“Seriously, Amy, I don’t need - ” Amber stops when Amy puts her hands on hips and gives her what can only be described as a menacing glare.

“Amber Liu Yi Yun, you have hooked up with four different guys in three different clubs in the span of two days. It’s becoming ridiculous,” Amy says, sounding like a mother scolding a child.

Amber whines as she flops across the couch. “So what? It’s not like I want a relationship now anyway - ”

“Amber, you are so desperate for a relationship, you’re becoming delirious,” Amy deadpans. “So just go to this dinner, or I am not letting you back into this apartment tonight.”

“I have the key, you can’t lock me out,” Amber protests.

Amy gives her another look as she grabs her jacket. “Don’t try me, Amber,” she says. “I’m going now. Remember, the table is booked under Eric’s name, so they should lead you to the right table.”

“I still can’t believe you have set me up on a blind date with one of Eric’s friends,” Amber cries, flailing about on the couch.

“Seven o’clock, Mrs Kwan’s kitchen~” Amy sing songs as she gets her keys and skips out the door.

Amber huffs as the door closes and folds her arms across her chest as she lies on her back. She won’t go. There’s no way she’s going to go on this stupid date, with one of stupid Eric’s stupid friends to eat stupid fancy food.

But as Amber glances at the clock - telling her she has fifteen minutes before she has to leave, if she does go - she thinks maybe, just maybe, Amy is right. (It burns her to admit)

Ever since her breakup seven months ago…..

Amber shakes her head. She can’t think about him anymore. She does know she’s been a mess since though, and this is Amy’s way of trying to help (even if Amber thoroughly disagrees with it)

Twelve minutes until she has to leave. Amber heaves heavy sigh. At least she’ll get nice food, she thinks, and maybe not even have to pay for it, if the guy believes in being gentlemanly and kind of ist and paying for her meal.

Grumbling the whole way, Amber goes to her room to find semi-nice clothes.

Amber feels incredibly underdressed. She turned up at the restaurant in her nice jeans and a top that she’s borrowed from Amy a couple of times before, but as she waits for someone to show her to a table, she can see that everyone here is in suits and ties, and dresses with heels. Amber scuffs her shoes against the wooden tiles. They look out of place too.

“Can I help you, miss?” someone asks. Amber offers a tense smile. At least they didn’t say ‘sir’.

“Uhm, booking under Eric Nam?” Amber asks, almost wishing for them to say there’s no booking, and she’s got the wrong place, and oh well, she can just go home and watch Netflix.

“This way, please,” Amber internally groans as she follows the person to the table.

When she realises it’s the one with the guy already sitting there, Amber feels herself tense up. She doesn’t remember how to ‘date’. She was with…. him so long that it became almost natural - there was no flirting or awkwardness.

“Your table, miss,”

The guy looks up as the waiter speaks and Amber locks eyes with him for a moment. His hair is a brown that’s bordering on orange, but it doesn’t look weird, in fact it’s kind of familiar. He breaks into a bright smile and his eyes kind of disappear, and Amber finds it kind of cute. Oh.

“Hi, Amy’s friend, right? I’m Henry,” he says, offering a hand over the table.

Amber takes it, trying for a warm smile. “Amber,” she says.

They shake hands, Henry’s warm hand completely enveloping her hand that now seems small, before taking their seats. The waiter hands them menus and then leaves them.

“The bread is really good,” Henry says almost instantly, offering her the basket of baked goods.

“Oh,” Amber says dumbly, “uhm, thanks,” she says as she takes one.

Henry grins again and Amber’s heart flutters. Except she’s kind of sure she’s seen that smile before. She dismisses it. She’s met so many people at so many parties and clubs the last few months, he’s probably just reminding her of someone.

They both peruse the menu and tell the waiter their orders.

“So Henry, what do you do?” Amber asks as she puts her menu away

“Interior architecture formally, music stuff on the side,”

“Performing or creating?” Amber asks, intrigued.

“Er, a bit of both?” Henry says, a little bashful. “I make music, but that’s more for myself. I DJ sometimes?”

“That’s pretty cool,” Amber murmurs. Her heart is trying to suppress all the butterflies. Why does Henry have to fit her idea of a perfect guy?

“So what about you?” Henry asks, offering her more bread.

Amber beams. A guy who doesn’t mind feeding her. Henry is doing amazing so far. She takes one happily. “I’m a dance teacher at the moment, but I’m trying to find a researcher position,”

“Researcher?”

Amber swallows her bread before continuing. “Yeah, I, uh, studied molecules and stuff, got my PHD last year,”

“Then why dance now?”

“Side job while I was in college, plus it’s fun,” Amber says through a mouthful of bread. She belatedly realises this is completely unladylike.

Henry smiles, not seeming to care. “That’s pretty cool.”

Amber coughs a little, embarrassed. “Uhm, thanks,”

She’s saved from further embarrassment by their food arriving.

Conversation flows pretty easily over dinner and pretty soon they’re splitting the bill. Henry did offer to pay, but said he also didn’t want to hurt her pride. Amber had smiled, happy at the offer, but happier at the acknowledgement of letting a girl pay for her meal too.

Afte