Michael & Noelle

"See, I Was Just Hungry"

The next morning was particularly colder, and it rained a bit. I silently prayed that this wouldn't ruin the date. I had woken up at the c***k of dawn, barely having slept at all, just filled with excitement.

I wanted to go with a loose outfit today, that showed a bit of skin but still left to the imagination. I went with a dress that sat just above my knee, it was yellow, giving brunch vibes, and had little ruffles at the end. The chest area had a deep plunge and the waist stuck to me like a glove.

I paired the dress with wedge heels and a woven bag.

I wasn't a fan of very heavy makeup but I did enjoy a few enhancers so I threw on some lashes, lip liner, lip gloss, and base makeup.

By the time it was nine, I was pacing my room nervously. My stomach felt like a bottomless pit, and my hands were sweaty.

"Noelle?" Aunt Cleo pops her head into the room, "a Michael is here for you."

She smirks knowingly and I playfully narrow my eyes at her, before gathering myself.

"You look amazing," she whispers, nodding in approval as she strolled behind me.

"Thank you," I grin, before regaining my composure and joining him in the living room.

Michael's hands were as usual, buried in his pockets.

If it's one thing I adored, it was a man that was secure in his masculinity. So secure that wearing neatly ironed pink pastel-colored slacks, didn't bother him. In fact, they looked like they were made for him. He paired it with a light blue button-up and white button-up, and a baby blue blazer. Everything fit him so well, I wouldn't be surprised if he had it made for him.

"Noelle," his eyes skimmed all over me, and I nervously hold the bag with both hands in front of me, "there isn't a word I could possibly use to describe how . . . beautiful . . . alluring . . . enthralling you look."

"I think you named a few," I titter, and he smiles.

"This is for you," he outstretches a bouquet towards me, and with my lips parted, I take them from his hands.

"Thank you," I beamed.

He raises his head to nod at Aunt Cleo who sat in the background. She tried not to look suspicious, but it was obvious that her headphones weren't all the way around her ears.

"Shall we?"

He steps aside to allow me to walk in front of him and I look back at Clementine, give him a small, yet exciting wave to which she replies with two thumbs up.

"You clean up very nicely as well," I compliment him as he opens up the door for me and he raises an eyebrow.

"It's okay," he tilts his head, "you can call me beautiful."

"Alright, Shakespeare," I snicker and he narrows his eyes at me, climbing into the driver's side.

"I miss the Michael that I left with my aunt."

#

Michael took me to Skyliner's. It was a very prestigious and costly restaurant, that had amazing seats right at the top. It opened up to the morning sky, but we decided to dine indoors since the rain would make the experience unpleasant.

"What your step," Michael instantly takes my hand as we approach the stairs, helping me up since I wore heels. I quietly wondered if he felt how sweaty my palms were, but if he did, he didn't seem to be bothered by it.

He didn't let go of my hand as we approached the receptionist, and although I was cheesing inside, I remain as cool and collected as I could, pretending as if I had done this many times before.

"Good morning," she smiles at the both of us, "hope you two are having a wonderful morning –"

"I made a reservation for two. It's under the name Michael Kane."

"Oh, alright," she lets out an awkward laugh before nodding, "we have you right here at table four, follow me."

She leads us to our table, and Michael pulls the seat out for me, before pushing the chair gently into the table. The receptionist lets us know that our waitress will be with us shortly.

"This place is legit," I mutter, shifting to get comfy in the chairs.

"It is, I haven't been here very often though, maybe once or twice for business meetings."

"Is the food good?"

"From the little I've tasted, it is."

The waitress approaches our table, a warm smile on her face. The atmosphere here was absolutely welcoming.

"Hi, welcome to Skyliners. I'm Macy, and I'll be your waitress for the night."

I offer her an encouraging smile as she sets down the menus, her fingers shaky.

"I'll give you a moment to browse through the menu, and I'll be back."

"Thanks," Micahel murmurs, taking his into his hands.

We sat in silence for a few seconds.

"Does anything look good to you?" He asks and I hum indecisively.

"The chocolate chip oatmeal is really sticking out to me . . . and maybe the omelette. What do you think?"

"I was thinking the omelette as well, and some fruit."

"That's it?"

"They're serving proportions are fairly large."

"Well, in that case, I think we're ready."

We end up flagging the waitress because she hadn't returned yet.

"Wow, you guys are the most decisive people we've ever encountered," she chuckles, "most people take –"

"She'll have the chocolate chip oatmeal, and an omelette, and I'll have an omelette as well with a fruit bowl."

My mouth dropped open as Michael disregards the waitresses' small talk, leaving her standing there with red cheeks.

"Do you want anything to drink?" He asks me.

"I'll have the freshly squeezed orange juice please."

"Just water for me."

"G-got it. Your order will be right up." She quickly disappears, leaving me to stare at Michael.

"What?"

"That was very impolite," I scold and leans back in his chair.

"Her job is to collect our order and bring the food. Not make conversation."

"I get that but cutting her off is . . . rude . . . I'm sure she feels embarrassed."

"I usually eat at six," he reminds me, "I haven't eaten all morning and I'm not trying to be crappy, but she should maintain professionalism. What if she waiting on me to take the order, and I held her back by talking about how many other waiters don't wait for me properly. Her first comment was accepted, but she wanted to go on and on."

"So . . . you're going to cut me off every time I talk about something that isn't important to you or isn't convenient for you?"

Michael remains quiet, his face neutral, "I wouldn't do that to you."

The date was off to an awkward start, and it irritated me a little that he was so rude to the waitress. She was just trying to be polite and although I understand his standpoint I think that it's important that he learns to acknowledge other's feelings and not just his at the moment.

The waitress returns with our food in less than fifteen minutes.

"Omelette, Oatmeal, and Orange juice for you, and Omelette, fruit bowl, and water for you."

"Thank you," I smiled, and she hesitantly smiles back.

"Macy," Michael reaches into his pocket, "I apologize for rudely interrupting –"

"Oh no," she exclaims, "it's. I – I understand."

He pulls out a hundred-dollar bill and hands it to her. Her eyes were wide.

"Nevertheless, take this as a tip."

Macy reluctantly takes the money from his fingertips.

"Thank you so much," she nods "I really do appreciate it. Please, enjoy your meal."

She leaves us alone, and I can't help but c***k at a smile at him.

"See," he shrugs, " I was just hungry."