Page 3 of Glow

When he got to the bar they had agreed to meet in, he checked his appearance in the window. Not too shabby. Or sweaty.

Although it added to the stress, he always took a mental snapshot of the moment before a date.

Is this the moment things change? Right now?

Inside, the bar was fairly busy. A couple of early party casualties were swaying around on the dancefloor vaguely in time to the house music that blared out. Scott took in the whole room, searching for tonight’s lucky man. In the corner, he saw a figure sitting at a table, alone.

That had to be him.

Fuck, he’s gorgeous.

Scott took a deep breath, raised his chin and walked over to his date. About halfway, he caught his eye. Scott smiled shyly.

By the time he reached the table, perspiration beaded on his forehead. Had this guy chosen to sit the farthest from the door just to watch Scott come over?

He stood.

“Scott? Wow, I thought you’d be thinner.”

With a calmness he never knew he possessed, Scott picked up the half-drunk pint of lager from the table and tipped it over the head of his date, who let out a cry that demanded everyone’s attention. Without saying a word, Scott spun on his heels and walked out of the bar.

As soon as he got round the corner, he dove up an alley and leant against the wall. What the fuck had happened?

As soon as he got back to the flat, Scott raced upstairs. He sat down on the end of his bed and put his head in his hands. It had been a battle of epic proportions not to burst into tears in the taxi. Now he was in the safety of his room, he couldn’t summon them. His anxiety needed that release but they wouldn’t come.

How many more shitty dates did he have to go on? Things were getting worse instead of better.

Just as he was about to bury his face in the pillow and scream, he heard a timid knock on his door.

“Come in,” he shouted.

The door opened to reveal Eddie in the doorway. “Didn’t go well, huh?”

Scott shook his head.

“What kind of situation is this?” Eddie asked, venturing into the room. “A prosecco one? Or a gin?”

“Only a prosecco one,” Scott replied. “He’s not worth a gin hangover.”

Eddie sat down on the end of the bed.

“Shit,” he said. “Scott Fitzgerald is making sensible decisions. Call the newspapers.”

“Funny guy.”

They sat for a second. Eddie was probably one of the only people in the world that Scott allowed himself to be this still with. His mother always said if there was silence, Scott’s mission was to fill it. Not that she had much room to talk.

“Come on then,” Eddie said, eventually. “What happened?”

“He said he thought I’d be thinner.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

Eddie took hold of his hand. “That is fucking bullshit. What did you say?”

“Nothing.”