I looked myself over in the watermarked bathroom mirror. It was about the umpteenth time that, so far short, evening that I'd gone to check on my reflection. I'd got dressed up for the 'date' with Leon way too early and, by the time seven had finally arrived, I was certain I was past my best. My dress had started to wrinkle, I'd reapplied my rose pink lipstick at least three times and my new shoes had already started to make my feet ache.

 I had stopped kidding myself several hours earlier that I wasn't nervous about the upcoming evening, so my over-eager preparedness was understandable, albeit still rather frustrating. Butterflies had raged in my stomach ll day long but, as I paced the floor in my tiny studio flat waiting for Leon to arrive, butterflies had escalated into blind panic.

 I'd always had a rather active internal monologue, but that day I'd had so many little voices niggling and questioning my decision about this date that I was almost diagnosing myself with multiple personality disorder. One thing all the voices had in common though, they all seemed to think that it was a bad idea.

 I kept looking, guiltily, over at the textbooks I'd piled, haphazardly, on my rickety end table and tried not to think about the practice literature papers that were due the following morning, or the linguistics essay my Professor had been dogging me about for a week. I was already behind because of the hours I'd been putting in at the club, I really shouldn't waste one of the few free evenings I had by going out on a date. This voice had some merit, but it's argument was all too easy for me to quash. I was so used to putting off school work it was all to easy for me to neglect. Besides, when did I ever get the chance to go out and socialise any more?

 Quieting one voice only made way for another, who would come at me with a different angle on the situation. You barely know anything about this man, why on earth would you agree to go out with him? You met him at work, surely that couldn't have been a good indication of his character? You gave a man you'd just met your address, told him the place where you live all by yourself, and now you're willingly waiting for him to arrive and actually feeling some excitement about the prospect? What the hell is wrong with you Sarah?

 I sat down, suddenly, on my clothes strewn bed, still littered with all of the casualties from my outfit selection, and tried to stop thinking so hard. I looked over the contents of my wardrobe and supposed I really should have tidied them away, Lord knew I'd had the time considering how early I was ready; but I didn't. It wasn't like it would matter, I wasn't the sort of girl who would invite a man she'd just met home with her after their first date, but it would prove to be a hindrance to sleeping later on. It would have been some distraction too, but I had little to no motivation for the task.

 I sunk my chin into my hands and groaned. Even thinking about my mess of clothes couldn't quiet the nagging voices in my head.

 “Oh, just shut up!” I hissed at myself, “The sort of luck I usually have, he probably won't even turn up anyway!” I concluded as I glanced at the clock and saw that ten past seven crept ever closer.

 He was late, and Leon hadn't struck me as the sort of man that would usually be late. He wasn't coming, it had to be a sign. Perhaps it had all just been some big ruse, some kind of initiation at the club, get a poor girls hopes up and then crush her so she would what? Work extra hard the next night to try and earn herself another date with a strange? No, somehow that didn't seem very likely. But, either way, it still didn't look like Leon was coming.

 I started to consider cracking open one of my textbooks - might as well do something productive with my night, I'd figured, rather than waiting in some vain hope that I might actually be able to salvage some kind of social life from the mess that was my existence. I'd sighed and reached for my first book, concluding that I really should not have hoped for anything from some random man I'd picked up at work, when a sharp knock at the door made me jump.

 He'd actually turned up?

 I could feel my heart start to beat a frantic rhythm inside my chest. If my nerves and eagerness for that evening had been warring the whole day, then this was their penultimate battle and it was reaching a crescendo; and I froze. I didn't know what to do.

 I'd managed to convince such a big part of me that he wasn't going to show up that his presence outside my door had actually come as quite a shock. Another part of me was overcome with with terror. Really I knew nothing about this man save for his name, my brain had been in complete work mode when I'd accepted his invitation and told him where I lived, and I was about to go out, alone, with him?

 Just answer the door. You're all dressed up and ready to go! I tried to tell myself. Besides, of all the people I had 'met' through work, Leon was by far the most normal of them. What was I so panicky about? I tried to reason it was because I'd hadn't been on a proper date since my first year of sixth form college, almost three years back, and that guy I'd known for some months from my English Language Class. But you don't know anybody the first time that you meet them. Relationships have to grow, and they don't do that if you avoid the people that want to build them with you.

 I took a deep breath, smoothed the wrinkles out of my dress – thankful that its black colour seemed to hide the worst of them – and made for the door. I pulled it open, only wide enough to show myself in the gap, and smiled, shyly, at Leon.

 “For a moment there I didn't think anyone was going to answer.” He said in greeting. A smile brightened the hard features of his face and gave it a softness that was calming to see.

 “Sorry, I was...ah...just in the ...bathroom.” I stalled over my excuse as I tried to let the nerves wash over and out of me. He was actually there, he still looked nicely normal, what exactly had I been panicking so much about again?

 “Couldn't decide whether or not you should actually answer the door?” He said brightly, the smile curving wider and I could have sworn I saw a twinkle of amusement in his dark eyes.

 I moved my mouth, forming soundless words, unable to find any counter for just how astute and accurate he had been in his assumption. But, thankfully, Leon held up a hand to stop me; not that any words had actually come to mind.

 “Don't worry, It's only natural to be a little anxious. I realise how strange it must have been, my asking you out. The exact circumstances of our meeting all being considered.”

 I smiled meekly. He may have more than hit the nail on the head and reassured me that it was okay my feeling like that, but that still didn't stop me from feeling somewhat embarrassed.

 “Yeah, I suppose.” I said lamely. “So, um, are you going to tell me where exactly it is that we're going?” I asked, wishing to change the subject.

 “For dinner.” He replied, a sly smile still curling his lips. But Leon relented as a frown of annoyance furrowed my brow. “Okay, I thought I would take you to Midsummer House. My favourite restaurant the city.”

 “Sounds fancy.” I said, looking over my simple black shift dress and hoping that I wasn't going to look glaringly out of place; my wardrobe didn't have my call for cocktail dresses or flowing ball gowns.

 “You look fine.” Leon said suddenly, as if reading the apprehension in my face. “Simple and elegant, just what this place calls for.”

 Somehow, I wasn't entirely convinced as I grabbed my matching black clutch purse off the kitchen counter and took Leon's arm. Next to him in his impeccably tailored linen suit and dark gold button down shirt, perfect for spring the magazines would say, I couldn't help but feel that I paled in comparison.

 He led me to his black BMW that was waiting at the curb, even the car looked strikingly out of place on my dingy little street. Though a small part of me had been expecting something chauffeur driven, I was nice to see that the evening wasn't going to be quite that grand.

 I slipped, with some trepidation, into the black leather seat and felt a tightness clutch at my chest as the door thumped closed beside me.

 Well, there was certainly no turning back now.