7. Stood Up

"I mean what's the worst he could possibly do?" Rory questions from her perch upon her bed. Her feet dangle over the edge as she paints her nails a fiery red.

"He's a millionaire—I'm sure he can come up with something creative," I fret. Ever since the encounter with Leon earlier today, my nerves have sky-rocketed about going on the date. Though of course I'm not going to let that asshole deter me from pissing him off. The only thing that's keeping me going is knowing that Leon will be in his million dollar penthouse tonight, with steam coming out of his ears while he knows I'm out at dinner with his little brother.

If anything, it'd be the guilt of leading Holland on that would get me to cancel. Don't get me wrong, he's cute and he's sweet but I'm the total opposite and I don't think he'd survive with someone like me. Rory wasn't necessarily wrong when she said I was scary.

But the urge to ruin Leon's day trumps any sense of guilt I might have. Does that make me an awful person? Perhaps. But it doesn't mean he is any less of an awful person than I am. I mean, who the hell does this guy think he is, telling me what I can and cannot do. It's ridiculous and I won't stand for it. "Maybe he actually secretly likes you and that's why he doesn't want you to go out with his little brother." Rory suggests.

"No way, the man hates me," I shake my head.

"Why else would he be so persistent in getting you to cancel the date?"

"Probably because I didn't take his shit and it hurt his fragile masculine ego," I shrug my shoulders and turn around to face Rory. "How do I look, is the blush too much?" I wouldn't say I'm terrible at makeup, but I'm certainly no artist, and I wouldn't be surprised if I look like I just stepped off the stage of a theatre performance. All of those times doing theatre in high school has only taught me how to do the most dramatic and stage-worthy makeup.

"You look beautiful," She smiles all mushy. I can't help the smile that spreads across my face, but quickly hide it. I love Rory more than words can say. "You should take some pics and put them on ista or something. Maybe Mr. Millionaire will see them and get jealous."

"There's no way he'd take the timeout of his precious day to look for my socials, let alone care enough to be jealous of his brother. He can get literally anything he wants with his money and good looks, why on earth would his little brothers sloppy seconds?" I laugh.

"So you do think he's good looking?"

"Shut up!" I pick up one of my pillows and throw it at her face, hoping it doesn't land on her wet nails. Thankfully it doesn't. "You've seen him, anyone would have to be blind to not see the mans got looks."

"Sure, sure..." she wiggles her eyebrows and we both laugh hysterically.

We're interrupted by the sound of my phone going off, and I reach for it on the bed. The screen is illuminated by a single message from Holland.

Holland: Hey there's been a change in plans, instead of meeting you at the restaurant at six I'll pick you up at ten to, what's ur address?

"What is it?" Rory asks.

"Nothing, just Holland saying he'll pick me up around six." I start typing him back.

Me: Sounds good. I'm at 28 Flounder St

Holland: Cool, I'll see you in twenty.

I frown, twenty minutes? Looking at the time on my phone, I jump from the bed. "Fuck, he's gonna be here in twenty minutes and I still look like mess!" I cry, flinging myself towards my wardrobe and grabbing the first dress I see. Which also happens to be the lesser slutty dress of the two I own. The place Holland booked for dinner looked mighty fancy, so I can only hope they don't kick me out because of this dress.

It's an ankle length, lavender, floral summer dress that I got at some marker stall which charged me way too much. And while it's not the fanciest, it'll do. I pull over a black leather coat and black boots to pull the look together and when I look back at my reflection, I give myself a small smile. I look good, even if my makeup might be just a little overzealous.

"Hot!" Rory squeals as she fans herself dramatically.

"Oh shut up, you," I laugh.

"Holland is gonna be all over you by the end of the night, who knows, maybe you'll end up coming back here to escape that pesky hot millionaire brother of his." She raises an eyebrow in question.

"No," I shake my head. "Nothing is going to happen tonight, I'm only going on this date to annoy the shit out of Leon, I'm not going to go and have sex with Holland when I'm already scared of what his brother is going to do when I'm just going on a date with him."

"You're such a worry wort, Bee," Rory huffs.

"It's called self preservation."

"Yeah whatever," she waves her hand off and turns to look at her phone, giggling like a crazy person.

"What are you giggling at?" I question, knowing full well it's those two hunky Russian guys. She wont shut up about them, not that I'm complaining. In fact, I'm really happy that she's finding happiness. Rory hasn't particularly had the happiest life and I hope that something long-term can come of these guys. Because she deserves it. She deserves it way more than me.

"Nothing, just Nikolai being cute. Him and Alexei have invited me to theirs for this weekend, they said they'll take me out to a fancy diner and then—"

"Yeah yeah, I get what comes next." It's my turn to wave her off, laughing.

By the time it hits ten to six, I'm waiting outside the door, looking around for Hollands fancy car. Or should I say Leons? Rory waits inside by the window, watching me and cheering me on like an eager fan. I'd say she's more excited about this date then I am. But it isn't long before ten to, turns into ten past, and then twenty past.

I've texted and called him numerous times, but he just doesn't pick up or even read the messages. Have I been ghosted? Oh god, that would be humiliating if Leon found out after all this fuss, that Holland was the one to bail on me. And why do I even care what he would think? I cry out in frustration.

"You know where the restaurant is, right?" Rory asks.

I nod my head.

"Maybe his phone is just dead—you've got nothing else going on tonight—so perhaps just swing by the restaurant. He could be there."

"Yeah, I guess." I mutter, annoyed at Holland but more so myself. At least it's only a ten minute walk.

Though, I'm not sure Holland would still be there by the time I get there. That's if he didn't actually ghost me.

So I wave goodbye to Rory and hit the road.

Thankfully it's not too cold today and my dress is conservative enough that I wont get any creeps coming my way. The walk is actually fairly nice, and I make it to the restaurant in no time.

From outside, it looks like the place is booked out and bustling. I don't know how Holland managed to get a reservation with such late notice, but I guess there's perks when you're brothers with a millionaire.

The restaurant is massive and while it isn't the fanciest one in the city, it's fitted with gold details throughout, looking like a place you'd find on the streets of Paris or Italy.

Walking inside, I go to the front desk. Behind it is a tall older lady with her thick brunette hair tied into a bun upon her head. "Do you have a reservation?" She asks before I can even get a word out.

"I think my date did, his name is Holland Camdon." I say wearily. Hopefully he's still here if he was even here at all, because I don't think I can handle the embarrassment if he's gone, or people think I stood him up.

After a quick search up into the system, the woman huffs. "Yes, he's this way."

I sigh with relief and follow as the lady leads me to him. We swerve past tables of happy couples and upper class families until through the dozens of heads I can finally see the head of familiar chestnut brown hair.

Holland's eyes meet mine and they light up instantly. It kinda makes me feel bad for leading him on and thinking he stood me up. But how was I supposed to know? He was the one who texted me he'd pick me up. Quickly my relief turns into anger and I can't help but frown at him.

"Hey, I thought you were never going to make it!" He exclaims, standing from his seat and reaching out to give me a kiss on the cheek. The audacity.

"You thought I wasn't going to make it?" I pull away from him. "So did I."

He looks at me with confusion.

Looks like I'll need to spell it out for him. "Usually when you tell a girl you're going to pick them up, they expect you to follow through with it."

Now he looks even more confused. "I think there's been some kind of miscommunication, I thought we'd agreed to meet here?"

"Yeah, that was until you texted me at five-thirty changing those plans." I huff.

"What do you mean, I never texted you that. I don't even have my phone with me, I accidentally left it at home." Holland looks like a little lost puppy that got blamed for wrecking a nice pair of shoes when it was in fact the big bad wolf who was guilty.

It doesn't take long for my anger to turn to confusion and then anger again. We take our seats and I show Holland the texts but he looks equally just as confused. Which means there can only be one logical explanation...

"What the hell is he doing here," I hear Holland mumble, looking over my shoulder to the front doors of the restaurant.

I turn around, following his gaze until my eyes land upon the one person who I am one-hundred percent sure caused this mess in the first place.

###

Unedited

Hey Guys!!!

Looks like someone is stirring up trouble...

Random question of the day:

Who is your favourite music artist?

I've got too many to count, but I love Lizzy Mcalpine, Phoebe Bridgers and Harry Styles to name a few!

Love ya'll!!

-FoggyCloudyWords

xxx