Natasha's wardrobe was a battlefield of indecision.
"What do I wear? Daniel sure looked like someone who loves fashion, and I don't want to go there looking like a homeless woman." Natasha complained.
A sleek black jumpsuit felt too formal, a flowy bohemian dress, too much of a concession.
"Wow! I can't just believe I actually want to do this. A married woman going to grab a drink with her admirer. Well, he really didn't ask me out. Let's just say it's harmless," she murmured, as she paced forth and back in her room trying to find the best outfit.
The ticking clock mocked her internal conflict, the perfectly curated chaos of her closet reflected the turmoil in her heart.
Finally, fifteen minutes late, she arrived at the dimly lit bar, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of Daniel already seated, a half-empty glass of amber liquid before him.
"Hi," Natasha greeted.
Daniel, observing her from across the room felt a pang of annoyance at her tardiness. He looked up, a fake smile playing on his lips.
"You are late," he blurted.
"I'm sorry. I was caught up with," she was yet to finish, when Daniel interrupted.
"I hate it when people cannot just keep to time." He paused. "We had an agreement, but you chose to act on your own accordance, how rude!" he yelled.
Natasha was stunned by his actions. The guy who was sweet and cool at the cinema, was now totally something else at the bar. She felt angered and embarrassed by the choice of his words, but felt she was partially at fault.
"Daniel I'm sorry," she begged.
"It's okay, but next time I won't take that." He replied.
"There certainly won't be a next time." she whispered underneath her breath.
"Excuse me,"
"Oh, I said the music is nice, I love it." Natasha lied.
"Oh! I see." Daniel replied.
He looked around as if looking for something. "Waiter!" he called. "Over here please."
"Good evening ma'am, what would you like to order?" the waiter asked facing Natasha.
"I'll have," she was still looking at the menu on the table when Daniel interrupted.
"Just give us two glasses of margarita."
"Okay, two glasses of margarita it is." The waiter replied, as he wrote it in the small book he was holding, and he left."
"I'm sorry, but what was that?" Natasha queried.
"What was what?" Daniel asked.
"Really, I don't even get to ask for what I would love to drink? Two glasses of margarita?" she complained.
"Common Natasha, I noticed you were indecisive, and the poor guy was waiting forever to get your order." He defended.
'Maybe I took too long with the menu.' Natasha wondered in her head.
"it's fine. Sorry I overreacted." She pleaded.
"Two glasses of margarita, here you go." The waiter placed the drinks on the table.
It was weird. Terribly, undeniably weird. She was a wife, though not a mother yet. The clandestine meeting, this awkward exchange of pleasantries, felt wrong. The conversation, strained and halting, felt like a string of carefully chosen knots, none of them tied securely.
He'd talked about his work, a job involving intricate maps and cryptic codes, a word utterly alien to her. Daniel seemed to be intentionally pushing her buttons, making bizzare, unsolicited advances followed by hurtful remarks.
Natasha, determined to remain civil, carefully crafted her responses, choosing her words with the delicate precision of a bomb disposal expert.
She hoped her polite but firm demeanor would signal her discomfort and steer the conversation in a more pleasant direction. But the attempt was in vain.
"What do you think about the new president?" Natasha blurted.
"What President?" Daniel asked.
"Our Country's President," Natasha replied.
"Oh! I'm not into politics, so I don't think I care, a software developer like me is too occupied with meaningful things to do other than looking up to a man that calls himself the President." he said bluntly.
"Oh, Okay." Natasha paused. "Where are you from again?" She asked.
"Los Angeles. I'm from Los Angeles." He replied.
"Oh! that's great. I heard it's a nice place to live." She replied, hoping for him to ask questions about her and keep the conversation flowing.
"So, as I was saying, my line of work demands a lot, and I just," he continued to speak highly of his job.
"There he goes again" Natasha mumbled, as everything Daniel was saying started to sound like a noise.
She'd tried to steer the conversation to something relatable, but he'd steer it back to his work, his eyes sparkling with an almost unsettling intensity.
Natasha felt herself increasingly uncomfortable. Her perfectly manicured nails, usually a source of comfort, felt like lead weights.
The soft jazz music playing in the background seemed to mock her, each note a gentle reminder of the awkward silence between them.
His laughter, a sharp, almost brittle sound, only served to amplify her unease. It wasn't a genuine laugh; it was more like a practiced sound, a performance.
Every second felt like an eternity. She longed for the clock to tick faster, for the café to empty, for the chance to slip away unnoticed.
The frustration began to simmer. She was starving for some reciprocal, some genuine connection. But Daniel remained oblivious, lost in his own self-absorbed world. Natasha felt her patience wearing thin. She just needed to manage until she could politely excuse herself.
Across the bar, in the shadows, she thought she spotted a familiar face. A face that sparked a fleeting surge of something akin to hope.
It looked like Xander, her husband's best friend, the one whom she'd been avoiding lately. But the bar was too dark to be certain. She quickly dismissed the thought, focusing on surviving the ordeal in front of her.
Finally, Natasha decided she'd had enough. With a carefully rehearsed excuse, she announced she had to leave.
"I'm sorry Daniel, but I have to take my leave." She said, reaching for her hand bag that was placed carefully on the table.
This seemingly innocuous statement triggered a dramatic shift in Daniel. Annoyance, previously subtly veiled, now surfaced in full force. He launched into a rude tirade, questioning her sincerity and accusing her of leading him on.
"And why do you have to leave now. Do you have an appointment with someone else this night?" he queried.
"No, I just have to leave. It's getting late already." She defended.
"Ahh! I see a ring" he paused, looking at Natasha's ring. "It's a diamond ring." He said.
Natasha, feeling uncomfortable, used her right hand to cover the ring.
"You have to leave so your husband won't hit you when you get home, right?" he taunted.
"Jesus Daniel!" Natasha blurted.
"You led me on Natasha, I had feelings for you. Why didn't you tell me you are married?" he yelled.
"Well, I didn't get the chance to," she answered silently.
"Wow! You didn't get the chance to. I see. I guess that is how you go around cheating on your poor husband." He blurted.
Natasha, hurt by his words decided to leave quietly, and not cause a scene. She stood up, adjusted her dress and replied, "I'm not doing this with you tonight Daniel, Good night."
"Going to meet another man huh? It's fine, I totally get it. A woman like you can never be satisfied by one man." He blurted.
That was the breaking point. Natasha's carefully constructed composure crumbled. All the patience she had painstakingly cultivated evaporated in a fiery burst of anger. She lashed out, firing back at Daniel with a force she hadn't realized she possessed. The date already a disaster, imploded.
"You know what, I honestly don't blame you. You are rude and so full of yourself. This was supposed to be a "getting-to-know-each-other date, but instead you launched it into a monologue about your work, achievements, everything and frankly, about yourself only." She blurted and paused, as she tried to catch her breath.
Daniel just sat and watched as she poured out her frustration, he couldn't say a word. He was stunned.
"You are right, I shouldn't have come to this God-forsaken date. You've been nothing but so mean, ever since I got here, but the deed has been done already. Don't you ever in your miserable life contact me again. I don't want to see your pathetic and wretched face anymore." She yelled.
Without another word, Natasha stormed out of the bar, leaving behind Daniel and his barrage of insults. The lingering scent of stale beer and shattered expectations hung heavily in the air.
As she walked into the night, the encounter left a bitter taste in her mouth. She couldn't help but wonder, as she hailed a cab, if that flicker of hope in the shadows had been more than just a fleeting illusion.
Perhaps, Xander had been there after all, a silent witness to the disastrous date. And perhaps, just perhaps, the night held a silver lining hidden somewhere amidst the wreckage.
Suddenly, Natasha heard a familiar voice from behind.
"That was quite a scene back there. A date gone south I suppose."