Miss Denmark

weekend plans

I had brought all my stuff because I wasn't sure if I would be working late. It was nice to be prepared. A book and a notebook didn't weigh tons in my bag anyways.

I finished up on some graphic work and went to the elevators around lunch.

Juan was meeting Cara, and Trisha was having lunch with Will, who stepped out as I stepped into the elevator.

I pushed the button and waited.

The first one to arrive went down.

I took a step back, arms loosely crossed.

Alexander stepped out of the elevator. Charcoal gray suit, and a vest, and went directly for me.

"We'll eat out," he said.

"Okay? I'll get my..."

"I pay," he said. "I want to."

I wasn't sure.

"I really want to, Christina," he said softly. "Just let me, please."

I sighed quietly and nodded. "Okay," I acquiesced.

He led me to the elevator where Jazz waited, and we went to the reception.

At some point during my long morning I'd been considering his proposal the following Saturday.

"I want to help you Saturday," I said.

Alexander looked at me, surprised more than anything.

"Yes, I'm sure," I said.

He smiled a crooked smile. "Jazz'll pick you up so you're at my flat at ten."

I sighed. Deeply. "No," I said. "I'll get there myself, but I'll be there by ten."

Alexander was glowering at me.

"Forget it," I said. We were actually walking towards the place he'd picked, I figured we'd be standing still, arguing. "You can inform me on the time and tell me when I'll be there, but I'll get there myself, when you want to dictate I have to be picked up."

"If I'd asked if Jazz were to pick you up, would that have changed your answer?" he asked.

"I would probably still want to walk," I admitted. "But it's nice to get the chance to decide myself."

He put his hands in his pants pockets. "We're going in here," he said and stopped at a restaurant which looked to be a tad more expensive than where I usually went.

"O-kay?" I said, drawing on the O.

He opened the door for me, his hands no longer in his pockets.

Hesitantly I entered before him. My clothes didn't feel nice enough. I wore a dress. Just a black dress I'd bought in H&M, but which seemed fine for working purposes. And then flats, nylons and a cardigan.

Alexander put his hand on my back and led me further into the restaurant.

The waitress wore shirt and black pants. "Mr. Greene," she smiled. "The table is this way." She turned around and led us to a table in the corner of the restaurant.