𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨 - 𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚒 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚔

concert hall.

Garrett left five minutes ago. I look at the clock hanging on the wall, right on top of the TV and the pointers show 7:54. Rami should have arrived. Did he repent and is laying down in his hotel bed? My thoughts are interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell, which makes me get up quickly from the couch. He's right here.

Before I open the door, I touch the doorknob and I freeze as if my body wasn't ready for that. For years I thought I wouldn't find someone because of three troubled relationships that lasted less than five months. And here I am, finally on a date. I turn the knob and I see Rami, elegant and very fragrant – I smell his perfume in the same second I open the door. He has a happy countenance, his eyes and smile bigger than usual. His casual pink flamingo suit hires with his black shirt and his seemingly new shoes. In his hands a simple bouquet, with white roses--my favorites. How does he know about my passion for white roses?

From his mouth, a sigh escapes when he looks at me carefully. Your eyes practically wander through my body, through my bare, thin legs. The glow in your eyes makes me ashamed. "White roses are your favorites. I saw it on your Instagram profile." He says, extending his arm to me. A white ribbon wraps the plastic that keeps the roses together. "I could put these flowers in a jug with water. But it's not every day I get a bouquet of roses, so this bouquet goes with me." I say, smelling them. My smile is bigger than usual, and I feel my cheeks blusher and burning. He raises an eyebrow like he's surprised at my reaction. I close the door behind me and Rami guides me to a silver car.

He opens the passenger door so I can get in. The car with leather seats is cold and I try to feel more comfortable while Rami turns around to sit on the driver's seat. He walks in, sits next to me and connects the engines. "Ready to go?" He asks me.

The restaurant is incredibly busy tonight. Cars park for a minute in front of the building, where well-dressed people deliver their keys to the valet. My stomach turns nervousness, so I pinch the tip of my dress tightly, while my legs are rubbing on each other. Rami's hands hold the wheel accurately, their eyes attentive to traffic as we move forward slowly. This place is too extravagant for me. I see some famous singers coming in and being surprised by photographers waiting outside the restaurant. All dressed in elegant and expensive clothes. My eyes go from the famous to me. I'm famous too, that's what they say. Yes, I made some famous movies. But I don't feel important. I feel like anyone else.

"Have you ever come here before?" I ask him.

"Well, I came here once with my friends on my birthday a few years ago. Why? "He questions me, supporting his hand in his lap.

Well, I'm not a social or a classy person, I'm simple. "Just out of curiosity," I say, looking through the glass, all the suits and dresses coming in and out of the restaurant. "It seems to be an important place... and expensive," I add, almost whispering.

"Don't you like it?" he asks as if he could see my discomfort.

"It's not that I don't like it, it seems to be a wonderful place." He doesn't seem convinced by my answer. "If you want to know me better, the first thing about me that I should know is that I'm a simple person: Of course I love spending money, but I don't care about material things. No expensive restaurants. If you take me to McDonald's or Burger King, I'd like it the same way." I explain, leaning a little to him. "Sometimes people don't get me right, so..."

He looks at me differently. He's never looked at me that way before. He seems surprised and frightened and amazed. Your smile is sideways and he seems to want to tell me something. I lift my eyebrows, waiting for an answer from him. His smile grows and something is going on in his head right now. His hand rests on the wheel again and curiosity dominates me. Say something, anything. He spins the wheel and I see we're coming out of the car line in front of the restaurant. He didn't like what I said.