Lights, Camera, Kiss Me

Chapter 4: Bit of Aussie Hospitality

❤️Mac❤️

"I had a really nice time with you tonight, Mac," Dale says.

"Dinner was absolutely incredible. Thank you."

Tonight, I dined at Vue De Monde with Dale. Located on the fifty-fifth floor of the Rialto tower in Melbourne, Dale's choice of restaurant for our third date left me genuinely impressed. The food and wine surpassed anything I've tasted before, and the city's view was nothing short of breathtaking.

Dale proved to be the perfect dinner companion. He maintained an engaging conversation throughout the night, making it a point to ask about me. His presence is comforting – perhaps too comforting.

He's kissed me on two prior occasions, and those moments were... pleasant. Yet, they lacked the spark to set my heart racing.

Perhaps Dale needs another chance. After all, tonight's menu boasted a mix of aphrodisiacs – oysters, champagne, and chocolate. A warmth spreads through me, influenced by the food and the champagne's bubbly charm. I hope, with every fiber of my being, that any ensuing passion will be directed solely towards him. I picture a life with the charming doctor, one where my relationship with Ryan resets to our old dynamics - before I ever voiced my feelings.

"Well," I start, feigning a search for my keys in my handbag, silently urging Dale Morgan to make his move.

In an instant, he leans in, pressing his lips to mine. His arm wraps around my waist while his other hand cradles my head. Drawing me closer, I loop my arms around his neck, intent on immersing myself in the moment. Yet, as Dale deepens the kiss, introducing a gentle dance of tongues, my emotions remain static—devoid of the toe-curling passion or breath-stealing anticipation.

"Wow," Dale murmurs as he breaks the connection.

Puzzled, I echo, "Wow?"

The kiss felt ordinary, devoid of any magic. A sinking feeling grips me. Are we not on the same page? Making matters worse is his connection to Jazz. How can I convey the lack of mutual chemistry? Jazz had envisioned a fairy tale for us. The undeniable fact remains: while Dale Morgan seems perfect on paper, there's no tangible spark between us.

No, the 'spark' seems to be reserved for a certain co-star who has been M.I.A for the past three weeks.

"That was bad, wasn't it?" Dale asks.

"Pardon?"

"I mean, there wasn't really anything there, was there?"

"When we kissed?" Am I hearing him right, or am I just being hopeful?

Dale nods, and relief washes over me. We are on the same page after all. That makes this so much less awkward than it could have been.

"No," I admit. "I'm sorry. There really wasn't."

"It was kind of like kissing my sister," Dale says.

"Oh, do you kiss her often?" I joke.

He grins. "Only on special occasions."

I laugh. "Jazz will be disappointed."

"She'll deal with it."

"She will."

"Perhaps we could go out as friends sometime," Dale offers.

"That would be nice." It will probably never happen, but it's a nicer sentiment than 'have a nice life. I'll probably never see you again.'

"Goodbye, Mac."

"Goodbye, Dale."

I open my apartment door, kick off my high heels, and drop my handbag onto the couch in the lounge room. My gaze automatically shifts to the tiny Christmas tree where the gift I've bought Ryan still sits unopened. I know he has been at his mother's over Christmas, but there have been several catch-ups at Jazz's since he returned, and he hasn't attended any of them.