CHAPTER 8

 
 
Clarice was still fuming and a little
rattled when she approached the man holding the pink rose. As if
sensing she was approaching, he stood and tugged his shirtsleeves
into place, then glanced at her and smiled. It looked like she
wasn’t the only one who was nervous after all.
“Clarice?” he asked, unsure whether she was
the same as his match on the dating site.
“Yes.” She tried mustering up a smile, but
her emotions were still boiling from her encounter with that
Casanova near the restroom, and all she could achieve was a slight
slant of her lips. And speaking of Casanova, she spotted him right
near their table, his eyes following her closely.
Blast! She should’ve known he would
be dining here too. Feeling his eyes boring straight at her, she
reverted hers to the man sitting before her.
But how did he get to his seat so
quickly? Clarice’s thoughts drifted back to Hunter again.
Clarice, shut up and look at the man in front of you
now!
Hunter, on the other hand, couldn’t believe
the woman he named Avocado was actually the young man’s date. This
wasn’t good at all. Somehow he felt a little irritated.
Clarice was busy eyeing the young man in
front of her, still holding the pink rose, unsure of what to
do.
Up close, the man was pleasantly handsome,
but nothing that made her heart jump like that Casanova over
there.
Stop it, Clarice. Stop thinking like this at
once. You are here to see this nice man. Talk to him. Now!
“Sorry for the wait. I got waylaid coming
here,” she said, hoping her heart would calm down a bit.
“Oh, it’s all right. I was just enjoying the
view outside.” He smiled at her. “Oh, here, your rose,” the man
said, handing the bloom to her.
“Thank you.” She smiled. He seemed nice.
“Here, have a seat.” The man moved to her
side and pulled out the chair for her. Oh, how sweet, she
thought. Such a gentleman. One brownie point for my
date.
“The view is very beautiful at this time of
evening, don’t you think?” he asked, flashing his pearly white
teeth at her.
She mentally increased his score. A man that
showed emotion definitely deserved another point. Plus, those clean
white teeth warranted extra credit. She couldn’t imagine dating a
man with bad oral hygiene, let alone asking for his sperm.
She was quite pleased with the turn of
events, actually. The man was almost halfway there already. Just
three more points to go to fit her criteria, and then she’d ask him
for his sperm. Just perfect.
“Hello. Welcome. Have you decided on what
you would like to order yet?”
Clarice looked up to see the waitress
holding a pad of paper and pen in her hand. She smiled at her, then
turned to look at the young man—
Chocolate chippy, she forgot his name. It
was in the profile on her laptop. Why couldn’t she remember? What
was it? Hunter, was it Hunter? Wait, that was that Casanova’s
name.
Why did she remember Hunter’s name and not
this handsome man’s? Useless, Clarice, useless. How are
you going to find the perfect genes for your baby if you can’t even
remember the guy’s name? And here you have the gift of memory,
recalling all your patients’ names even when they’ve told you only
once. How disgraceful, she yelled at herself.
Oh, just shut up. She told herself
off. You’re driving me crazy.
“It’s Darcy,” the man said when he saw her
expression that literally translated to, What was your name
again? Because I forgot it already, even when I had just read your
profile last night. “My name is Darcy.”
Oh, how polite. How adorable. Four points
now. Maybe she could have a future with him after all.
They talked about this and that. He was
twenty-three. A seven-year difference, but they say love holds no
barrier. Plus, Casanova did say she looked nothing over twenty. At
least until she proved her true age. She hoped this wouldn’t be the
case for this lovely young man here.
They also talked about his hobbies.
Apparently, he was just freshly out of university, gaining a
bachelor’s degree in journalism at Massey University in Wellington.
He was currently looking for a job, but hadn’t found the right one
yet. So at present, he was working as a librarian, since he loved
books so much, just like her. Ding! Ding! Ding! Another big
thing in common. She could brag all day about Agatha Christie, her
favourite mystery author, or Alexia Praks, her favourite romance
author. She could see they could get along quite well together in
the future.
Clarice was having so much fun dining with
Darcy that she almost didn’t hear the sudden screeching of a chair
being pushed back from across the dining room. When she turned to
look at the sudden commotion, she saw that Casanova had deserted
the woman across the table from him and was now stalking towards
her, his face a brewing storm about to erupt.
Clarice felt sorry for the girl, getting
ditched like that. She must be so sad and embarrassed by that
Casanova’s actions. Her eyes were fully concentrated on examining
the tablecloth, as if she were looking for staining. But then
again, she felt a little relief because at least the girl didn’t
fall prey to Casanova’s charm, unlike most women.
Clarice was about to breathe a sigh of
relief when Hunter stopped right at their table. Her body went
rigid and she became aware of every single particle in her form.
She felt him leaning in close to her, and not a breadth of hair was
separating them when he spoke.
“Have fun, Avocado,” he whispered huskily
into her ear, making the hair at the back of her neck stand up and
the nerves along her spine tingle. Then he strode past her, leaving
her mouth gaping open, while Darcy just looked confused at the
whole scene played in front of him.
“Avocado?” Darcy asked. “Do you know
him?”
That beast of a Casanova, Clarice
thought. How dare he embarrass her in front of her future partner?
If she saw him again, he was going to get a taste of her medicine.
Give him a shot of the strong local anesthetic to make sure he
wouldn’t be able to talk. That would serve him right for being a
smart mouth.
“Ahh, no, not at all. I don’t know him at
all.” Clarice tried to deny the truth.
Well, it was the truth. She really didn’t
know him. They’d only just met, even though it was three times in
the span of a few weeks. But that still made them strangers. She
didn’t know anything else about him apart from his name and that he
was a playboy.
“Oh, I thought he was a boyfriend or
something, the way he was whispering in your ear and all that,”
Darcy remarked leisurely, then returned to his plate of Cambodian
pancakes.
Clarice almost choked on her rice rolls. How
could Darcy think he was her boyfriend? She would rather have all
her teeth extracted without anesthetic than be called that
Casanova’s girlfriend. Yes, she did admit he had attracted her in
the beginning with the whole towel thing, but when she heard the
first word that came out of his mouth, she had sworn him off. She
and Hunter did not belong in the same sentence.
“He must have saw us enjoying ourselves,
whereas his date didn’t go so well,” she stated firmly.
“I guess so,” Darcy said, then went back to
his meal.
Thank the Lord, because after this event,
everything went back to normal again. Darcy questioned her about
her occupation. She told him she was a periodontist. Darcy didn’t
know what kind of profession that was, so she had to explain to
him. Then he said he hadn’t had a professional cleaning since he
arrived here in Auckland. They even had a bit of a laugh about
flossing and interdental cleaning.
Everything was great, Clarice thought as she
dug into her char noodles, savoring the flavor as she bit into
them. Darcy was nice; the restaurant was nice; everything was nice.
She couldn’t ask for a more perfect date. Just then, her phone
rang. Must be Max trying to keep a tab on me.
Clarice dug into her bag, trying to retrieve
her phone hidden among the other junk. Her hand landed on her
driver’s license. Meaning to put it in her wallet again, she placed
it out on the table and continued to search through her bag, when
an outcry from her date startled her, making her head jerk up to
look at him.
Darcy jerked up off his chair like a fire
had been lit up his butt. He started pulling on his jacket, then
slammed a fifty-dollar note on the table.
“Do you need to be somewhere else? You look
like you’re in a hurry,” Clarice asked, quite concerned when Darcy
started acting so strange. It didn’t make sense. They got along
just fine a few minutes ago. What changed?
“Sorry, I have this rule. I don’t date any
woman older than me.” Darcy said while placing his wallet back in
his pocket.
“What?” Clarice burst out, jumping from her
chair, shocked that he would say something like that.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this. I
should have ticked the age range group in the survey. I wasn’t
aware the system would pair me up with you. Look, I’m sorry. But I
can’t date you. I have to go now,” Darcy said, and then he left,
just like that.
One minute he was here and the next
gone.
Poor Clarice sat back down in the chair
while everyone eyed her. And here she had felt sorry for that girl
that Casanova had left behind not half an hour ago, when she
herself was now in the same boat.
Argh, all men are the same. Clarice
wanted to scream. First that Hunter guy and now Darcy. Jerks and
Casanovas. I wish I would never see them again.
And then she saw her driver’s license. So
that was the cause of all the commotion. Her driver’s license
again. Oh, how pathetic can life get? Clarice finished her
meal, gloomily staring at her ID.
Thirty, still single, and she’d just gotten
ditched on her first date.