I sat across from him at a candlelit table.
The restaurant was beautiful, not a place I had expected him to bring me. Not a five star place but somewhere in between with a natural, calming ambience. A place we could relax and be ourselves without eyes watching.
In high school, he was two classes ahead of me. We knew each other but never spoke. He was brilliant, confident and graduated valedictorian. Yet he appeared nervous and shy that evening.
The waiter had barely placed the menus before he apologised for the table, lighting, the food that had not arrived and even the restaurant.
I chuckled. “You don't have to apologise for this evening. I like it here.” He nodded, his gaze taking me in. I smiled and he visibly relaxed, exhaling.
When our food arrived, he had relaxed enough to tell me about his childhood and the disastrous camping trip that had ended with his tent squished flat beneath a fallen tree. That was his first time setting up a tent and his Dad promised not to help. He was fourteen.
I laughed so hard that I nearly knocked over my glass and his nervous smile slowly became a genuine one. That was when I understood what he had been afraid of. Not the restaurant or the food or saying the wrong thing…well, that one. But he was afraid that I would not like him.
He was quite the character in high school. The principal had threatened to expel him severally but his family's wealth always saved him. He thought I remembered those days though I only heard the stories later.
The food grew cold while we talked until the restaurant gradually emptied around us.
When it was time to leave, he held my hands and smiled. I became nervous because I already knew that I wanted there to be a second dinner followed by another, and another after that.
That was fifteen years ago. Ever since, every date night with him felt like it was our first dinner together.
I hope you enjoyed reading this short piece. It's inspired by the Freewrite #dailyprompt phrase "squished flat".
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