pencil again.
"So... I'm gonna go back to sleep now," she said with a laugh. "And you should too. It's late."
"I'm sorry I woke you."
"Don't be. I'm happy you called. See you tomorrow."
She hung up and for a long while, I clutched the phone in my hand with the sound of her voice ringing in my ears. I was going to see her again! And I owed it partly to this book. I picked it up and hugged it close to my chest.
But as the excitement grew, so did the anxiety. Now I had to impress her with dinner and that meant taking her somewhere nice and dressing appropriately.
Now my stomach was fluttering with the fear that I'd mess things up.
Turning to the book once again, I penciled in:
Number 4 - Buy a suit.
I flopped back on my bed, my heart hammering hard against my ribs as I thought of Demi's green eyes. Maybe tomorrow she would do more than just hug me... Maybe she'd kiss me too.
Chapter 4
Demi
I smoothed down the front of my dress and looked at myself in the reflection of the restaurant window. The place looked really fancy, too fancy for me. Le Cochon Noir was a place that specialized in French cuisine and, by the looks of it, snooty waiters too.
One of them was eyeing me suspiciously through the window as though I would break in at any moment and steal their foie gras.
Looking down at my phone, I noticed Ethan was almost ten minutes late. Maybe he wouldn't show up. My heart sank at the thought, but it seemed unlikely. After all, he was the one who called me in the middle of the night!
"He'll be here," I told myself and took a deep breath.
A moment later, there was a tap on my shoulder. I spun round and saw him. Or rather, I caught a glimpse of his dazzling smile through the enormous bouquet of roses he was holding.
"Oh, my God!" I squealed. "They're gorgeous!"
He handed them over and I inhaled the beautiful scent.
"Roses are my favorite," I said as I touched a finger to a fragile petal.
"I'm so glad to hear that."
It was then that I noticed the suit he was wearing. Jet black with a silk trim around the corners of the lapel, it made him look like a model from a Hugo Boss poster. Who is this guy? Last night he could barely afford a book and now he's looking like James Bond.
I wondered about who he really was but a couldn’t linger on the thought for long because he was soon taking me by the hand and pulling me toward the restaurant's entrance. His grip was firm but gentle, the skin on his hands smooth.
As we entered the dimly lit building, I viewed his profile in the subtle glow of the chandelier and felt myself swoon. He was even better looking than I remembered with high, regal cheekbones and long black lashes that framed his pale eyes.
I could see the waitresses were impressed with him, too and as we were seated by the window, they fawned over him, blushing and giggling as they fought over each other to serve him.
Hands off, I thought. He's my date. And a little swell of pride rose in my chest.
"You look incredible," I blurted out as the waitress disappeared with our drinks order.
"You, too," he replied as he slid his hand across the table.
I tangled my fingers in his. It felt so normal, so natural despite us hardly knowing each other.
"And your makedown is perfect," he said.
"Eh?"
"Makedown," he repeated and cast his eyes up to the ceiling as though he was trying to remember something. "I mean makeup!" he said. "Makeup. Yes... Your eyeliner is very much on ... fleek? Is that how you say it?"
I burst out laughing and he wrinkled up his face in confusion.
"Yeah, sorry. You're right. Thanks."
The waitress returned with a bottle of red wine which she presented to us with great ceremony.
"It's perfect," I chimed in, seeing that Ethan looked a little perplexed as to what to say.
"Have you had a chance to look at the menu?" she asked.
I'd only glanced at it and felt out of my depth. I didn't understand French and by the looks of it, neither did he.
"What would you recommend?" I asked, trying not to show my ignorance.
The waitress thought for a second as she twiddled her pen then said, "The steak tartare. A lot of people are a little afraid of it, but I think it's wonderful."
"Steak tartare?" Ethan asked. "What is it?"
She smiled and twiddled her pen some more.
"Raw steak meat, ground up, seasoned with cracked black pepper, a little Worcestershire sauce and finished with a raw egg on top."
"A raw egg?" I gasped.
"Eggs," Ethan said, thoughtfully. "I've heard of those."
The waitress and I stared at him and he just nodded with a pensive look.
"Two steak tartare then," he smiled and handed the menus back.
The waitress departed with a friendly smile, looking over her shoulder at me as she left with an amused smirk.
"Eggs," Ethan continued. "They are the unborn... Right?"
He had such a peculiar way with words but I loved it. It was weird and quirky.
"That's one way of looking at it."
He nodded as though he was mentally taking notes.
"And the eggs on the steak. Will they be fertilized or unfertilized?"
I slapped a hand to my face to stop myself laughing so hard I'd spit out my wine.
"I'd imagine they'd be unfertilized," I said.
"Uhuh... And will they be human?"
"Hopefully not. They'll most likely be from a chicken or a duck."
"Interesting..."
The conversation ebbed and for an excruciating moment, we were plunged into silence.
"So. thanks for inviting me out!" I said and took his hand in mine again.
"Oh, the pleasure is all mine," he smiled. "Really, I couldn't wait to see you again."
Beneath the table, our legs bumped together but I didn't pull away. Instead, I bit my lip and pressed my thigh into his. What are you doing? I thought. This isn't like you!
He was irresistible and as I looked at his hand in mine, I wondered what it would look like on my waist, what it would feel like around my wrist... I felt my body respond to the thought and shook my head to rid myself of the image.
"I'll be honest. I thought maybe you were moving too fast," I said.
"Oh?"
"Well, you did call me at two in the morning."
"I suppose
that is a little early," he said. "But I don't like playing games."
"I don't like that either. Carpe Diem and all that..."
He raised an eyebrow.
"What was that?"
"Carpe Diem, I repeated, "It means ‘seize the day’ in Latin."
"Latin?"
I was sure he must have heard of it before but the puzzled look on his face showed me he hadn't.
"It's an ancient language, one that is the basis for modern English."
"Seize the day," he said with a wicked smile twisting up the corners of his mouth. "I like that."
Dinner arrived and we looked at it for a moment, intimidated by the idea of raw meat.
"Raw beef," I said as I prodded my fork into it. "Seems a little scary."
Ethan regarded it for a second before lifting a forkful to his lips.
"I'll go for it first," he offered and we both watched the string of raw egg drip down from the ground beef.
Before he changed his mind, he took it in his mouth and swallowed it.
"Actually, it's nice!"
"Really?"
"Sure!"
Now it was my turn. I nibbled around the edge of a piece of beef and let it settle on my tongue for a moment.
"It is nice!" I said, surprised.
"It reminds me of something back home," he said as he chewed. "We also eat raw meat but it is seasoned with the nobs of the Neptune fruit."
"Neptune fruit?"
His eyes darted furtively from side to side.
"I haven't seen it here on Ear- in Washington before. Anyway, have you noticed the waiter over there?" he pointed his fork across the room as though trying to change the subject.
"Yeah, I saw him earlier. He didn't seem to like the look of me."
Ethan chortled with his mouth full and his cheeks filled with food. Usually, it would have been something I found to be disgusting but he looked adorable and I loved the way his eyes glistened when he was happy.
"What's so funny?"
He looked back over at the waiter, his eyes running the length and breadth of his body.
"He hates it here," he said. "He pretends as though he is the prince of the restaurant, walking around like everyone should worship him but his cockiness masks his misery."
"How do you know all that?" I asked, looking at the waiter and seeing if I could see the signs myself.
Ethan leaned across the table as though he was about to impart a tremendous secret.
"Observe his fingernails."
I squinted but he was so far away I couldn't see them clearly.
"What about them?"
"They are dry and brittle."
"And this makes him miserable because?"
"Well," Ethan leaned back. "It could be a basic vitamin b deficiency but look at the dullness of his hair, the darkness beneath his eyes and the expanded veins in his eyes."
Again, I looked deep into the waiter's face and tried to figure what Ethan was getting at.
"Sorry, you're going to have to spell it out for me."
Ethan sighed.
"He's a drinker, and a heavy one, too but there's something else. He has been sipping from that glass over there all evening," he pointed to a tumbler on the bar. "But it is merely sparkling water with a slice of lemon. He's not drinking alcohol at work."
I tried to put all the pieces together in my head but got quickly confused.
"It means..."
"It means he is secretly drinking and doing so to the point that it is having serious consequences on his health."
I stared dumbfounded. How had he figured all of this out?
"Whoa, you're good at this. Worryingly good. How did you learn how to be so observant?"
"I read a lot of detective books, don't I?" he grinned.
"Yeah but... Are you sure you're not a spy or something?"
He laughed and reached for his wine glass.
"I'm not a spy. I promise."
Glancing back at the waiter, the signs seemed obvious now. He looked exhausted and his haughty mannerisms only seemed to reinforce Ethan's point.
"Okay, do me," I said.
Ethan smirked.
"I mean... observe me. Tell me what you see. Am I hiding anything?"
He leaned back in his seat and crossed an ankle over onto his opposite leg. Tilting his head back as he regarded me with narrowed eyes, I couldn’t help but see the refined handsomeness of his face, the squareness of his jaw and the almost poreless perfection of his skin.
"You're a nervous girl," he said.
"Well, duh... That's obvious."
"You're more than nervous," he continued. "Actually, I think you're positively terrified of everything life has to offer."
"Wow, that's quite a statement to make," I said knowing he wasn't wrong.
"You're terrified that you'll get hurt and that's why you usually hide your feelings, especially from men. Tonight is a first time for you. You've had boys who were friends before but you've never had a serious boyfriend and you've never been taken out for dinner on a date.”
I swallowed and took a liberal gulp of wine.
"That's very perceptive of you," I said. "But how do you know all this?"
He pointed to my hands.
"The bitten nails, the flat shoes..."
"The flat shoes?"
"It shows you wanted to be smart but you were not confident enough to wear high heels like other girls here. It could also mean that you don't even own a pair because you're not used to being treated in a feminine capacity. I also think you've not had a boyfriend because you are not used to compliments about your looks. They scare you, humiliate you even. And when you hugged me last night, I felt your fear and the way you fumbled to find the right way to grasp me. You don't hug people often, do you?"
Stunned, all I could do was shake my head.
"I don't, no."
Now I was starting to think he was a psychic.
"Do you know what else I think about you?" he asked and touched a finger lightly to my forearm.
It sent a little flurry of tingles over my skin.
"Tell me."
"You are an empath. When you feel things, you feel them for everyone around you. You are highly sensitive, intuitive and when you sense something, you sense it without restraint. That is why you protect yourself emotionally because sometimes your feelings overwhelm you."
I couldn't explain it but I felt as though I was on the cusp of bursting into tears. He was so right about everything, frighteningly so.
"You should start up a detective agency of your own," I said.
"Someday I would like to do just that."
I glanced around the room looking to see who else he could analyze. There was a couple in the corner booth who looked deeply in love. They'd been gazing into each other's eyes all night and from where I was sitting, I could see the man's wedding ring glinting in the candle light.
"Them over there," I nodded my head in their direction. "What have you got to say about them?"
He pursed his lips and tented his fingers, scrunching up his face as he concentrated.
"That's not his wife," he said at last. "He's having an affair."
"What?"
I looked back over at them but couldn't see it. I mean, sure, the girl was a little younger than him but that wasn't uncommon, was it?
"An affair? Are you sure?"
He nodded and folded his arms disapprovingly.
"Yeah, I'm positive. See his wedding band? He's fiddling with it, almost as if it's irritating him. He wants to be rid of it but as he can't take it off, he plays with it instead. Notice his eyes too, they're sneaky and quick."
At first, I didn't know what he meant but then I saw him flick his gaze up toward a passing waitress's ass.
"Now that you mention it," I said. "He does seem to have a wandering eye."
"You want to know how I really figured it out?"
I nodded.
"Look at his shoes."
Without trying
to look too obvious, I gazed beneath the table. There was nothing strange about them, just regular leather brogues, Italian maybe, handmade most likely and a little dusty and scuffed around the edges.
"What about them?"
"Notice the dirt?"
"Yeah, and?"
"And... It looks like dust from blond sandstone blocks."
I had no idea what that meant.
"The only sandstone building around here is two streets away and the main entrance is getting refurbished."
"Maybe he lives there," I said.
"He doesn't. The apartments are small and cheap. It's more likely he's keeping her there as his mistress."
Aghast, I watched the couple interact and now every movement, touch, kiss and word that came from them was tinged with a newfound sleaziness.
"You're too good at this," I laughed as he drained the last of his wine with a wink.
The waitress sauntered back over and after we declined dessert, brought over the bill.
Outside, darkness had fallen and it would seem the night was over, but I didn't want it to be.
As we stepped outside, the cool air whipped at my face and I shivered.
"Here, take this," Ethan said and before I could protest, he took off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders.
"The perfect gentleman," I said and slipped my hand into his. "Thank you for everything. I had a great night."
"Me too."
I wondered if this was the time when he would say goodbye, or would he invite me back to his place? For a few minutes, we strolled in silence. Looking up at the sky, the crescent moon hung low and ripe. It looked so close, I felt as though I could reach up and pluck it from the sky.
Beyond it, the constellations glistened and I craned my neck to make out the shape of the Big Dipper. Ethan stopped and followed my gaze.
"See something?" he asked.
"Not really. Was just looking at the stars. They're beautiful, aren't they?"
For a fleeting second, his eyes glossed over with a faraway look as though he'd been struck by a memory.
"The only thing that's more beautiful is you," he said at last and I felt my heart skip.
