Hello! Sorry for the break, but juggling marching band, EYO, and personal problems is quite the handful. Concert season's started, so less practice and memorization, so more time for this.
Also, this story has hit 104 reads! It felt like a few days ago that I  had only one or two, so thank you so much!
Happy reading!

The restaurant was rather small, having only a handful of tables and chairs inside while two or three lay scattered outside. Even so, the place was packed to the brim with people. Couples used most of the smaller tables, while large families -- whose kids were running around everywhere -- took the large tables. That left only two or three overlooked booths, hidden behind the screaming children and the lovey-dovey dates.

Surprisingly, upon mentioning the name of my date -- a River Summerhill -- I was quickly shown one of these hidden booths. The table was almost bare, a menu and a few advertisements for other food items littered the surface, I noticed.

Quickly, my drink order was taken by a waitress who looked about ready to rip her hair out; I picked up a menu and scanned the cheaper food selections. Once or twice, I did look up to see if River had shown up yet, but I never did catch a glimpse of his reddish-brown hair. Nevertheless, I didn't worry. River was notorious for being late, even if it were a date.

Soon, the waitress -- whose name was Kelly, I quickly learned -- returned with my drink order. She asked me if I was ready to order; I asked for five more minutes, explaining that I was waiting on someone. She nodded and jogged off to another table, where I could hear the bickering of siblings.

Kelly checked back five minutes later, as she said she would. River has yet to show up. I asked for more time, telling the waitress that they've not shown up yet. She agreed and trotted off to take care of another table.

I twirled the red straw absent mindedly between my fingers, looking for River. His reddish-brown hair never came into my field of vision, and his stormy grey eyes never locked onto my own.

Kelly's been back three or four times now; I've lost count. She gently tells me I need to order. I nod and list off something cheap I saw on the menu. The waitress nods before heading off to the kitchen with my order.

I've seen the sympathetic glances shot my way by nosy customers; mothers and couples, sons and fathers. I hope they realize that I'm not blind. I hope they know that their sympathy is unwanted.

I rest my head in my hands, elbows propped atop the table. I know what River did. He's went and stood me up; made a fool of me. I should've known that it was all too good to be true. All their sweet promises and kind gifts, nothing but a lie; a ploy.

“I'm sorry I was late sweetheart; the traffic was absolutely terrible,” someone -- masculine, I noted -- said rather loudly before sitting opposite me in the booth. He flashed me an apologetic grin before adding in a quieter tone, “Just roll with it, okay? Your boyfriend's an absolute bastard to stand you up.”

I nodded in agreement, and gave him a thankful smile. He gave a rather happy grin in return.

“The name's Lockwood, if you wanted to know,” he remarked teasingly before flashing another grin.

“My name's Lucy. Pleasure to meet you,” I replied, before rather awkwardly sticking my hand out. I quickly retracted my arm after a minute and began to explain the situation sheepishly.