Chapter 5
Five
-GRAYSON-
Milo has an open-mouthed stare.
He is seated at a table with a bottle of wine and a pitcher of water. He tries to stand but the blonde next to him tugs on his arm. It’s Summer. Why is she here? I thought it was just going to be us.
Her gaze reminds me of that woman in an old science fiction movie I saw recently. She goes back to the lab and sees her love interest, large, hairy, and inching towards her with his arms jutting forward, keen to strangle her.
And Summer has that same ‘get the hell out of here while I still can’ glare that scientist’s girlfriend had. I feel like a monster.
As Milo finally makes his way to me, Summer is pointing and laughing. She raises her phone, aims it at me, and takes a snap. And now she’s typing something.
“I didn’t know you were into cosplay,” says Milo.
“Neither did I.”
“But you’re dressed as Robin Hood.” Milo feels the tip of an arrow, looking dumbfounded. “You are meant to be Robin Hood, aren’t you?”
Other diners stare.
“There’s a spare chair at our table if you want to put your props down,” he says. “You can hook the bow to the back of the chair. Or will that damage it?”
A waiter approaches. “You can’t bring a weapon in here.”
“Oh.” There’s a catch in my throat. “Of course. Sorry.” I hand them over.
“I’ll take these out back. Just collect them on your way out.” The waiter leaves, holding the props, before looking back like I’m the biggest weirdo he’s ever seen.
I close my eyes, trying to centre myself. Eventually, I smile, focusing on the fact this lovely guy asked me on a date, while also blocking out the unbelievable elements of my homelife. Although I can’t escape the coarse material of my ridiculous costume against my skin.
I flick my eyes open to admire Milo’s attire. Stylish chinos and a white t-shirt with a motif of a chimp wearing headphones. It’s really funky. And his suit jacket is hanging on the back of his chair. Milo has taste.
If only he saw the outfit I had on a minute ago.
“Why are you dressed as Robin Hood?”
“It’s a dare. A friend defied me to cosplay for our date. A good friend. We get up to these pranks all the time. All the time.” I nod like a maniac, ignoring the pungent smell of my lies. “Yes. All the time.”
Summer takes another photo.
“What’s she doing here?” I’m not sure what’s more unsettling, my outfit or her scowl.
“This restaurant is ‘on brand’ for her socials. And she’s never been here.”
Now all I see is her disapproving stare. I try to be friendly, smile back, but I’m certain she can see how fake my grin is.
Milo takes me by the arm and leads me back to their table. “This is Grayson.”
She takes a picture of the two of us, then types.
“Are you going to say hello?” Milo asks her.
“Oh, sorry.” Summer rises and offers her hand. “Is this some new fashion? The forest folk look?”
I’ve just found a good use for my arrows. It’s a shame the waiter took them away.
I shake her hand.
“The colour is nice,” Milo says about the costume, without conviction. “If you texted me about the dare, I would have worn my Roman gladiator getup. And Summer has a seventies babe look which is pretty cool.”
She sniggers. “We could call ourselves Babe, Butch, and Bonkers.”
“Shall we look at the menu?” Milo asks. He gestures to the spare seat and before my butt lands on the chair, Milo shoves the menu in my face.
“Do they have steak?” I ask because I’m too self-conscious to read it.
“Boring.” Summer rolls her eyes.
“Yes, they do,” Milo replies. “With a red wine jus and balsamic roasted vegetables.”
“Perfect,” I say.
“I’m having the miso-glazed cod with coconut lemon rice, spinach and grape tomatoes.” She tops up her wine glass, then fills Milo’s. “And Milo is having the chicken breast with spicy sesame yoghurt, fennel baked carrots and buttered asparagus.”
Milo pours wine into my glass.
“I should go.” I look down at my tights and cringe at my pointy-toed boots. “This dare was a stupid idea.”
“Yes, it was,” Summer agrees.
“It’s charming.” But Milo’s lie smells like rotting fish.
It causes me to cough so I take a swig of my vino to get the stench out of my throat.
“What do you do for work?” Milo asks.
“Admin. Nothing interesting.”
“Ready to order?” a waitress asks.
“The steak, the glazed cod, and the chicken breast,” Milo replies.
“Would you like to hear the specials?” she adds, then recites them anyway.
But I tune out and instead, recall how Penelope promised she’d always be around to get me out of these predicaments.
So, where is she? Most likely on her third bottle of bubbly, conjuring up a man to meet her needs.
And I’m jealous. A one-night stand is a better choice than a snooty social influencer and a man I can’t impress.
The waitress leaves and I worry she’ll get our orders wrong because she didn’t write anything down.
“Grayson,” says Milo, and it quickly becomes evident he has said my name several times. “What’s on your mind?”
“The waitress didn’t ask how I like my steak.”
“Then it will be medium rare. That’s the default for steak. Any chef can tell you that.” Milo sounds judgy although I’m sure he doesn’t mean to. “What else do you dress up as?”
“This is my only cosplay outfit.” No odour appeared because technically, this is true.
But then I bury my face in my hands. It’s a symbolic way to excuse myself from this date without simply walking out.
And as I hear Summer murmur something bitchy, and Milo chuckle to downplay her words, I think of that character in that B-grade movie whose boyfriend turned into a beast. Once she slapped him across the face for wanting to strangle her, he cowered.
The inner human emerged, ready for romance.
And while she didn’t consider bestiality, preferring to find the antidote while he went on midnight murder sprees, it was the fact that she took charge which inspires me.
I raise my head. “Summer, Milo showed me your online coffee pics. Did you shoot any more? And Milo, did you find the coffee beans you needed?”
Summer beams. “I did a close up of the sun design a barista did with the froth, especially for me.” She shows me. “See, the sun has sunglasses.” She peers at the image. “Maybe I should use that as my banner?”
“Why not?” I reply. “It’s your brand.”
“Precisely.”
“Do you like coffee?”
“Grayson, that’s not the point. My followers love coffee and it’s important to let them know there’s a shortage of beans. I’m not just a pretty face. I provide community information.”
“I can see that. After coffee, what will your next series of posts be about?”
“Purple.”
“The colour?” I glance at Milo who has a mischievous grin Summer is unaware of.
“Yes. Of course, the colour.”
“Is it in season?” I grin back at Milo who quickly straightens his mouth.
Summer studies us. “Are you making fun of me, boys?”
“No,” I reply. “Obviously not. Why, my friend Penelope was wearing a fashionable long purple coat when I saw her today.” I look up, pretending to have a lightbulb moment.
“I have a cool pair of purple jeans if you want me to wear them for one of your shoots.” I catch Milo’s grin.
“Yes. That’s a great idea. If you’ll have me, Summer? ”
She places her hand on mine. “But I’m not sure you’re suitable for my brand. I don’t mean to be mean, but a guy who shows up in a leprechaun outfit—”
“I’m Robin Hood.”
“Whatever. But you see my point, Grayson. We’re at Venture and you look...”
“Adventuristic.”
“Touché,” Milo says.
“So, if I wore a stylish red shirt, army-inspired black jeans and funky red sneakers, would I be on brand?”
Summer turns to Milo.
“You know he would be on brand,” Milo replies. “Then you wouldn’t have a problem with him.”
Her lips tighten.
“I’d like to see you in that outfit,” Milo tells me.
“You almost did.”
Our food arrives. A waiter places the fish dish in front of Summer as a waitress positions the steak and the chicken in front of us boys. She hands me a serrated knife.
“Hold on.” Summer raises her phone. She snaps my steak. She checks the photo. “No. That won’t do.” She clutches my hand, the one I’m holding my knife with. “Grayson, don’t cut that steak!”
“Can I eat mine?” Milo asks.
“Go ahead,” she replies.
“But my dinner isn’t as inspired as what you ordered, Summer,” I say. “Have you decided to do a series on steak?”
She stands on her chair and takes a snap of my dish from above.
“Grayson needs to eat. This is no time for an aerial shot.”
“Humour me, Milo,” she says snidely. She’s either unaware other diners are watching her, or she doesn’t care.
“His food will get cold,” Milo tells her.
“But the shot isn’t right.”
“Grayson, eat your steak.”
“No. He can’t.”
“Is there a shortage of cattle?” I utter.
“Maybe.” She’s trying different angles from above.
“Isn’t that disinformation?” I inadvertently harden my grip on the knife.
“It’s accurate as soon as I post it.”
I carve my steak. Summer takes a couple more images as I eat. Then she sits.
“How’s your fish?” Milo sounds deadpan.
She digs in. “Delicious.”
“It’s not cold?” I ask.
Summer doesn’t answer. We eat without distraction.
––––––––
-MILO-
“I’m sorry about her behaviour,” I plead.
Grayson shrugs in response.
Summer left before dessert, leaving me with her part of the bill. She promised she’d pay her way but instead, she let me down. But hey, that’s nothing new.
Grayson is enjoying a slice of baked New York cheesecake with lemon myrtle sauce. I’m sinking my spork into a Persian love cake, with a few edible petals and a bit of fairy floss on the side.
“Tell me about Summer,” he says.
I’m fully aware why he’s asking, after the way she treated him.
“She’s okay once you get to know her.”
“Once she allows you to.” There’s sarcasm in his tone. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”
“Don’t mind her. She can be a bit prickly.”
Grayson raises a brow.
“Alright. She can be a handful. But she’s good to me.”
Now he’s staring, unconvinced.
“She’s the only way I can gain followers.”
Grayson puts his spork down.
“Hear me out,” I tell him. “You may see a gym-toned himbo—”
“I don’t think you’re a himbo.”
“But I’m not Summer. I don’t have as many followers and she is helping me be seen.”
Grayson looks wary. Maybe I didn’t explain myself too well.
“Influencers can be loved by thousands, maybe millions,” I say, but he still stares like I’m deluded.
“I’ll give you an example. Summer loved the birthday party I organised for her this year.
I hired our favourite cocktail bar and paid for the Turkish cuisine which everyone loved.
I was her number one that night, and made sure I photobombed most of the pictures she snapped.
There was a boost in my own follower numbers when I checked the next morning.
Two hundred and three new fans. I haven’t forgotten that exact figure. Mission accomplished.”
“But Milo, you’re enough.”
“What do you mean?”
He’s collecting his thoughts, and I’m not sure why I feel vulnerable.
“I thought I was punching above my weight when I accepted your invitation,” he says.
“I couldn’t understand what you saw in me, especially when you gave me one last look at your chest with a final striptease before you left the supermarket.
Let’s face it, I was an awkward mess when you met me, cereal boxes on the floor all around me. ”
“I was just as awkward. Especially with our stunted conversation.”
“I know we were both awkward when we met. But I had a reason.” Grayson pauses. Whatever was irking him at the supermarket is on his mind again, I’m sure. Now he’s grinning again. “I was awkward because a hot guy was coming on to me, but not succeeding.”
“Until my last striptease.”
“Yes.”
“Grayson, is that the only reason you were distracted?”
He gazes into the distance, and I already sense he’s not going to answer.
My phone notification goes off. Grayson smirks at Captain Picard’s catchphrase of ‘Make it so’. Does Grayson know it’s a Star Trek reference or did he just smile because it sounded funny?
There is a photo posted of me with Grayson.
“Did Summer text?”
I put my phone away. “It’s private.”
“So, it was Summer.”
I can’t show Grayson what she’s written online. Instead, I wave my fingers, showing off my ring. “Do you like it?”
“What did Summer say?”
“This was a gift from her. See, she’s not that bad.” I pull it off and hand it to Grayson, who doesn’t take it straight away. It’s sleek, silver, and has a rectangular emerald which doesn’t stick out above the band. It sits in the indent of the ring instead. I’ve always respected her style choices.
Finally, Grayson admires it. “That’s really nice.” He feels its weight, then opens his mouth but doesn’t speak.
“Say what’s on your mind,” I tell him.
“I can’t.”
“If it’s about Summer, that’s okay. She gave you a hard time so get some of your own back.”
I’m surprised I said that. But I guess I’m trying to bond. Or I’m still miffed at Summer not paying her share of the bill.
“Did she pay for the ring?” Grayson chuckles. “Or did a jeweller expect product placement on her feed?”
“In fact, she did pay for it.” I laugh too because Summer often pops product placements in her posts. “It was a thank-you gift for that birthday party I threw for her.”
Grayson hands it back. “Did Summer post something about me?” He grabs his own phone and looks for her profile. “What’s her surname?”
“She just uses her first name. Do you have Insta?”
Grayson shakes his head, but Summer’s account isn’t private. Grayson will be able to find it on a browser.
I wait for the fallout. It’s clear her Instagram posts have been found. Grayson is scowling. It’s a shame because our date was finally going well. So much so, I stopped noticing his cosplay outfit.
He reads, “Milo and some random who wouldn’t leave us alone at dinner. He even came with a bow and arrow. Did he think he was hunting his own meal?”
“That’s not too bad.”
“No, it’s not too bad until you read the comments. ‘The loonies come out at this time of year.’ ‘Did he threaten anyone?’ ‘Keep that man at a distance.’”
I shrug, even though it’s clear my date isn’t impressed.
“Thanks for dinner,” he says. “I’m going home if that’s okay with you.”
“Alright. Can I arrange an Uber?”
“No need.” Grayson stands and gives me a polite peck on the cheek.
“Can we try again?” I ask. “I won’t tell Summer where I’m going.”
“Perhaps.”
Grayson leaves without collecting his bow and arrows. I watch him march out the door, seeing him sneeze and...
Did Grayson’s outfit change?
Grayson may be out of sight but I’m sure he had a red shirt and black jeans on as he walked out of the restaurant.
Nah. I’m seeing things. It’s been a long day. After all, that was the exact outfit Grayson mentioned over dinner. Of course I imagined it.
But...?