Problems With The Hierarchy

#9 Mutual Understanding

By the way, this book is written in single POV. So, I removed the part on Richard's POV. TOO BAD IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT. :p

#9 Mutual Understanding

At Joey's house, I managed to find an elegant tilt dress. It was striped on top, and black on the bottom. This dress belonged to Joey. I hardly ever owned any dress. One, I don't like to dress. Not that I had many formal stuff to attend anyway. Two, I don't seem to have a fabulous sense of fashion. Joey, on the other hand..  

But first, I bathed at her house and curled my hair slightly, with the help of Joey. Also, I put on some eyeliner and mascara, on top of some foundation. 

After putting on the same Tangerine lip gloss, I slipped onto the tilt dress. Ready to go.

By the time I'm done, it's already half past 5.

“Beep!” I can hear Bryson’s car outside Joey’s house. Time to go for my first date.. I thought to myself nervously.

“Uh… hi.” I was nervous that was all I said. He must be really experienced at all these stuff.

“Hi, you look gorgeous today.” He complimented me.

“You don’t look half-bad yourself.” That sounded clichéd. But I was trying my best here.

He wore a white suit and a black tie. It matches my outfit. Honestly, he looked hot.

“Touché. Let’s go, shall we?” he asked politely for my permission.

“Sure,” I responded as I nodded approvingly. He opened the car door like a gentleman.

“To think I thought chivalry didn’t exist anymore.” I teased, jokingly. He flashed a heart-stopping grin at me.

“For you, anytime, milady.” He retorted, jokingly as well.

We took a 20-minute drive to the Chinese restaurant downtown. Once again he opened the door for me so I can step out of the car. He gestured to let me walk alongside with him.

I contentedly walked beside him, and he held my hand as we walked in.

“Reservations for two, Bryson Hiller.” He said to the lady standing in front of the restaurant. I watched as the lady checked him out. She looked like she was around 20, if not less.

Not liking what she did, Bryson coughed, and turned back to me.

“This restaurant serves great food, Liz.” Bryson commented.

He called me Liz? I thought we weren’t close enough to address each other that way.

So, his name is ‘Bry’? I laughed at the thought.

“You like Chinese?” I asked, in response to his comment.

“Yeah, my mother knows how to cook Chinese, and I loved her cooking, this restaurant is the closest I can find.” He stated.

What happened to his mother? Why does he have to find the flavour?

“She’s gone.” Bryson interjected my thoughts.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” My voice sounded a little cracked.

He plastered a smile, and gave me an ‘it’s-okay’ look.

Then, the lady brought us to our tables. It was a table for two, against the window. Outside the window, one could see the view of the central park nearby. It was a picturesque sight to see.

As I sat down, I unfurled the scroll-like menu. So much for being Chinese, I thought.

I studied the menu for a while, and heard Bryson ordered, “I’ll have almond chicken.”