2. Dinner Date Go Awry
Quarter to seven, Chase showed up at the Providence---the restaurant Jace had agreed to meet him earlier that morning. He had called ahead of time and reserved a table so he was seated almost right away upon arriving. His eyes widened with interest as his hostess sat him at a table near the windows and left him to wait for his guest. There, just the next table over was the babe he had met at Tiffany's that same afternoon.
She hadn't noticed him yet as her eyes were busily glued to her phone, but her presence was made known to every other male sitting in the room. Even the waiters---in the midst of their job---would steal glances at her from time to time. She was that gorgeous, with that Michelangelo sculpted body, high cheekbones, pouty lips, alluring eyes and those luscious brown curls that Chase was dying to sink his fingers into.
He found himself switching seats soon after so he could sit closer to her. "So we meet again," he said arrogantly and watched with amusement as she looked up and arched one fine eyebrow at him. "Are you stalking me?"
Again, she pretended he didn't exist and went back to whatever she was doing a moment before. The gesture suddenly made him wonder what kind of big shot her fiancé was for her to behave so impressively in front of another man. It wasn't like Chase was just good-looking; he was known to be good-looking---even amongst the stars that frequent L.A. What kind of female would outright ignore him besides the ones that flow the opposite way?
Noticing that she was sitting alone with her purse parked neatly on the chair beside hers, Chase hoped to God that she was waiting for her fiancé. He'd really like to take a good look at him and then use him as a verbal punch-bag because no matter how much of a big shot he is, one thing was for sure. He didn't deserve her. In fact, he was almost sure her fiancé was one of those fat, old guys in L.A who had nothing but cash on him.
He watched as a hostess brought two women to the babe's table and sighed in disappointment. So she was meeting friends---that would make it even harder to approach her than if she was with her fiancé. Girls in packs backing each other up are worst than PMS clubs.
Spinning around to face his own table, he drank a sip of water as he waited for Jace. It wasn't until a haughty female voice said, "Who is she? I thought you said this was our table?!"
Chase turned around and regarded the situation with mild interest. The hostess was picking through her notepad with a disturbed look on her face. "Excuse me Miss," she said to the babe. "I'm so incredibly sorry. So it happens that we have a minor mix up and this isn't the table you're supposed to be meeting your friends."
"Oh. Well, that's okay I guess." Smiling politely, she took her purse off the chair and got to her feet. "I don't like this table's location anyways," she said, shooting Chase a blank look before returning her attention back to the hostess. "Can you show me the proper table then?"
"Yes, of course! I'm sorry about that again." The hostess quickly gestured the other two females to take a seat before leading the babe directly in front of Chase's table. "This seems to be the correct one," she chirped. "The only other table reserved under 'Evans' tonight besides that one."
Chase raised a confused eyebrow at the babe before smirking playfully. "Wow. I didn't realize we made plans this afternoon," he joked. "Forgive me. I didn't bring you flowers."
She rolled her eyes at him before returning back to the hostess. "Please. There's got to be some sort of mistake," she said with a tantalizing foreign accent. "Can you check again? Please!"
All of a sudden, Chase's name was shouted across the room and he turned his head to see Jace gunning towards him. Tall, extremely scrawny, baby face Jace with a neat mop of muddy blonde hair that was a disgrace to all blondes---he hadn't changed much over the years.
|Arthur Sales||as Chase Evans|
|Nils Butler||as Seth Meyers|