"I'm not even your second choice, I'm not even in the top ten to you!" with Calum :)
The heels hurt too much. The dress was too tight. The makeup was clogging your pores. The purse was a nuisance in the crook of your elbow. All you wanted to do was sleep––crawl back home and sleep for as long as possible. More importantly, you just wanted to forget about that bloody date. It was horrid, from beginning to end.
(First, he sneezed into his hands and then wanted to shake your own hand. You politely refrained. Second, he only talked about his career and six–figure salary and his penthouse on Park Avenue. Dragged on about it all, really. Ten minutes into the dinner and you knew this wouldn’t be happening again. Ten minutes in and you could only imagine the stories you would be telling Calum once you came home.)