Stella
The car ride home is awkward and silent. The radio plays some random pop song and I can barely bring myself to look at my date, who drives me back into the heart of the city, after a less than ideal date.
He was on his phone the entire time and ordered for me — a simple side salad with light dressing — while he ordered himself a feast. He was loud and disrespectful to the other patrons inside of the restaurant and I could not have been more embarrassed in that moment. Dante talked about himself the entire night and I could barely get a single word in, unless it was me complimenting something that he has done, then Dante was somehow very attentive and all ears to what I had to say.
The city lights pass us by in streaks of white and gold. My stomach grumbles on the inside of my che
