PETITE (shortstories)

i. dating apps and dinner dates

S E T T I N G ;  a divorced man at a singles bar 

T Y P E ;  short story

W O R D  C O U N T ; 1268

"I'm never going to dance again...guilty feet have got no rhythm..." drawled the lead singer, her frizzy white curls illuminated highlighter pink by the twisting spotlights. Everything in this bar was washed a luminescent shade of pink with occasional splashes of crimson scattered among the tall fake plants and round tables home to more than one drink. The low hanging amber lights cast flickering shadows on passing strangers: women scantily clad in little more than a silk handkerchief and men reeking of aftershave and nerves. I wasn't any better, the scent of Le Male by Jean Paul Gaultier mixing with the smell of whiskey that wafted from my glass. The perspiring drink had been clasped in my palm for the past twenty minutes and cold droplets raced one another down my knuckles. The waiter had shouted my name when he couldn't find my sulking figure amidst all the beaming couples.

'Where was she? Was I being stood up?'

I'd never had the best luck with the ladies, not after I puked on Holly Stemming in fourth grade during an intense basketball game shortly after Monday's macaroni and cheese. Despite the brunette being a good ten meters away, the contents of my lunch still ended up in a nauseating splatter across her spotless white vest. It took two years for a girl to approach me again and for the boys not to pretend-barf whenever the coach called for a basketball round. Finally I scored a date with Rachel Parker in freshman year and my hands were sweaty when I clasped her fingers awkwardly beneath a sky painted in stars. She'd been more interested in the waiter's dimples than my stuttering attempts at conversation and a week later, the class' gossip was excitedly telling us about Rachel being spotted in an intense lip-lock with the same dimpled twenty year old.

I went on three more dates in high school, the last one ending when the girl confessed she had feelings for my twin sister. After Lesbian Lucy, I remained behind books whilst my classmates lost their virginity beside moonlit lakes and in the backseats of cars. Finally, a year after graduation I met Margaret and we went on a date that was quite far from a disaster, with even a shy peck at her doorstep. We began dating a week later and, frankly, she was lovely. Not the biggest stunner with acne and square glasses, but she kept me company and her kisses were delicately sweet. However, we realized a year into marriage that we weren't suited for one another in a life-time commitment. Maybe it was the endless amount of chemistry books I'd hoarded in our apartment, maybe it was her high-pitched nagging and ability to burst into tears every three seconds but she moved out and my left fourth finger lost its gold trinket. So here I was, with my phone open on the dating app I'd been addicted to for weeks. According to the message I'd just received, "Daniella" should be here right about-

"Hello, James."

The throaty voice made me tear my attention from my glass to the satin-clad goddess in front of me. Her voluptuous figure was clad in ruby-red fabric that clung to her curves like a second skin, molding her hourglass body. Hair spun like black silk spilled across her long neck to graze her hips, and her lips, painted crimson, were curved into an alluring smile.

"Ha...hel..."

"It's a pleasure to meet you too," she murmured, her voice velvety as she offered a delicate hand. I shook it, heart thumping wildly as she took a seat across from me. Her skin was soft. "So, James," she leaned forward, lashed eyes gleaming, "what made you create that profile?"

"What profile?" I mumbled dumbly. My mind was barely functioning.

"The dating app profile, silly," a laugh spilled from her lips as she gestured for a glass of wine. "Men like you always have backstories." 

"My backstory is pretty boring," I said truthfully before taking a heavy gulp of my whiskey and letting the golden liquid play dangerously with my mind. I attempted a flirty grin, "I bet yours isn't."

The faintest hint of annoyance flicked through her eyes. "My backstory is a little more interesting..." she took a sip of the wine that had appeared out of nowhere. I watched in an intoxicated daze as she swallowed before wetting her lips with her tongue. "I play all day and play more all night," she whispered. "I live a life of mystery and love so careless all men want is to...throw it...away," she said softly as she ran a red-tipped finger along the glass rim. The dark red liquid sloshed as she raised it to her lips again.

Silence bestowed upon us as the fluffy haired singer continued to drawl out 80's music in her lazy voice. Before my common sense could reign in my sense of humor, I blurted out a joke.

"Are you, um, made of copper and tellurium?" At my words she looked up, lips curving into a coy smile. "Because you're CuTe."

A bubble of playful laughter erupted from that vermilion mouth as she laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind an ear. She smiled. "Dear me, James, where did that come from?"

"I'm a chemistry professor; I told you this last week," I admitted sheepishly, my cheeks hot and probably a scarlet close to her dress.

Her eyes flickered momentarily before she resumed a flirtatious smirk. "Oh yes of course, Professor," she whispered before taking another sip of her drink. Soon the footfalls of the waiter alerted us to his presence and the man gave us a smile. "Anything else, gentleman and milady?"

"Some roasted peanuts please," I ordered and immediately shook my head when she made to dig around in her black clutch. "It's on me, sweetie."

Pink blush tickled her cheeks as she zipped up her purse again. "Thank you, James," She murmured. I offered her an awkward smile as I pulled out my wallet and handed the waiter some cash, before placing it onto the table.

As a slow, sleazy song started playing, she took another sip of her wine as she played with her fingers. Suddenly her thumb slipped, causing a silver ring to slip off and clatter to the floor in a tinkling crash.

"I'll get it!" I hastily offered, getting onto my knees before grabbing the ring from where it lay by her black high heel. She took it from my palm with her scarlet lips twisted in a smile. She then stretched and got up. 

"I need to use the little ladies' room," she said, flicking her lustrous hair over a shoulder. She offered me a sweet smile. "Back soon."

Her heels click-clacked off into the rosy distance as the light washed her pink. Suddenly a woman in a blue low-cut dress and blonde wavy hair rushed up to me. "I'm so sorry for the delay, James, traffic was terrible," she sighed and offered me a pudgy hand. "I'm Daniella DeLane, such a pleasure to finally meet you!"

The low drawl of the singer turned into pale notes in my ears as I blinked, completely confused. "What? But I was just sitting with-"

I stopped speaking, my tongue heavy in my mouth as I sighed; I'd never asked the woman in red for her name.

"James?" The blue clad woman- Daniella- asked in a concerned voice. "You alright there hun?"

"Peachy," I responded blankly as I noticed the table surface was strangely bare - no sign of a battered leather wallet. "Just peachy."

F I N 

-one of my homework entries :)