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‘Tell me about it.’ I continued walking and tried the ‘mind over matter’ method as I focused on the footpath ahead.
When we arrived at the trendy restaurant, we were greeted by the smell of herbed fries and aioli – the common after-nine-o’clock snack – and upbeat jazz music playing through the speakers. Deb walked over to the high table in the left corner of the room where everyone was chatting and pulled out a stool next to Victor, the underweight, near-thirty French waiter from work. The screech of the stool legs dragging across the floor brought Victor’s conversation to a halt. Deb took a seat while I scoped out the layout for a spare spot for myself.
‘How’s my favourite French boy doing?’ Deb kissed him on the cheek as the light bathed the hollows of his collarbones.
‘Bonsoir, Deb. Have you ordered a wine yet?’ He turned his pasty face to her with raised eyebrows and flashed his chip-toothed smile, which quickly turned into a frown as he looked at his empty glass. ‘As you see, mine is empty.’
‘No, Vic, I haven’t, but I’ll be sure to shout my favourite French boy a wine.’ She beamed. ‘A sauv blanc?’
He nodded.‘Oui.’
‘Time for a beverage, then.’ She winked as she hopped off her stool and walked over to the bar, too eager to get her drinks to bother waiting for table service.
I sat on the stool on the end next to Deb’s and said hello to Kelly, the female sous chef from Mon Amour, who was opposite me and one seat down, leaving an empty chair in front of mine.
‘Hey, chicken,’ Kelly, said giving me her usual masculine nod. Every time I looked at her, I got distracted by the Madonna piercing above her naturally pigmented red lips. You couldn’t miss her – without a doubt, she stood out in any room. Well, her blue hair and orange foundation did, anyway. She was lucky she didn’t have green hair or she’d pass as an Oompa Loompa for sure.
‘Hello, Pi— I mean, Naomi,’ Martin, who was beside her, interjected with a sly grin.
He was a lanky, flat-haired man in his late twenties who happened to be the other sous chef of our kitchen.
‘Hello to you again, Martin.’ I nodded, glad he stopped himself from saying what he was about to.
Kelly and Martin had finished off a bottle of sauvignon blanc already, and they returned to their previous conversation about meat cuts.
I rested my chin on my palm and half-listened as the conversation murmured. My eyes watered and a yawn stretched across my face as I tried to ignore the aches and cramps tearing through both of my feet.Oh goodie. What’s better than one ache? Two aches!
Deb returned with two glasses of wine. She perched herself back on the seat beside me and slid one glass to Victor.
Minutes later, Kelly waved the waiter to the table so she could get another bottle, and I ordered a vodka and lemonade. Deb took advantage of the waiter being there and upgraded her glass of wine to two bottles of pinot grigio.
The drinks came out, quicker than expected, and just as I was about to check my iPhone for any messages, I caught a whiff of a familiar scent: a woodsy, musky cologne. Sebastian, the man I was about to text, pulled out the stool directly in front of me, his denim jacket slung over his shoulder, half-grinning as he got comfortable.
Sebastian’s curly hair was gelled back, and his eyes looked lighter than the usual russet brown. He was my definition of sun-bronzed skin and pearl-white teeth.
Deb nudged me as she caught sight of Sebastian, flashing me a sassy smile while raising her eyebrows. She turned back to Victor, and her sleek auburn hair bounced as she laughed at her own jokes.
Sebastian greeted me with a cheeky grin. ‘Well, hello, gorgeous,’ he said with his eyes fixed on my face.
I gave him a pained smile and tried to ignore my aching feet. ‘Hey, Seb. I was just about to text you.’
‘Well, lucky I’m here now.’ His eager eyes gleamed under the warm glow of the lights above. ‘Have you been missing me, you cute little twenty-five-year-old?’
‘Maybe.’ My cheeks bloomed red. ‘And hey, twenty-five isn’t little.’ I shot up a playful but defensive brow.
He chuckled. ‘Fuck, you’re cute. And, fuck, I love what you’ve done to your hair.’ His gaze lingered on my fresh blonde hair styled in a low bun.
I laughed and looked around the room at the other diners, who were snacking on calamari, cheese platters, and pizza. The drink of the night seemed to be either a Cosmopolitan cocktail or a glass of wine.
‘You’re not bad yourself, Seb.’ I winked and swallowed a mouthful of vodka lemonade.
‘You weren’t that blonde two weeks ago, I swear. Has my little snow angel been in the sun?’
I shook my head. ‘Nope, all artificial, sadly, and as you can see, I’m still as white as milk.’Okay, wow, these boots seriously need to come off.
‘So that’s what you get up to on your days off when I’m not around, eh? Pamper days at the salon?’ He raised one of his perfectly arched brows.
‘Tuesdays, I tend to indulge, and you can’t say I’m the only one who goes to the salon. Surely you get your eyebrows done somewhere?’ I stared at his brows, holding back a playful laugh.
