The Third Date 01: Clueless of Cotham

Dearest potential readers

This is a long, slow story, focussed on flirtation and friendship. This part is all about character development. Sexy moments come at the end of Part 2, so if you're after a short, hot sex scene perhaps look elsewhere. I won't mind, honestly. However, if you like the slow-burn and the build up of feelings and tension, this may be for you.

A massive thank you to KES and the incredible Broken Spokes for their feedback and guidance. Both have made this a better story than it was. All remaining errors or flaws are entirely my fault. I hadn't meant for it to be in two parts, but the file was too large for me to upload it in one go. Part 2 is written and ready to go.

If you do make it to the end, any feedback would be gratefully received.

All characters are over 18 and bear no resemblance to real people (with the exception of the band This Is The Kit, who you should all listen to).

Happy reading.

T

The third date

Priya

He was late. At least he'd texted to apologise. Sudden deadline apparently. Still, this was not a good look for a first date. I mean, it didn't bode well for any future relationship (though this was obviously getting ahead of myself) if I was going to always come second to work. Not my idea of an equal and balanced relationship!

Ha! As if I even knew what that looked like.

Serves me right for losing the bet. The worst thing was if this didn't work out I'd have to go through two more. Jenny had got fed up with Nadine and Melissa moaning about their single status and somehow got us all to agree that the loser of the game of Rummikub we were playing would have to let the other three set them up on a date (it was a given that she, close to celebrating a year with Tom, would not be the loser). And somehow, despite me being the least vocal, I had ended up losing. So here I was.

I wish I'd brought a book. My mobile battery was getting low and I didn't want to run it down reading the paper. It was 20 minutes after our set time now, and I was one glass of wine down and starting to get hungry. I was also starting to feel rather exposed: I'd chosen a rather central table, thinking it would make it easier for him to spot me, but now it meant my solo status was on full display in juxtaposition to all the cosy couples and relaxed groups around me.

"Excuse me," I asked the tall waitress with the eyebrow piercing who had served me before.

"Can I get you another?" she asked.

"No... I mean yes, thanks, but actually.... my date is running late and I'm feeling a bit awkward sitting here..."

"Of course! Got you. Give me one sec."

Two strides of her long legs and she was behind the bar. She flipped up a glass, grabbed a bottle out of the ice bucket and poured dexterously with her left hand while her right flew over the touch-screen till. I was slightly agape. I hadn't finished: had she really understood me that quickly?

"Right, I've switched you to one of our booths by the back. More romantic anyway!" Oh, so she had! She gently pulled back my chair for me and then motioned for me to precede her. "Number 23."

"This one?"

"Yes. Here's your wine," she said as I slipped onto the cushioned bench facing the bar and door.

"Thank you," I said.

"Anything else I can get you? Some snacks?"

"That's very tempting.... But no I probably shouldn't."

"Ok. Gimme a wave if you need anything. Hope you don't have to wait much longer."

"Me too! Thanks again."

She lingered a beat with her bright blue eyes on me, then turned and smoothly moved away, snagging my empty and polishing my former table in one fluid flourish. I watched as she stuck it on the bar then, seeming to see the signal for service before it was even made, eased up to a table of six, her touchscreen order pad appearing in her hands almost like magic.

For the want of anything better to do, I watched her over the next few minutes as she weaved with economy and efficiency through the Lounge's eat-in area, occasionally popping behind the bar to fetch drinks or pulling food from the serving hatch. She was so effortless in her movements as her Converse navigated her around the room, it was like watching a dancer. I wondered idly what it would be like going clubbing with her. None of my friends seemed to share my enthusiasm for putting in serious time on the dancefloor, preferring to flit in and out, but looking at the grace of her lithe frame I could imagine her dancing until dawn.

My phone buzzed. The battery was down to 11% but I had another message:

So, so, sorry. Nearly done. Should be there in 20.

Great! Not. I wondered whether to give this up for the waste of time it clearly was. Maybe I'd just finish the wine and go.

Kate:

Was she checking me out? I swear her eyes were following me as I moved.

She was gorgeous: petite, curvy, full breasted with silky dark hair. She could totally be my type. I'd love to tangle my fingers in that hair while guiding those gorgeous lips over my body. Mmmmmm. I wondered if her date would be male or female? I'd seen her in here before, but only with women, but that didn't mean anything at all apart from the fact she was probably local.

She was looking at me again. I locked eyes with her and raised an eyebrow inquiringly, while holding up the wine bottle. She shook her head in negation and seemed embarrassed at being caught staring.

She was too cute.

Hmmm, what to do? I could talk to her a little and see if I got a hit on my gaydar, then maybe give her my number.

I looked around the bar. It was relatively quiet and we were, frankly, overstaffed. Sarah was just leaning on the bar doing not very much. I made a decision, and quickly rang through an order of veggie nachos which I knew would be ready in next to no time and paid for them.

"Sarah, will you be ok for 10 minutes if I get something to eat? I skipped dinner and there's a friend of mine here."

Not waiting for her to answer, I did a pass around the tables and checked all was ok, clearing some empty plates. As I dropped them in the kitchen, the nachos were just being plated up.

Time to find out.

Priya:

I ought to just pay my tab and go.

As I pulled out my phone to text Tim my-would-be-but-will-not-be date to cancel, it buzzed.

Sry leave now I be there asap

Hmmm. Not wild about the bad grammar. Two strikes already. Oh well, might as well wait now.

"Mind if I join you?"

I glanced up to see the blue-eyed waitress sliding into the seat opposite me, as she deposited a plate of veggie nachos between us.

"Um...." I struggled to reply.

"I'm on a break for the next 15 minutes. I figured, I'd sit with you and spare you looking like... well... a spare," she explained. "If that's ok with you..." she finished, raising that pierced eyebrow.

"Umm... sure? I guess...." Wow, that was thoughtful of her.

"You don't seem sure.... Look, I'll go as soon as your date gets here."

"No, I mean, yes, thanks, that's kind." I was actually touched: it was so lovely to think that people could just do random acts of kindness with no ulterior motive.

"You're welcome. Have some nachos: they're veggie."

"Oh I couldn't," I protested.

"No, please, I won't be able to eat them all. I'm Kate by the way," she proffered her hand.

"Priya," I said, taking her long, strong fingers in mine. "Thank you. Actually, I'm starving, so if you're sure....?"

"Please, tuck in. The guacamole is super fresh."

Slathered in sour cream, guacamole and refried beans, they weren't the daintiest thing to eat, but we dug in. They were delicious.

"So, meeting anyone special?" she asked.

"Well, probably not. I lost a bet."

"Oh yeah - this sounds like a story! Do tell."

"Well, I lost a game of Rummikub, and now my flatmates all get to set me up on a blind date each. I've got to go on three!"

"Ha ha! That's brilliant. I love Rummikub."

"So do I.... normally! Anyway, this one is one of Melissa's colleagues. He's called Tim, he's a solicitor. I think I remember him from a gig but... I'm not hopeful. Bad grammar on his last text. Total red flag."

"So true. Apostrophes all the way."

"Yes! Oh my God, so nice to meet somebody who appreciates punctuation."

"It can save your life: commas are the difference between "Let's eat, Grandma" and "Let's eat Grandma!""

I laughed. I'd heard that one before, but she told it well.

"So you don't have high hopes then?" she asked.

"Not really. Truth is, my romantic history is embarrassingly awful," I found myself saying, sort of surprised to be so candid. "I love romance novels, and I'd love to find that. Maybe it's me, or maybe it's fate telling me to wait, but nobody I've met has sparked anything in me. I thought I'd found somebody a couple of times... but, nah." I thought about the boys whose dance floor moves had never transferred to bedroom passion. Dancing got me in the mood easily. "To be honest, it's kind of a relief to let the girls pick people for me. I really have crappy taste: three times I've ended up with gay guys!"

"Er... how? You're obviously all woman!"

"Um, thanks! Well, the first was Jordan. We were like the only two in our friendship group that didn't have partners so we just... kind of... fell into it so as to not be spares. Crappy reason I know. He claims he didn't know he was gay at the time: he only came out at Uni. Still, it's no wonder we'd only actually had sex six times the entire nine months we went out."

"Christ on a bike! Six times! That would be a normal week for me with my ex," she said.

I gaped.

"Oh that's cute. Sorry, does that shock you?" She raised her pierced eyebrow at me quizzically. That was a cool look, it suited her.

"A little. I guess. Lucky you."

"Well, not so much now. I've been single for a good few months, and starting to feel it. How long has it been for you?"

"Oh, I don't know. Two years, maybe?"

Her eyebrows went through the roof.

"It's not an issue. I find my fulfilment elsewhere." I found myself blushing, and about to admit more than I wanted. I quickly covered. "I love my job."

"What do you do?"

"I do soundtrack work for films and TV shows."

"Really? Wow! Anything I might have seen."

"Um. I did part of the soundtrack for the latest Attenborough."

"You're kidding? That's amazing!"

"Yeah," I blushed, "I mean, my boss did most of it. But I had over an hour's worth of sound across the whole series soundtrack. The bit with the puffins..."

"Oh yeah! That was the viral video, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Oh my God, you're practically a celebrity! How did you land that job?"

"Bar work!"

"Huh?"

"Well, I worked as a barmaid over in Clifton while I was an undergrad. One of the regulars, Paul, was... well, he still is... a BAFTA winning sound artist and editor. By sheer fluke, he was showing a video I'd scored to a friend, praising the soundtrack. I got up the courage to tell him I'd done it, and that it meant a lot hearing he'd liked it. He then invited me to come and do some work experience with him, which led to a part-time job, and now I'm there full time. It's great because I love music and playing, but I hate playing live. But this way I get to play with sound all day. It's wonderful."

"Wow! Well, well done you for taking the initiative. It's amazing how many great opportunities come to bar workers!" she said, flashing me an odd smile I didn't quite know how to interpret.

I scooped out some more of the guacamole. It was delicious.

"How'd you know I was veggie?"

"I remembered. You came in with some friends a couple of weeks ago. Three girls."

"Oh yeah. My housemates. Wow! I'm amazed you remember."

"Ah, yeah, odd things lodge in my brain sometimes."

"Funny, because, and I realise this sounds bad, but I don't think I've seen you in here before. I mean I'm in here at least 3 times a week for coffee and I live just down the road and I'm sure I'd remember you. I mean I was watching you," I gulped, "sorry, that sounds creepy!" I blushed.

She smiled and looked down momentarily, allowing me to recover. "Anyway, I haven't really noticed you before."

"I only work Tuesday and Thursday evenings, and the occasional cover shift. This isn't my main job."

"Oh, what do you do?" I asked, nacho midway to my mouth.

"I'm curing cancer," she replied.

The next minute was pretty embarrassing, as I tried to first spit out my nacho, then not do that, then try to avoid choking on it. She was quickly out of her seat, first thumping me on the back, then gently rubbing me there as I rather ungracefully ended up spitting out some half chewed nacho into a paper napkin she proffered me. Eyes watering, I took a sip of wine.

"Well, that's a new reaction!" she laughed as she sat back down.

"Sorry, I'm mortified, can we pretend that never happened please!?"

"Sure thing. I'll get the boss to wipe the security cameras later."

"What!?"

"Just kidding! Er.... you've got a little something..." she pointed to my face.

"What?"

"Some cream cheese just..."

I dabbed at my face with a paper napkin. "Did I get it?"

"No, up a bit..."

"Now?"

"No, here let me..." She lent over and gently brushed my upper cheekbone by my right ear with her napkin. I caught a waft of vanilla as I shivered a little and her touch raised goosebumps down my arms.

My phone buzzed.

Shaking myself, I glanced down.

Sry traffic still 10 mins

"Is your date here?" she asked, leaning back, and glancing around. There was suddenly an odd tension in the air.

"No," then, realising I'd mostly been talking about myself, I smiled across at her. "So, you were telling me how you were curing cancer."

"Oh, it's not that exciting."

Turns out she was a total brainiac. She'd not long finished her PhD, and had secured a postdoc fellowship here in Bristol researching the impact of varying chemical concentrations on melanoma cells. She managed to explain it to me, without being patronising, which made a very refreshing change from all the mansplaining I was used to from my Uni boyfriend (he'd been a Physicist). She only worked in the bar to have people to talk to.

"I love the Science, but I work on my own: the co-authors of the paper I'm writing are in different time zones, so I can go days without speaking to people, just taking data from a hundred pipettes and petri dishes. It gets quite dull. I didn't study in Bristol, so working here was a way to get to know people and make friends. Now, I just do it for fun."

"Where did you go?"

"Cambridge, Newnham."

"Wow, so you're super smart!"

She blushed, which I found myself liking. I appreciated that she was a bit humble. "Not going to pretend I don't have game in the brain department. Anyway, so I work here because I get to talk to people," she continued, giving me an odd look.

"Well, you smash the Science geek stereotype out of the water," I said.

"How do you mean?" She seemed puzzled.

"Just look at you. You're tall, fit, clever and seem so confident. You're like pixie-cut Penny with Sheldon's brain."

She blushed again. "Sheldon was a Physicist," she muttered, taking a sip of her drink.

My phone buzzed. I ignored it.

"You not going to get that?"

"I felt rude earlier looking at it while we were talking. I hate it when people do that to me."

"I don't mind. I'm the one gatecrashing your date!"

"Hmph. I have a feeling you may be the best thing about my date."

She blushed again. It made me feel odd. I took another sip of wine.

"In fact I was thinking I might just go once your break is over."

"Well, sadly, that's coming up on now."

"Aww."

"Yeah. Lovely chatting to you Priya. Maybe see you in here again?" she said, rising to her feet.

"Yeah. That would be nice. Thanks for keeping me company. Tuesdays and Thursdays, right?"

"Yeah, usually." She picked up her glass and our now empty nachos bowl.

The door opened, and a paunchy man with a scraggly chinstrap beard came in. His eyes scanned the room and then homed in on me. Tim.

"Hi. Priya, right?"

What? He was the one who'd wanted the date, pestering Melissa to set it up. I was the only woman of Asian origin in the room, and he still wasn't sure if it was me or not.

"Yes."

"So sorry I'm late... I'll take a beer please."

This said to Kate, who was still standing beside the table. He hadn't really looked at her and had sat straight down. For some reason I was annoyed on her behalf, though that was strange, seeing as she was a waitress.

She was coolly professional. "Of course. I'll grab you some menus too."

The date was a dud. He was boring, talking endlessly about the case he was working on, himself, his family. He barely asked about me, and turned everything back to him. There were so many red flags they were breeding. He was completely egocentric, not even noticing when I giggled because Kate had caught my eye with a grimace on her face as she served the table behind.

I turned down his offer of coffee, pleading an early start the next day. He had the cheek to seem offended, even suggesting I should reschedule, when he'd been over 50 minutes late himself! If he hadn't been a colleague of my housemate Melissa I would have just walked out, but I didn't want to cause her problems at work. He insisted he'd walk me home, as much as I would have really rathered he didn't. At least home was only 50 metres away. The advantages of dating on home turf.

As we got to the bar door I asked him just to wait a moment. I looked around for Kate, and seeing her paused by the bar watching me, I grinned and walked over.

"Thanks so much for earlier," I said to her, "meeting you was the best thing about this date!"

A blush spread across her pale cheeks along with a brilliant, wide smile. I smiled back easily.

"You're welcome," she said, "don't be a stranger."

"I won't. I'd better go though. Thanks again Kate."

"Bye, Priya."

Feeling slightly let down, which I put down to Tim waiting impatiently (oh, the gall of it!) by the door, I turned away, feeling her eyes watching me. For some reason that made me feel a little lighter. It was always nice to make a new friend, I supposed.

Tim turned out to be hard to get rid of. I had zero interest, but didn't want to be rude for Melissa's sake, so tried flattering him, expressing my admiration for his dedication to his work while making it clear I had no interest in being a work-widow. Eventually, I managed to shut the door on him with a sigh of relief.

Making my way into the kitchen-cum-dining room, I found Jenny still up, laptop open on the table and piles of books around her. She looked frazzled, her blond hair pulled back into a tight ponytail meaning the bags under her eyes were clearly visible. She and I had been in Halls together and quickly bonded over books: she was now in her first year teaching English at a local comprehensive and was often up late trying to keep afloat in all the planning and marking that came with the job. The pressure on her was relentless and I don't know how she coped. Nadine and I tried to help out as much as we could by cooking for her and making her packed lunches during the week, but she was struggling.

"Hey," she said, looking up as I came in, "how was the date?"

"Awful," I said, "except for the waitress. She was awesome."

"Oh really?"

"What are you marking?" I asked, sitting down opposite her, and grabbing a pile of books, to try and change the subject. I didn't know why, but I suddenly felt uncomfortable. I flicked the first one open.

"Oh, that's Year 11. Pride and Prejudice essays. But you don't have to..."

"What!? You know it's my favourite. You'd deny me this? Give me the mark scheme!"

"No, Priya, come on, that's lovely of you, but..."