Dating Game

Chapter 5: Dating Game.

Samantha’s POV

When I got to my apartment that evening, I slammed the door in anger. 

"Who the hell does he think he is?" 

I muttered, storming into my living room. I rummaged through my bag for my phone, my fingers practically shaking as I dialed Rosy's number.

Ring! Ring!! Ring!!!

Finally, she picked up, but before she could get a word in, I started. 

“I told you that guy looked like an arrogant prick! But no, you told me not to judge a book by its cover.” I huffed, kicking off my shoes and watching them skid across the floor before I dropped onto my couch, tossing my bag aside.

“Take a deep breath, Samantha,” Rosy said calmly on the other end.

I inhaled and exhaled, not once, not twice, but three times, trying to get my frustration under control. 

“Are you feeling any better now?” she asked gently.

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “Yeah,” I replied, leaning back on the couch and closing my eyes.

“Alright. Now, tell me what happened.”

“Oh, where do I even begin?” 

I let out a frustrated laugh, my mind replaying every miserable detail of the evening. 

“First off, he shows up forty minutes late. No apology, no explanation, nothing. He just waltzes in, looking all… ridiculously good unfortunately but with zero respect for my time.”

“Oh boy,” Rosy said, her tone half amused, half sympathetic. 

“What a catch.”

“Right? And then, get this: he orders for himself without even asking if I wanted anything!” I scoffed, shaking my head at the memory. “It was like he was on a one-man mission to make me feel like an afterthought. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he has the nerve to act bored the entire time. Like I was just some... inconvenience.”

“Wow,” Rosy said, the humor gone from her voice now. 

“I can’t believe he was that awful. He seriously sounds like a nightmare.”

“A total nightmare,” I agreed, gripping the edge of the couch cushion. 

“And then, when I called him out on it, he actually suggested that if I was so ‘bothered,’ I could just leave. Like he was doing me a favor by showing up at all!”

“Ugh, what a jerk,” Rosy sighed. 

“Did you at least get a chance to put him in his place?”

“Oh, you bet I did,” I said, smirking despite myself. “I told him I hoped we’d never cross paths again because if I ever see him, things will definitely get ugly. Then, I walked out of there without a second look.”

“Well, good for you!” Rosy cheered. “Honestly, it sounds like he got exactly what he deserved. And trust me, he’ll probably be haunted by you and that exit for a long, long time.”

“Let’s hope so,” I replied, sinking further into the couch. 

Rosy laughed softly. “See? Now you can look back and laugh… sort of?”

“Sort of,” I agreed, though I knew the memory of Julian and his arrogance would linger for a while yet.

“Look, Rosy, I know you mean well, but dating is just not for me,” I said, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I just want to focus on work, save up, and put everything I have into my art business. I don’t need a man to enjoy my Christmas holiday, alright?”

Rosy’s voice came through the phone, undeterred. “Samantha, come on. I know the first two dates were disasters, but what if the third or fourth one is better? You can’t just give up after a couple of rough starts!”

I rolled my eyes, though she couldn’t see it. “If the first two dates were disasters, then I’m pretty sure the rest will just be chaos waiting to happen.” 

I shook my head getting up from the couch. I walked over to the fridge and pulled out a cold bottle of water. Twisting the cap, I took a long sip, trying to calm myself down.

“Look,” she continued, “you don’t quit until you’ve tried all your options. Give the blind dates another chance, and if you go through all four and aren’t interested in any of them, then I’ll drop it. I promise.”

I took a deep breath, weighing her words. Surviving two more dates sounded torturous, but if it got her off my back for good, it might be worth it.

“So, you’re saying if I do these next two dates, I’m free?” I asked.

“Totally free,” she replied confidently. “You’ll never hear me mention it again.”

“Fine,” I said reluctantly. “One more round of your ridiculous matchmaking, and that’s it. No more Mr. Wrong.”

Rosy practically squealed in excitement on the other end. “I promise I’ll find someone worth your time this time! No disasters.”

“Good luck with that,” I muttered, settling back on the couch.

After I hung up, I tossed my phone onto the couch and took a long, deep breath, sinking into the cushions. 

How did Rosy always manage to rope me back into these things? Part of me knew I’d agreed just to get her off my case, but another part of me felt the faintest glimmer of curiosity, something I wasn’t about to admit to anyone, not even myself.

I looked around my small living room, glancing at the half-finished canvas propped up by the window. 

Maybe it was good that I’d at least given Rosy a final chance to prove her point. If anything, it would mean I could close this chapter and throw myself fully into my art, guilt-free, knowing I’d given it an honest try.

The next day, while I was working, my phone buzzed with a message from Rosy:  

“Okay, I set up your next date! His name’s Evan, and he works in finance. I thought you’d appreciate someone with a steady job, lol! Friday at 7?”

I smirked, shaking my head. She wasn’t holding back this time.

“Fine,” I replied, keeping it simple. I was already in too deep to turn back now.

By Friday evening, I found myself standing in front of yet another cozy little restaurant, taking a deep breath. 

I’d dressed simply but elegantly, my mind racing with all the reasons why this was a bad idea. But I knew I had to keep my end of the bargain.

Evan showed up right on time, well-dressed and polite, and within minutes, we were seated and ordering drinks. 

He was attractive, I had to admit, and his smile was genuine. For a while, things were going smoothly; he talked about his job, his love for hiking, and his slightly obsessive collection of vinyl records. It was pleasant, if a little predictable.

As the appetizers arrived, Evan leaned in, his tone suddenly intense.

“So, Samantha, what’s your plan after dinner tonight?”

I raised an eyebrow, caught off guard. “Uh… I’m not sure what you mean.”

He gave a sly smile and leaned back in his chair, shrugging. 

“Come on, Sam, I think you know exactly what I mean,” he said, as he raised his hand to flag down the waiter for the bill.

The gesture, combined with his smug tone, made everything clear. My stomach twisted with anger. 

“You piece of—” 

I muttered under my breath, barely loud enough for him to hear.

He didn’t flinch, still wearing that infuriating smirk as he looked back at me. 

“What’s the problem?” he asked, as if he were perfectly innocent.

I narrowed my eyes, unable to keep my voice steady. 

“Do you… do you really think I came here tonight for that? What do you take me for?”

His smirk faded a bit, but he still had that self-assured look in his eyes. 

“Look, let’s not make this complicated, Sam. We’re both adults, right?”

I shook my head in disbelief, feeling my patience evaporate. 

“First of all, it’s Samantha. And second, you’re unbelievable. I’m here for an actual date, not whatever you seem to think this is.”

I stood up, ignoring the people at nearby tables who were starting to look over.

“You know what? Keep your plans and your bill.” 

I tossed a few bills on the table to cover my half, grabbed my bag, and walked out without another word.

Outside, I took a deep breath, letting the cool evening air calm my nerves. I pulled out my phone, scrolling down to Rosy’s name when a voice behind me interrupted.

“I’m guessing your date didn’t go quite as planned?”