“Is something the matter?” he asked with a light furrow in his brow.
It was the perfect chance for her to speak up. Yet, seeing the worried look on his face, she couldn’t bring herself to.
“It’s fine,” she said with a small, tight smile.
Up until that point, she’d thought Adrien was like the perfect romantic. Aside from not picking her up, when they met, he’d offered her his arm. He’d led her to a restaurant where they already had a reservation. But there were a couple of red flags that made her cautious.
She knew the difference between her status and Adrien’s, too well, but that didn’t mean that she liked the fact that he dismissed her concerns, even if it was over something so little to him as the price. Then talking over her and ordering for her. While there were women who probably wouldn’t mind the latter, and it wasn’t like she’d be paying, but she was pretty picky about what she ate. What if she had allergies? He hadn’t even asked.
They started chatting lightly, but again and again, a familiar pattern started to emerge. They would be on a topic, and he would either listen to her opinion and completely deviate, or stop her in the middle of her thoughts. Camila would admit she sometimes tended to ramble, but it was still rude and she had to wonder if she should continue with the evening.
When the food arrived, she was mostly focusing on her food, though she was picking at it more than she was eating, as he continued to talk. And then, another red flag. A waiter was passing by with a tray holding water. It was meant for a table some feet away from theirs, but the waiter got distracted by something, and knocked into their table. The water in his tray sloshed a bit, but nothing spilled.
Adrien’s reaction was completely uncalled for. "Hey, asshole, watch where the fuck you’re going! I have a good mind to report you to the manager and have you fired! We don’t pay good money to be soaked by clumsy ass waiters!”
He’d practically given the man a verbal beat down, and the man walked away with his head ducked down, body trembling, and Camila thought she heard him sniffle. She decided she had to speak up. "Adrien, I think you were being a little harsh, don’t you? Maybe I should leave. I don’t think we are a good fit.” She set her napkin down and started to rise.
Adrien sighed and looked contrite as he grabbed her hand gently. “I’m sorry, I just wanted this to be perfect and romantic and he could have ruined that, but maybe, you’re right. I’ll take care of it. Please, stay. I promise to be a better date.” He smiled as Camila retook her seat, and then slipped from the table, walking over to the maître d'.
After a moment, the waiter returned and stood with them. Adrien turned and looked at Camilla, a smile on his face. When he’d finished, he came back to their table and his attitude seemed to return to the calm, cool and collected one he’d had before the little mishap with the waiter.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, sitting down and looking like a whipped puppy. “I have been working on my temper issues, but occasionally it gets the better of me.” He smiled, his expression hopeful, as he took Camila’s hand in his.
Camila felt a wave of understanding and empathy. Everyone had parts of their personality that they didn’t like and had to work. She knew she did. She decided not to let this one little incident ruin their evening. His eyes were so earnest and it took guts to admit he was wrong. Not to mention he’d gone to make it right with the maître d on the spot. Not a lot of men would do that. Certainly not her asshole of an ex.
“Alright,” she nodded. “I’ll give you another chance and stay.”
The planned date was a long one, and soon she was enjoying it again. Once they had finished eating, they walked around town a bit. Adrien seemed to be headed in a particular direction and she smiled when they arrived at one of the new dance clubs.
“Care to dance?” Adrien asked, a charming grin on his face as he gestured at the club doors.
There was an extensive line of people waiting to get in, but Camila thought it might be fun so she nodded. “Sure, should we get in line?”
Adrien chuckled. “No.” He walked with her to the bouncer, and said, “Kane.”
“Of course, Mr. Kane.” The bouncer moved the velvet rope and allowed them in.
Camila knew that his name opened doors, but she’d had no idea how truly powerful it was. They spent the rest of the evening dancing, drinking, and having a really good time. Adrien was attentive and sexy, making sure she had a wonderful evening.
She was enjoying herself so much that she got distracted and didn’t realize just how late it was until the band started packing up their equipment. At the end of their evening—or should she say morning—Adrien hailed her a cab and sent her home with a kiss on the cheek.
The next day, he called her out for another date. She hesitated on the phone, thinking of the few minor issues at the beginning of their date. But then she remembered how good it had felt to dance and laugh and to just have fun. God, how long had it been since she’d just let loose and had fun?
So she agreed to a second date. And for the next one, and the next one. Until it was the second Friday, and Camila was starting to rethink her decision.
She wouldn’t say she was regretting it exactly, because Adrien certainly had his shining moments when he made her forget about everything else. But his little habits of talking over her and rude outbursts hadn’t changed, even when she spoke up about it.
They were seated at a different restaurant, because it was never the same place for each date.
Again though, he’d ordered for her, which was always irritating, but he didn’t seem to listen when she asked to order for herself.
“I promise you’ll enjoy it,” he said, patting her hand. She pursed her lips, annoyed, but Adrien didn’t notice.
And then, when the meal came to the table, Adrien found something wrong with it. “Does this look like what I ordered?” he berated the waiter. “I swear, you’re the most incompetent waiter on the planet! Take it back, and this time, make sure it is done as I specified!”
Camila cringed at his behavior. This wasn’t the first time he’d gone off on a service person, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last. His show of contrition on that first date appeared to have been just that—a show.
He looked at her, catching the expression on her face as the waiter left with his plate. “What?” he asked, a bit harshly. “It was over-cooked, Camila, can you blame me for sending it back?”