Thirty minutes gone into that evening's dinner date, both Ethan Grey and Scarlett had eaten half of the meal they both ordered.
They had requested for one of the simplest, yet tastiest French meals on the menu; grilled white sea bass fillets, with ratatouille composed of well diced vegetables, and olive oil drizzles. The meal was garnished with fresh lemon, sprinkles of parsley, and served with red wine.
It was the perfect meal served for a lady who intended to watch her weight and secure her curves, and for a guy who had experienced some form of allergic reactions in the past.
"This place is amazing. Where did you find it?" Scarlett asked as soon as she sipped from her glass.
The dining experience was almost perfect. The meal was one of the best things she had ever tasted, and the gentle music that played at a low volume added more depth and emotion to fill the room.
"It's highly rated on the internet," he responded.
"Wow!" She exclaimed. She began scanning the entire room, nodding her head impressively before her eyes fell on him again.
"You really went all out for this dinner," she said as she gestured with her hands, waving them around him from a distance as she referred to his well tailored suit.
At first he was dense, watching her hands waving in the air at his face. But when he watched the movement of her eyes, he realized she referred to his suit, and looked down with widened eyes and a wide grin on his face.
"Oh! You mean the suit," he started off with a soft chuckle as he continued, "Yeah! I like to make an impression."
He was proud, proud that his efforts for the night pulled off to dazzle her beyond words. On the other end, She laughed. She was impressed, if not completely blown off her feet. She had taken a certain liking to him as of that moment of the night— triggered by his sudden attractiveness in the suit, and his choice of restaurant and flowers.
"You look way different from the man that brews my coffee every morning," she added.
His eyes were fixed on his plate. Yet, upon hearing her words, he glanced at her for a short while. His cheeks burned red, blushing at her words and also at the way she stared and smiled at him. His brain went void of what to say at that point.
"Thank you," he responded with a smile.
"So...!" Ethan Grey broke the silence that hovered over them for a few seconds. "Chess. How did you become so good in such a complex game? Did you have a model or a hero?" He asked.
"Mmm," she swallowed before she continued, "Now I think about it, I can't think of anyone who's really famous for playing chess. You know, like other sports where we have LeBron James for basketball."
"So?"
With Ethan's question came a sudden switch in her demeanor. She went sober, eyes fixed on the table with a straight face, as though she was recounting a moment— a memory.
"My father," she started.
"Uhmmm, he wasn't obsessed about the game in such a way that you think it was hereditary," she chuckled briefly as she continued, "he just had this... I don't know... ideology. Every single time, he had this... culture to always reference the game with every single thing we did. With every mistake, or every loss, or every win, he always traced it back to the game. Told us some kind of proverbs or lines he made up after deep study of every piece of the game."
"I was fed up with listening," she continued with a chuckle.
She glanced at Ethan for a few seconds, with eyes peering into his. He was patient, keen, focused, intensely listening to every word she spoke with a countenance similar to hers, nodding with every statement made as though he could relate to them.
"So I started reading about the game. I read about every piece, and every movement being made. It transitioned into getting the game for myself and practicing every single day," she said again.
"Let me guess," Ethan cut in sharply in a low tone, "you weren't so concerned about the trophy or the prize money. You just wanted to test yourself"
"Every year, the best of the best come to prove themselves, and get the trophy," she replied.
"And as I played, I did see the truth in all that my father said. Most of them were making moves unconsciously, and they didn't see what was coming next. But I did, and I always used it against them," she continued.
"But you put up an incredibly perfect match that day. I was even scared to lose the trophy to another person..."
"Not until I moved that knight and gave you an opening to checkmate my king," Ethan Grey cut in the words, wearing a smile whilst nodding.
He spoke like one who was frustrated, yet still happy for the loss. He could hear Scarlett's soft chuckle from the other end of the table, and couldn't help but actually laugh as well.
"You're sulking over that loss, I can tell," Scarlett said.
Ethan leaned back on his chair, heaving off a heavy sigh as he stared at her.
"Personally I think that you are one of the best chess players I have ever come across," she said, with her tone dripping truth.
"But don't let that sink into your head. I still hold the trophy," she added, breaking the sober atmosphere with her laughter.
He was tickled. His arms were folded and placed on his chest, staring at her. He let her have all the fun and glory for the night, but still felt satisfied inside.
"You know, we should do this again," Scarlett gestured with her fingers.
"Oh! Yeah, totally," Ethan retorted without giving an extra thought. For another opportunity to spend this such time with her, he would give the world for it.
"But I'll pick the venue," she said to him. He halted for a while, with food stuck in his mouth, and eyes bulged out at her.
"Yeah! Sure," he blinked severally as he said, nodding and concurring.