"It was pretty awesome, actually. I went with Hannah and it was really fun," Grant describes as we pack our books and laptops into our bags.

I nod, surprised, "Wow, really? The poster made it sound kind of lame. I'm glad it turned out great though, I have a feeling you and Hannah have a good thing going."

I recall seeing the background of his phone during class. It's a photo of him and Hannah, looking happy and blinded by love. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I find him already looking at me intently, "So what did you do the whole evening?" he asks.

With a shrug, I lead us out towards the exit, flitting my eyes briefly to Professor Hartley who sorts through stacks of paper at his desk.

"It was alright. I just stayed in my room and worked on the booklet; I actually made quite a bit of progress," I answer, happy with my decision to do so.

Today I managed to somewhat guide the class through the first couple pages. It took a lot of extra phrasing from Professor Hartley but we got there in the end and I conjured up a few coherent sentences.

"Wow, is Quorra Neversea turning into a nerd?" Grant gapes at me as I shove him into a group of students who walk past.

He stumbles to regain his footing, apologising to them before catching up to me again, "Chill, Quo," he laughs as I sigh.

"Professor Hartley already dislikes me for all the crap I've done, it's good that I'm actually trying now," I defend myself, although I have to admit that my evenings seem a lot bleaker now that I need to spend them catching up on work.

"Are you free tonight?" he suddenly asks as we step into the elevator and press the buttons for our floors.

I should probably do some of my English work since we have a project coming up in the coming weeks, but I deserve a reward for at least thinking about being productive, right?

"Yeah, why?" I give into my craving to let loose for the night as a smile stretches across his face.

"Want to come to dinner with Hannah and I?" he questions as I immediately raise an eyebrow.

"Isn't that kinda weird? - I don't want to be a third wheel. You go ahead and let me know how it goes."

He pouts, "Please? It'll be fun, and besides, we aren't that serious yet. It's just like we're friends right now, with a label slapped on us. You won't be a third wheel."

"Why do you want me to come? I don't know, Grant," I cross my arms, reluctant to volunteer for a night of awkwardness.

"It'll help make the atmosphere less stiff. It'll be a good time - the restaurant has amazing food," he convinces as I sigh.

One of the only successful methods to bribing a Quorra is food.

My weakness. I must go.

Besides, I want him to find love too.

"Fine," I agree, "If Hannah tells me to leave at any point though, I'm respecting that."

With a beaming grin, he steps out as the elevator arrives on his floor, "Meet you in the lobby at seven," he says, as the doors shut and separate us once again.

Oh boy.

I get myself into the weirdest situations.

At quarter to seven, to find myself in a dilemma. I don't own many other clothes apart from leggings, jeans, and oversized hoodies. What outfit do you even wear to a dinner with a couple? The more I think about this, the more strange it seems.

Dammit, Grant.

Deciding on dark jeans and a warm jacket, I tie my hair back and grab my phone, hurrying out the door before I can convince myself otherwise.

Grant is already downstairs by the time I arrive. I instantly repress an 'aw' at his choice of outfit. He definitely wants to impress her. His hair is combed back and he is clad in a sleek suit, the first few buttons of his white shirt left open and tieless.

"Hey, handsome," I tease with a laugh as I come to a stop next to him.

He turns and shoots me a sunken look, eyebrows upturned. It would be comedic but the tragic look in his eyes alarms me, "You okay?" I ask as he shakes his head.

"Hannah is sick, she can't make it," he informs, deeply upset as his gaze turns to the ground.

"Oh," I respond, lifting a hand to rest on his shoulder, "Don't worry, we can reschedule another time. You want to hang out in my dorm?"

With a shake of his head, he lifts his gaze, "We can still go. I made reservations already so it'd be rude to not show up."

As I'm about to decline, a look of determination sets his features alight, "Hannah would want us to."

Alright, calm down - she ain't dead. I slap my sassy attitude and conceal my internal battle with a fake smile.

"Sure," I agree, unable to deny the fact that dinner with a friend is a lot more bearable than dinner with a couple.

Then again, this 'friend' has admitted to wanting to kiss me before... so I'm screwed either way.

The brisk air sweeps past my cheeks as we head towards the restaurant. The sky is dim, a cool-toned wash of blue and purple plaguing its usual brightness. Our footsteps fall into synch as the hum of the people around us fill my ears like an unsung melody.

"The restaurant isn't too fancy, is it?" I question self-consciously, glancing down at my choice of outfit with regret.

Grant laughs and gives me a look, "No promises. I initially booked for me and Hannah, so the place is pretty..."

Don't say it.

"...romantic."

He said it.

"Oh," I nod, hoping I sound happier than I am, "I'm definitely underdressed then."

I start to care less as we continue walking, but as soon as the restaurant comes into view around the corner, my insecurity meter skyrockets like a missile into space.

"Jesus Christ, Ambience is only the most fancy restaurant in the country! Grant, you should've warned me," I sigh as we cross the road and walk towards the doors.

He simply chuckles and gestures for me to step in.

Instantly, I'm hit with a wave of warmth. It's the kind of warmth that thaws out your frozen limbs while filling you with the awkward feeling of one thousand eyes judging your every blink.

I find myself standing a little straighter and fixing a rebellious flyaway of hair as an older couple seated at a table opposite the entrance shoot me a snooty look.

Grant's voice distracts me from the judgemental sweeping of their eyes up and down my outfit, "Hi, reservations under Grant Lincoln."

The worker at the door offers a polite smile and taps away at the screen fixed to the wall. It takes a few seconds before he answers, "Ah yes. The table at the back is ready. Please follow me."

We are guided towards the back of the restaurant. Every gaze that lands on me carries a silent scoff, as if I am not worthy to breathe the same air as them.

As we take our seats and the waiter politely excuses himself, I take in the full environment. Every polished table is draped in a velvet cloth, the edges perfectly clean and unfrayed. The floor is lined with a regal carpet, an ambitious, pale colour that has managed to stay as perfectly spotless as the swirly designs creeping along the sides. I look up to see a sleek, white ceiling, the overhead lighting consisting of several crystal chandeliers that cast a gorgeous glow over the tables, setting the mood.

"Woah," I rub the back of my neck as I meet Grant's eyes again, "This is, uh, quite a restaurant."

Before he can speak a word, a server arrives at our table, small smile fit into place and hands folded behind her back elegantly.

She could be hiding a knife, ready to stab us. That smile means nothing. I narrow my eyes at her and try to peek around her to see if she is holding anything, before I actually realise what I'm doing.

I snap back into my place in my seat. This is a fancy place, Quorra. No pickpockets or murderers around every corner.

Composing myself, I hesitantly smile back at the server. Her shiny badge tells me her name is Marissa.

"Good evening, my name is Marissa and I will be your server today. May I take your order or do you need a little more time?" she asks, her gentle voice suiting her to a T.

I'm about to ask for more time when Grant beats me to it, "Actually, can we just order the chef's recommendation?"

Marissa smiles and nod, "Many ask for that. Tonight, he is recommending one of the newest additions to our menu, a stuffed chicken valentino with roasted red peppers."

We give her a nod and as she heads towards the kitchen to relay our order, I feel a hand cover mine.

I tense up and reluctantly meet Grant's eyes. With the reminder of his attempt to kiss me, the bubbling pit in my stomach grows more violent. Oh jeez.

"Thank you for supporting me and Hannah's relationship," he says with earnest eyes, strangely intense, "It means a lot because I think she's the one."

"Awww," I lay my free hand over my heart, glad that he isn't going to continue our almost-kiss, "That's adorable. You two are made for each other, I'm glad to help out a friend."

For some reason, he seems shocked by my response. The taken-aback expression plastered over his face dissolves quickly into a smile as he removes his hand and nods.

"I realise I don't know you very well. Do you want to play a game?" he asks, taking a sip of water from his tall glass.

I am so uncomfortable right now. This shouldn't feel so much like a date: we're meant to be friends. I force down a sigh and smile, agreeing, "Sure."

"Alright then," he begins, leaning a little closer, "What is your favourite kind of chocolate?"

I shoot him a questionable look, "That's a difficult one. Cadbury's is the best of course, and I think milk chocolate is something I could eat for a while and not get sick."

It's as if he is keeping a record of everything I say in a tiny clipboard in his head. I disregard the feeling and lean back against my chair to create some distance between us again. The aroma of gourmet food distracts me from the intensity in Grant's eyes.

"What are you looking for in a man?"

Well.

"Uh," I laugh awkwardly, "I don't really know. Appearance or personality?"

"Appearance."

Oh, drat. I could go one of two ways. The first is to describe a man who looks absolutely nothing like Grant to subtly tell him I'm not interested, and the second... well who cares, I'm going with the first.

"You know, dark hair and brown eyes paired with a charming smile. A reasonable height but not too much taller than me. Glasses are cute. Skin colour doesn't bother me. Abs are always a plus," I joke at the end, hoping he gets the message.

He must think I'm flirting (god knows how) because a cunning smirk slips onto his face as he leans back in his seat, "I'm sure your true love is closer than you think. Maybe you've already met him."

With every gram of resistance in my body, I manage a smile, "And maybe I haven't."

By the time we get back to the university, the sky is painted a dark  cobalt with tiny specs of twinkling stars illuminating the landscape. We walk back in a heavy silence, the usual chatter of town reduced to a barely-there whisper.

The food was as delicious as it sounded but I'm more than glad to be getting back to my dorm room. The night is only growing more stiff.

"This was..." I start as we step into the elevator, wrapped in a rush of warmth, "nice."

"Yeah," he grins widely as I direct my gaze to the front and try to relax every muscle in my face to avoid cringing as he adds, "We should do this again sometime."

"Oh no, I don't want to take any time away with you from Hannah. Let me know when Hannah gets-"

The elevator doors slide open and I immediately cut myself off. Who do I find but Hannah leaning against the wall with Martha-Malarky and several others.

The brunette at the front nudges the leader of their pathetic squad, muttering under her breath, "Look, Martha-May."

Four pairs of eyes scrutinise us. Despite it not being either of our floors, Grant and I step out of the elevator. It closes behind us, leaving the corridor in a pin drop silent staring contest.

"Grant?" I finally speak up, eyes still fixed on Hannah.

Did she seriously lie to him and feign sickness so that she could not come to dinner with him?

Grant seems to realise my thought process and surges forward to try and stop me as I stride towards Hannah with a venomous glare, "Oh god, Quorra, Quorra, sto-"

"What the fuck?" I narrow my eyes at her, scoffing at her almost genuine-looking expression of confusion, "You lie to Grant and tell him you're too sick to go to dinner with him when really you're here, alive and well, and hanging out with these faggots? What could possibly be your excuse?"

She physically stumbles back, as if my anger is radiating an unbearable heat, "W-what? Grant?" she looks to him for help.

I swear I see his head shake violently at her in the corner of my eye but as I turn to face him completely, he's standing still.

"Quorra, nice of you to visit," Martha-May-Shove-Her-Head-Down-A-Toilet giggles like a witch as I roll my eyes.

"Shut up," I disregard her quickly, completely infuriated with Hannah as I leave her with the words, "He actually likes you, you know. If you cared about him, you wouldn't do this."

With a scoff of disbelief, I march towards the stairwell, pulling Grant along with me.