Jannah
Remind me why exactly I agreed to go on a date with Clinton Steele? I mean, it's enough that he dumped me in Mexico-coupled with the fact that, by my standards, he's an A-grade loser-but somehow, I said yes. I agreed to hear whatever low-effort apology he was willing to toss my way.
What exactly was I thinking?
By the time I realized what was going on, it was too late-actually, I found out two hours ago when he texted to remind me that I still hadn't picked a venue for our date. My eyes must've been plastered to the screen of my phone for close to five minutes, in silence of course, with my mouth agape. You get the whole picture.
As the opportunist I can be-and as my own form of revenge-I picked the most booked and expensive Thai restaurant in town that Kait and I have been trying for months to get a reservation at. That'll give him something to work about, even though I'm pretty sure it'll take him a single call to make a reservation, and the bill won't leave him as regretful as I want. Nevertheless, it's something, alright.
If he hadn't been such a liar, I might have put in more effort into my appearance. But I don't-mainly because there's barely any time, and also because I don't want to appear eager. It's bad enough I'm too embarrassed to even tell Kait about today's date, talk less of glamming up for him.
I manage to pull off a barely-there makeup look and slip into one of my designer dresses. Note: I'm wearing it so I don't feel worse about showing up to a five-star restaurant looking like I shop at Goodwill.
"Okay. Let's do this." I give one last look at my deep brown midi slip dress and let out a deep sigh.
********
I don't think I've ever been this nervous in my life. Because why the hell am I hyperventilating in the backseat of a Bentley? Get a grip, Jannah-I scold myself.
Maybe it's because he's so damn close to me and I can practically feel his cologne shoved up my nose. It's quite different from the fragrance he used in Mexico-this one is harsher. Or maybe it's also because my brain won't stop replaying all the times we made out, even though he's seated barely seven inches from me-all broad muscles, toned body, model face, and sexiness-even though I prefer his Ethan aura.
I'm not exactly attracted to this Adonis beside me anymore, but I can't deny I'm a bit tempted to relive some of those Mexican memories.
Clinton, on the other hand, has been a cool potato-as he should, because he was fucking born with a what? Diamond spoon dipped in silver or whatever. But my hanky is already noticeably damp and the AC is on. I even have an arm lined with goosebumps, for God's sake.
"You okay?" Clinton faces me, his left brow slightly raised in concern.
"Mhm," I nod with a small smile and look away. I can still feel his gaze on me, lingering a few seconds longer than usual, like he hopes I'll come out plain and admit I'm nervous-but I'm a big girl. I don't budge.
When we arrive at the restaurant, I'm more than happy to get out of the backseat, and I open the door before the driver-who gives me a surprised look-gets the chance. I flash him a wobbly smile and remind myself to act less jumpy.
The restaurant is calm and softly lit, with warm golden lights casting a glow over sleek wooden panels and minimalist decor. There's a quiet elegance to everything-the perfectly folded napkins, the subtle scent of lemongrass, and the way the servers move like they're gliding. A small koi pond rests by the glass wall, just enough to remind you this place is way out of your league. And yeah, now I understand why Kait and I could never snag a reservation-it's the kind of place that makes exclusivity feel like an art form.
Clinton pulls out a chair for me, and luckily I don't embarrass myself by sitting before he finishes.
"It's beautiful here," I murmur, because the awkward silence is killing me and I don't know how to shut up sometimes.
"Yeah, the owner took his time with the architecture," Clinton says offhandedly, flipping through the pages of his menu. He looks every inch bored.
"You know the owner?" I say, more out of surprise than actual interest. And when the words tumble out like dirty clothes rolling out of a hamper, I realize how stupid I sound.
Of course he does .He's Clinton Steele. Of course.
"Yes. We used to play soccer together at Yale-quarterbacks. Have you tried the Thai-style oysters with caviar?" He lowers his menu and leans forward, pointing at the dish.
Ah, Yale. Such a rich people thing to say.
I squint, trying to make out the dish, and he hands it over to me. The moment my eyes fall on the two-figure price beside it, I understand why I haven't tasted it.
"Looks like this would be my first time," I hum.
"It's really amazing here. It's literally the best Thai oyster in LA, trust me."
Yeah, like I trusted you in Mexico. It's at the tip of my tongue, but instead of saying that, I just smile. The waiter comes, and because I haven't tasted like seventy percent of the stuff on the menu, I order the exact same thing he does.
"Chicken green curry and steamed jasmine rice."
Green curry? Something doesn't sit well. I rack my brain for some time trying to recall what exactly it is and when I don't , I skim through the ingredients, and that's when it dawns on me. Good Lord.
"Coconut milk. There's coconut milk in that," I say hurriedly, darting my gaze from the menu back to him.
Clinton's brows furrow, the lines on his forehead creasing deeply. His eyes take on a far-off look that makes me wonder what he could possibly be thinking.
How could he forget his own allergy? How does anyone forget their damn allergy? Slowly, his features soften and he flashes me a small, embarrassed smile, then clears his throat.
"Thank you, Jannah. I'll have the, um... steamed whole sea bass with garlic and chili sauce. With rice?" He pinches the bridge of his nose and nods at the waiter.
" Were you trying to appear in tomorrow's headlines ?" I take a slurp of my white wine and eye him slowly.
" Let's just say I have alot to think about and I wasn't being careful. My apologies,"his smile doesn't reach his eyes, and those same eyes won't meet mine. Oscar-worthy performance, really. I just can't tell what role he's playing this time.