Strange, considering we’re meant to be well into spring. My cheeks grow warmer and I swear I can feel everyone’s appraising eyes on me. I reach across the table for my handbag and walk quickly toward the exit. I pull my matching black coat off the back of my chair and shrug it on over my shoulders. I rise to my feet and straighten my short, black dress. “Uh,” A blush instantly springs to my cheeks and I cringe at the thought of how red they must look. “Are you ready to order?” The young waiter asks, running his fingers through the front of his long, blond fringe. Only the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat made me peer around my hair. Startled, I quickly look down at my menu, letting the long chocolate strands of my hair work as a curtain between us. I peer over to the bar and meet the waiter’s boyish face and blue eyes. To make matters worse, the waiter that has been coming over to my table for the past hour asking me if I want to order is the same damn waiter that has attempted to serve me the last two times I’ve been stood up. It’s the third time this month Blade has left me at Salsa’s Mexican restaurant waiting for him because he prefers to ‘hang with his boys’ over his girlfriend of six years. Sadly, this isn’t the first time I’ve been stood up. I toss my phone back into my handbag and I glance around the room, frustrated by Blade’s cancellation.
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