prompt: Marcus has not been on a date in a very long time

warning: suggestive implications

word count: 980

pronouns: gender-neutral

══════════════════

second-person point of view. . .

══════════════════

He wanted to rip the skin off his hands--the skin felt unnatural covering his bones. Were his hands always this sweaty? Surely not. If they had, someone would have remarked on it. More specifically, Missy would have scolded him over it. This was a new phenomenon, perhaps caused by his current stressful situation.

"Are we still waiting on someone?" The waiter wondered as respectfully as possible.

"Yeah, sorry," Marcus told him.

The waiter gave him a pitiful smile and walked away. Marcus looked down at his watch, knowing damn well the server was beginning to suspect he had been stood up. You should have arrived ten minutes ago. Yet here he was, still waiting.

He had tried to distract himself by taking a look at the menu, by that did not last long. It had been a mistake to arrive at the restaurant early. He should have known it would only cause his anxieties to skyrocket. He had even tried to invest in the conversation between the elderly couple sitting behind him.

The dining floor was the temporary home of many individuals that night: corporate gatherings, family celebrations, and couples. The good smell of overly expensive food wafted in the air as the tables around him received their dinner. If he did not feel borderline nauseous, Marcus would have felt his stomach growl. This feeling had not festered within him in years; those little knives cutting up his insides. He may as well have been a teenage boy again.

You were twelve minutes late. Marcus was starting to fear for the worst. He took his phone out of his back pocket, double-checking to ensure that you did not raincheck at the last minute. There was nothing. Maybe it was all too good to be true. Maybe the waiter's suspicions would soon be confirmed.

"I'm so, so sorry!" Your sudden voice made him jerk his head up.

A relieved smile broke out across his face. You finally showed up, thank heavens. Marcus leaped to his feet and rushed over to where you stood, on the other side of the white cloth-covered table. He pulled your chair out for you and you thanked him sheepishly.

"Again, I'm sorry for being so late," you went on with an exasperated sigh. "I promise I'm not normally late! My boss kept me late and I spent like twenty minutes looking for my keys."

"Don't worry about it," Marcus let out a small laugh as he shook his head. "I'm just glad you're here."

"I am too," you told him with a giddy smile. "It's really good to see you again, Marcus. I've been looking forward to this for a while."

"I have too," he admitted truthfully. "But, uh, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little nervous. It's been a... long time since I've been on a date."

You laughed, though it was not to shame him. It had been obvious when he had asked for your phone number a week ago. He had been uncharacteristically nervous. The last person he had ever asked out was his late wife and that had been more than thirteen years ago.

"I know that feeling, trust me," you assured him. "But you've got nothing to be nervous about. I don't bite, I promise."

The understanding that particular sentence was intended to express was overshadowed by its inherent mischievous nature. Such words were supposed to be delivered with a devilish wink and a knowing smirk. Marcus took the words at their innocent face value. Until, your smart-mouth instincts took hold, 

"Unless you want me to."

The words fell from your lips with more sinister undertones than you had planned. Marcus, though a little naive, connected the dots well enough on his own. His brown eyes lit up with sparkles that could only be described as excited or eager. You noted the sudden perk in his demeanor. It made you smile, with a flattered warmth spreading across your face.

"I might like that," Marcus admitted playfully.

If he has not been on a date in a very long time, surely, it must have been just as long since he has last...

"Might?" You teased, finding a grin irresistible. "Oh, what? You haven't decided yet?"

"I, uh... " Marcus paused with a small shake of his head and a more than amused smile. "I'd like to get to know you more first. Make sure the connection's more than just physical."

"How long do you figure that'll take?" You chuckled flirtatiously.

"I don't know," he hummed, glancing down at the watch on his wrist to emphasize his impish point. "Maybe by dessert."

A laugh that was a tad too loud escaped your lips. Marcus, nevertheless, enjoyed that sound. Perhaps more than he should have, given how little he knew you. That big grin suited you, in his eyes, like a warm drink suited a snowy day.

"And here you said it's been a long time!" You taunted him with back-handed praise.

After his initial anxiety had worn off, Marcus became rather charming. With your encouragment by way of initiation, he happily engaged in flirtatious bantered with you. His attentnion only drifted away from you when the waitor circled around take your order, then it immediately returned to you.

He curiously asked about your career, hobbies, and interests. The man sitting across from you seemed to geuninely hang off every word you uttered. Each syllable was a peom scrawled in warm ink across his mind, just for him. You reciprocated the enthusiasm and, in turn, read the peoms he wrote for you with fervor.

All those nerves had been for nothing. The biting of nails, churning of stomachs--it was completely unwarranted. Marcus was everything you had hoped him to be and more. And you? You were exactly the kind of person he had been waiting for. The date was going fantastic in his book, though it had been ages since he dusted the old thing off. He knew well before dessert that there would be a second date.