Chapter 3

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CHAPTER 3

 A shining bald patch staring Elaine right in the eye was straining her already disturbed nerves.

 Thankfully though, its owner raised his head, still sparsely adorned with ginger hair, from admiring the sumptuous dishes prettily arranged on their table.

 “And that’s how I earned the badge for the best student of the year that day.” Henry said, bringing to his mouth the slice of succulent duck he had precisely cut into a bite size piece.

 Elaine discerned he squinted his eyes twice for the…

 How many times has it been?

 She had lost count somewhere in the saga of his accomplishments between the first grade and his sophomore year.

 It was hard to concentrate on what he was saying when he kept squinting at her every ten seconds. And it was even harder to decide which was worse, his relentless squinting, or his incessant talking.

 They were dining at Golden Palm, an upscale restaurant in Manhattan, New York. The lavish fare spread before them was a delight to sight and palate, yet Elaine couldn’t muster enjoyment in any of it. Why she had taken such effort to dress up for this occasion was now beyond her.

 The elegant silver-grey backless dress felt too intimate for a first date.

 Though it was loose-fitting at the top, it cinched at her tiny waist and hugged from there down her flaring hips to end at the middle of her shapely thighs. Her hair was coiled in a coiffure that was in itself an art, while strings of moonbeams dangling, danced from her earlobes.

 “Have I mentioned the time when at my junior year-” Swathed in his dinner jacket, Henry didn’t wait for her approval or denial but embarked on yet another of his stories to self-glory.

 Elaine wouldn’t be surprised if Henry believed he did a great service having accorded his parents the honour of being his parents.

 His lips kept moving in a litany.

 How long was long enough for one to end a date without seeming uncourteous? Oh, God, why was he watching her funny?

 He had stopped talking–a mercy, but disconcertingly specious no less. Did she have a stray crumb sticking to her mouth? Self-consciously, Elaine brushed the serviette over her lips.

 When Henry gave her a cryptic smile, she politely, heavily, tugged at the corners of her own mouth.

 As she rested her bare arms back on the table, an anomaly in his behaviour drew her eye. Ever so often his gaze kept returning to her hands. Specially the left one lying idly by the gravy-boat.

 Before she could have predicted his intension, with the speed of a striking snake his hand shot out for hers.

 However, triggered by something instinctive Elaine moved to a quick defence. She swiftly snatched her hand from its prosaic position, her brain innately rejecting even that small a contact from him.

 But undeterred, Henry gave chase. Elaine feinted reaching for the salad bowl, then dove for her wine.

 Unfortunately, he was just as quick. Their match of tag ended up knocking the Claret glass, and the red wine spilled on the table streaming down to ruin Henry’s fine pants.

 “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Elaine rushed out her apology. There was no excuse for insulting Henry so publicly with her silly skittish act.

 They had both flown off their seats by now.

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