Page 9 of Studious
“Do you have a reservation?” host boy says in a bored tone.
“Yes. At least I think so.” While I’ll never be good at social interactions, at least I can kind of talk to strangers now, unlike when I was a kid.
He yawns. “Name?”
I clear my throat. “Alden Meyer.”
He frowns and checks his iPad, then looks up and grins over my shoulder at someone, giving them a chin lift. Focusing back on me, an overly patient expression clicking back into place, he asks, “Could it be under another name?”
“Probably. I didn’t make the reservation.” I know I’m testing his patience, but it’s not intentional. I’m just not good at talking with other people.Numbers. Give me numbers any day of the week. I understand those.“I’m meeting a guy named Sumner Banning.”
Sliding his fingers over the screen, he locates our table and gives me a tight smile. “Ah, yes. Let me show you to your seat. He’s already here.”
I follow the host through the crowded restaurant, my hands trembling the closer I get to my destination. “Here we are,” he says with a flourish, gesturing at a booth where a beefy man in a pink polo is waiting. My date, whom I’ve never met.
And I have no idea what I’m expected to do. Shake his hand? Say hi? Just sit down? Run away?
Thankfully, he saves me. “Are you Alden?” the beefy guy asks with a skeptical expression, sliding out of the booth and looming over me.
“Yeh-yes.” I offer my hand.
“Sumner.” He clasps my hand and shakes it firmly. I hope he doesn’t notice how clammy my palm is, but I’m pretty sure he can’t miss it. His paw dwarfs mine. I hold it until he pulls it back and sits down. Should I wait for him to invite me to sit? I stand for a moment, until the host does a little cough behind me.
“Is it okay?” I gesture at the place opposite Sumner.
“Of course.”
When I’m settled, the host picks up the menu already on the table and places it in my hands. “Enjoy your meal.”
I look up at the host. “You, too.” I wince. “I mean, uh, you have a good day, too.” He restrains an eye roll before he leaves to help more competent folks.
Hopeless. I’m Hopeless with a capital H. I just get so nervous that, despite this not being my first date, despite everything I’ve done over the years to try and get over being awkward, I forget…everything.
While I want to bury myself in studying the menu for the foreseeable future—setting aside the fact that my anxiety has killed my appetite—I look at my date and aim for a smile, although it might be a grimace. It’s hard to know what my face does without my permission.
Sumner has thick, shiny, golden blond hair, cut short, and hazel-green eyes. He smiles back at me. His teeth are very white, and his biceps bulge under his tight sleeves.
I’m so out of my league. I don’t know why I ever thought this would be a good idea.
Well, the truth is Ididn’tthink it was a good idea, but his great-aunt and my grandmother are friends, and I daren’t say no to my gran. She thought this date would make me come out of my shell or something. She thought wrong.
“I don’t bite, you know,” Sumner says, interrupting my spiral.
“Wha-what?”
“You look nervous. I don’t bite. Not unless it’s called for.” He gives me a wolfish grin that makes me feel all kinds of embarrassed, because I’m pretty sure it’s just a line.
Unless he has a thing for geeky guys with unruly hair, this date is a lost cause. Dead on arrival.
I gulp. “Okay. Good to know.” I start reading the menu, but I have no idea what to do. While obviously I’ve ordered in restaurants before, I normally go to ones I know, and I always order the same thing so I don’t have the pressure of having to choose. Because what if I choose wrong?
Here, though, I have no idea what’s right. The words are in English, but that’s not helping me at all. Will I like air bread filled with Fiscalini cheddar espuma? Or hibiscus pectin marmalade?
Help.
I straighten my shoulders. I can do this. “Um. What’s good here?” I ask.
“Everything.” He grins again, but his face falls when he sees that mine hasn’t changed expression. Because that was no help at all.
