Page 40 of Waiting For Fate

As always, Jackson was at my house to pick me up at five minutes ‘til six. He’s nothing if not punctual, I'll give him that. When we pulled up to the steakhouse, I felt a little underdressed but seeing as how he’s still in the same khakis and sweater he wore to school today, maybe I’m just overthinking it.

“Good evening, I’m Michael and I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get you started with?” I’ve barely picked up my menu when I spot the photo of a raspberry margarita front and center.

“I’ll take the raspberry margarita, on the rocks, with a sugared rim.” I smile politely at the waiter, earning an unsolicited wink from him that makes me grimace.

“A woman that knows what she wants, I like it.” His gaze lingers on me a little longer until Jackson starts to order and snags his attention.

“I’ll have a beer. Whatever is on draft. Oh, and can we get some fried pickles?” Jackson wags his eyebrows at me as the waiter nods and walks off.

“That was weird…” I lean over the table, watching as Jackson looks around cluelessly.

“What was weird?” My brows knit together and I’m shocked that he didn’t pick up on the inappropriate way the waiter was just looking at me.

“No, maybe it was nothing.” I shake my head. “Nevermind.” He smiles at me and changes the subject as I see our waiter out of the corner of my eye staring at me from across the room.

Why don’t you focus a little less on me and a little more on getting my tequila to this table, Michael.

“I mean even you know that no one wants to be paired with Janice for that.” I look over at Jackson, completely lost as to what the hell he’s talking about because the gaze that’s settled on me from across the restaurant is making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

“Here we are, fried pickles, one raspberry margarita, and a Coors on draft. Are we ready to order?” Jackson orders his food first, but as soon as he’s done the waiter turns to me and I’m immediately uncomfortable again. His gaze falls from my face to what is very obviously my chest, before giving me a suggestive look that makes my lunch threaten to make a second appearance today. I manage to get my order in without asking him what the hell his problem is, but as soon as he’s gone again, I contemplate asking for a different server.

Throughout the rest of our dinner any time the waiter checks on us, his focus is primarily on me. I begin to ignore him completely, trying to get the point across that I’m uninterested, but when he asks us about dessert and calls me sweetheart right in front of Jackson, I snap. I let my fork clatter onto my plate and level him with a stare.

“None for me. I’m quite ready to get the hell out of here, thanks.” The chill to my tone surprises even me, but even that doesn’t seem to get the point across. He simply offers to get our check for us and retreats to do just that, but not before giving me yet another wink.

Does this guy have a twitch or something? What the hell is wrong with him?

Jackson must finally pick up on the fact that this guy is bothering me, because he glances over his shoulder then back at me and shrugs.

“Ah, I see what you were talking about. Of course he’s checking you out though, you’re beautiful.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his, giving me a reassuring smile.

“Yeah well, he should cut it out. Plus, he’s doing it right in front of you. Like, hello, we’re clearly on a date.” I roll my eyes and see his brows draw together in confusion.

“Should I say something to him? Do you want me to?”

Is he serious? The date is literally over at this point. Why even bother?

My mouth pops open before I quickly snap it shut again, offering him a soft smile instead.

“No, don’t worry about it. Excuse me a minute, I’m just gonna use the ladies’ room.” As soon as my back is to him my face morphs into utter disbelief.

He literally couldn't care less that this guy is practically looking down my shirt and flirting with me right in front of him during the entirety of our date. It’s not like I want him to stand up and clock him or anything but like…he should care, right?

Well, there’s only one reliable source to get that answer from. The counsel.

I pull my phone out of my clutch and open the group chat, typing as quickly as my thumbs will let me.

Me

Hypothetically speaking, what would your husbands do if a waiter was not no subtly checking you out and flirting with you while you were on a date?

Shane

Not so subtly meaning????

Me

Practically losing his eyeballs down my shirt while I ordered. Calling me sweetheart and winking at me so much I’m beginning to wonder if it’s a nervous tick.

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