Jenlisa Oneshots

future tense

To Lisa's horror, light laughter joins in with the host's chuckle that's only gotten heartier, putting heat in her cheeks.

"I said that out loud, didn't I?"

Jennie's fuller smile confirms it, followed by, "Nice to meet you, future Mrs. Kim-Manoban," entertaining Lisa's flub with undeserved grace.

Correct identities somewhat ascertained, the host informs with a twinkle in his eyes, "Your waiter will be shortly with you. Enjoy your date," then retreats on a nod, a smile stretching to the corners of his bow tie.

Lisa watches his departing figure with mild despair as her backup support recedes from view. At the last minute, he gives her a reassuring head nod before turning the corner out of sight. On that encouragement, she finally takes a seat.

She chances a glance at her companion after sliding into the booth, only to find an interested gaze already studying her. Despite the dim lighting in this corner of the upscale French restaurant, the brown under the flutter of mascara-thick lashes seems more brilliant than a moment ago.

"Hi," Lisa manages after steadying her breathing.

"Hello," comes the soft reply. Jennie doesn't seem to have Lisa's same issue with voicing the greeting although the last syllable does waver a touch and gives Lisa comfort to know she's perhaps not alone in her jitters.

In search of an icebreaker to fill the brief silence that follows, she excuses, "Traffic was terrible, I hope you didn't wait long."

"I had company," Jennie says, raising her glass, and gives Lisa another smile, kind and warm and all manner of butterfly-inducing. They lock appraising looks for the longest minute before Jennie's gaze falls to the brown paper bag Lisa had placed on the table and promptly forgotten about, a reminder of the real reason she was late.

With care to avoid the bristles, Lisa removes the small potted plant and pushes the little guy in Jennie's direction.

"My local florist was out of fresh cut roses, so," Lisa starts to explain.

"Baby cactus it is." Jennie finishes for her, eyeing Lisa's derailed romantic gesture with sunny surprise. Smile grown in place.

"It was this or a three foot fern."

Jennie laughs. "You didn't have to but thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. He can be a bit of a prick."

The spark of warm laughter heats up Lisa's insides as if she had down the rest of Jennie's drink herself. The way her head tilts to the side re-emphasises very attractive features Lisa will not be able to fully appreciate until her heart slows to a healthy rate. Skinny chance that will happen any time soon seeing as Jennie's ease of presence, generally, and the beauty mark sitting above her upper lip, specifically, are making a mockery of Lisa's ability to play it cool.

Not to be outdone in overtures, it would seem, Jennie reaches for something in her purse.

"Yelp advised that this is a five-star restaurant where elegant dining and haute cuisine meets gastronomic experimentation that any Parisian grand-mère would approve au pif, by taste and intuition, in her house kitchen," Jennie quotes the apparent review, pitching her voice in feigned pretension. "But," she pulls out a card-size envelope, "in case the internet lied, here," and slides it across the table to Lisa.

"What's this?" Intrigued, Lisa peeks inside then can't help her snort. It's a 2-for-1 coupon at the local fast food joint for a dinner and drink combo. "That's," again not what she was expecting, "incredibly considerate."

"If tonight bombs at least you won't go home hungry."

"Thank you." Lisa's cheeks nearly hurt from grinning. "What a coincidence. I'm always going around telling people, whether or not a date is successful shouldn't be judged by its soufflé."