#dipshit

You softly declined but thanked the waiter.

“You’re late.” The man commented as you sat down. “I hate waiting.”

“Well, then you shouldn’t have changed locations at the last minute. I was standing in front of the restaurant when you messaged me. I can’t fly, you know,” you snapped back. If not for your friends, you would’ve gladly left him there and then.

He finally put the menu aside to look you up and down. The man sighed deeply, as if you had offended him with your presence.

“What is it?” You asked, still debating whether to sit down or just walk out of the restaurant. “I haven’t even introduced myself, and you look like I ruined the date.”

“Nothing,” he replied, and grabbed the menu. “Please sit down. I don’t want people to start staring at us. I don’t know why I agreed to meet you.”

You huffed but sat down. Your stomach was empty, and you didn’t want to go hungry.

“Blind dates can be…” You tried to start a conversation, but he cut you off with a huff. “What is it now?”

“Nothing,” he said again, while you browsed the menu. “Just order food. I don’t want to wait any longer. I’m starving.”

You bit your tongue. It was no use to argue with a man like this. For your friends, you’d try to be polite and turn him down gently at the end of the night. If he were getting lucky, you’d pay for his meal too.

The waiter took your order while your date was busy scrolling on his phone. He checked on e-mails, ignoring your existence. You asked yourself once again—why are you even dating nowadays?

“Where’s my food?” He snapped at the waiter without taking his eyes off his phone. “I ordered twenty minutes ago.”

You couldn’t believe he changed the restaurant at the last minute and didn’t even wait for you to arrive.

Ordering your food, you tried to ignore the man’s stare. He was looking you up and down before he huffed. “I only agreed to meet up with you because my friend told me you are fit. You are far from being fit.”

His comment didn’t hurt your pride. You were by no means a fitness expert, but you did yoga, loved to jog, and hit the gym every few weeks or months. Whenever you find the time.

You wanted to tell him to get fucked, but the waiter arrived with your date’s food. Making a scene in front of the waiter who only tried to do their job was out of the question.

Before you could bring a word out, he continued. “I like slim and fit girls. Lazy couch potatoes are not my type.”

That did it. You slowly rose from your seat to look down at the arrogant piece of shit sitting across from you. “That’s great to know. I like a man with manners and depth, so we’re clearly not a match. I hope you soon find someone matching your awful character.”

He watched you walk away, grumbling under his breath. You could hear people near your table chuckle, and one of the waitresses even gave a thumbs-up.

“What a waste of time,” you said. “I should’ve stayed home.”

“Hey there, neighbor,” your new neighbor from next door said. He held the door open for you, offering a warm smile. “How was your evening?”

“A disaster,” you answered honestly.

“Work?” Andy offered.

“Bad blind date. My friends told me he’s a nice and smart guy,” you replied. Andy made a face when you told him about the man’s attitude.

“Did you at least eat?” He asked, looking at you with worried eyes. Andy watched you struggle to come up with a lie. “You didn’t eat.” He concluded, “How about you join me for dinner? I made more than enough.”

“I don’t want to ruin your night, too. You surely had better plans,” you tried, but Andy wouldn’t let you off the hook.

“Better plans than spending them with my lovely neighbor?” Andy whispered lowly. “Please don’t make me eat alone. After my divorce, I have been eating alone all the time. I’d love to have some company.”

You reluctantly agreed, offering to bring wine. Andy smiled, his hand gently brushing yours. “Take your time. Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Okay,” you breathed out. Andy was a handsome and sweet man. You heard through the grapevine that he went through a nasty divorce. His wife took the house, the son, and the car. “I’ll bring the wine.”

“Come as you are, that’ll be enough,” he replied, still with that stupidly sweet smile on his face.

You followed Andy inside the building and toward your apartment. He was walking next to you, casually chatting about your day until you reached your apartment.

“I’ll be there in an hour. Is that alright with you, Andy?” You asked. “I’d like to change into something more comfortable.”

“I’ll be waiting for you, Y/N.”

While you changed clothing and looked for the wine, Andy made a few calls. He hated nothing more than men treating a woman badly.

“Barber, what can I do for you?” The man on the other side of the line asked. He chuckled darkly and ran his index finger and thumb over his mustache. “I thought your wild days were over.”

“I need information about some dipshit messing with my woman,” Andy casually said, leaning back in his swivel chair. “They were dining at the new steakhouse in town. I already pulled the footage. I want everything. Every. Single. Detail.”

“Oh, we are playing dirty again?” Lloyd laughed into the phone. “Consider it done, Barber. After that, any request will cost you.”

“Of course…” Andy said. He hung up, looking at the monitors in his office. Rewatching the scene when you got up and knocked your date down a few pegs, he smirked. “A perfect match for me…”