Worst Date Ever

I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, holding a tube of lipstick that looked like it belonged to a teenager going through a rebellious phase. Bubblegum pink. Glossy. The kind of shade that tries to scream, “I’m fun!” but actually just screams, “I’m trying too hard!” Evie had left it here months ago during one of her many sleepovers, and now it was my weapon of choice for Operation: Ruin This Guy’s Night.

I smeared it on, smacked my lips together, and immediately regretted it. I looked like a cartoon character. Perfect.

“Okay, Soph,” I said to my reflection, which looked back at me with a mix of panic and mild amusement. “You’re not Soph tonight. You’re Evie. And Evie is… well, let’s just say Evie is a lot.”

I adjusted the strap of the sparkly top Evie had forced me into earlier. It was tight, itchy, and had more sequins than a disco ball. I felt like a walking glitter bomb. Evie had insisted it was the perfect way to ensure I didn’t get asked on a second date. but I was pretty sure it was just her idea of a practical joke.

I glanced at the list I’d scribbled on the back of a receipt earlier that day. Evie had helped me brainstorm it, and by “helped,” I mean she cackled maniacally while I wrote down her increasingly unhinged suggestions.

Talk excessively about your cat. (I don’t even have a cat. Evie said to make one up. “Call him Mr. Whiskers,” she’d said. “He’s bound to think you are a crazy cat lady with a cat called Mr. Whiskers.”)

Order the most expensive thing on the menu. (And then complain about it. “Say it’s too salty,” Evie advised. “Men hate it when you say things are too salty.”)

Mention your ex at least three times. (Bonus points if you cry. “But not, like, full-on sob,” Evie clarified. “Just, you know, a single tear. Very dramatic.”)

Chew with your mouth open. (This one made me physically cringe but Evie said it was non-negotiable.)

Be too enthusiastic about astrology. (“Tell him you can’t date Geminis,” Evie said. “Even if he’s not a Gemini. Just say you don’t trust them. It’s a red flag.”)

I folded the list and tucked it into my purse, right next to my phone, my keys, and a granola bar I’d stashed in case of emergency. (Hey, sabotaging a date is hard work. A girl’s gotta keep her energy up.)

As I slipped on the heels Evie had loaned me (black, strappy, and approximately two sizes too small) I couldn’t help but feel a tiny thrill. Sure, I was about to pretend to be my best friend and intentionally ruin some poor guy’s night, but… it was still a date. And it had been a long time since I’d been on one.

Living in a small town meant dating opportunities were about as common as a unicorn sighting. The last guy I’d gone out with had spent the entire date talking about his collection of vintage spoons. (Yes, spoons. Not even the cool kind. Just… regular spoons.) So, yeah, even a fake date was kind of exciting.

“Stop it,” I scolded myself, wobbling slightly as I stood up. “You’re not there to have fun. You’re there to ruin his night. Remember that.”

I took one last look around my flat, my cosy little sanctuary. The books piled on the coffee table, the half-finished knitting project on the armchair, the faint smell of lavender from the candle I’d lit earlier. It was safe here. Predictable. But tonight, I was stepping out of that comfort zone, even if it was under false pretences.

I grabbed my coat and headed for the door, pausing to give my cat-less apartment a dramatic farewell. “Goodbye, Mr. Whiskers,” I said to no one in particular. “Wish me luck.”

The walk to the restaurant was only ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity. My heels clicked loudly on the pavement, and I was pretty sure I looked like a baby giraffe learning to walk. Every step was a battle between me and gravity, and gravity was winning.

As I walked, I rehearsed my lines in my head. Hi, I’m Evie. I’m a Leo, which means I’m basically a lion. Rawr. Also, my ex used to buy me flowers, but they were always the wrong colour. Do you know how traumatizing that is? Oh, and I have a cat named Mr. Whiskers. He’s my soulmate.

I was so busy practising my monologue that I almost walked right past the restaurant. The sign glowed in the dim evening light, and I paused, my heart pounding in my chest. This was it. The point of no return.

I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and plastered on my best Evie-esque smile. (Evie’s smiles are always 20% charm, 30% mischief, and 50% chaos. I was aiming for at least 10% chaos, but I’m not sure I nailed it.)

As I pushed open the door, I reminded myself of the mission: make this guy regret ever agreeing to this blind date. But as I scanned the room, looking for a man who matched the vague description Evie had given me (“He’s tall, I think? Maybe has hair?”), I couldn’t help but wonder…

What if he was nice? What if he was funny? What if, despite my best efforts, he actually liked me?

“Stop it,” I muttered under my breath. “You’re Evie tonight. And Evie doesn’t overthink things. Evie just… wrecks them.”

I spotted him sitting at a table near the window. Tall, with dark hair, wearing a suit that looked like it cost more than my rent. He was scrolling on his phone, looking effortlessly handsome and completely unaware of the disaster about to befall him.

I took a deep breath, adjusted my sparkly top, and marched over to the table.

The worst date ever was about to begin.

I approached the table, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure the entire restaurant could hear it. Andrew who was tall, dark-haired, and unfairly good-looking, looked up from his phone and smiled. It was a polite smile, the kind you give someone when you’re not sure what to expect but you’re trying to be nice anyway.

“Hi,” I said, my voice squeaking slightly. “I’m Evie.”

“Andrew,” he replied, standing to shake my hand. His grip was firm, his hands warm, and I immediately felt guilty for what I was about to do.

I sat down, smoothing the sequined monstrosity of a top I was wearing, and tried to remember the plan. Talk about Mr. Whiskers. Complain about the food. Cry about your ex. But as I looked at Andrew with his kind eyes and slightly awkward but endearing smile, the words stuck in my throat.

“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Evie. What do you do?”

I froze. Evie had told me to keep things vague, but I hadn’t prepared for this. “Oh, you know,” I said, waving a hand dismissively. “Stuff.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Stuff?”

“Yeah, just… stuff. Like, uh, hobbies. And things.” I cringed internally. Stuff? Things? I sounded like a malfunctioning robot.

He nodded slowly, clearly trying to make sense of my nonsense. “Right. Well, I’m a solicitor. Mostly corporate law, but I do a bit of pro bono work on the side.”

“Oh, that’s… cool,” I said, nodding like an overenthusiastic bobble head. “Lawyers are… important.”

Andrew chuckled, but it was the kind of chuckle that said, I have no idea what to do with you. “Thanks. I like to think so. What about you? Any passions? Interests?”

I opened my mouth to say something about Mr. Whiskers, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I blurted out, “I like… books?”

“Books are great,” he said, clearly trying to keep the conversation alive. “What kind do you like?”

“Oh, you know. The ones with… words.”

Andrew stared at me for a moment, then laughed. It wasn’t a mean laugh, but it was definitely a what is happening right now laugh. “You’re not much of a talker, are you?”

“I’m more of a… listener,” I said, which was technically true, since I was too busy panicking to say anything coherent.

The waiter came by to take our orders, and I seized the opportunity to steer the conversation away from myself. “I’ll have the most expensive thing on the menu,” I said, remembering Evie’s instructions.

Andrew raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “I’ll have the steak,” he said, handing the menu back to the waiter.

Once we were alone again, Andrew leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “So, Evie, tell me something about yourself. Anything. What’s your favourite colour?”

“Purple,” I said automatically, then immediately regretted it. Evie hated purple. She said it was “too basic.”

“Purple’s nice,” Andrew said, clearly trying to be supportive. “What do you like about it?”

“It’s… purple?” I said, my voice rising in a way that made it sound like a question.

Andrew sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’ll be honest. This date wasn’t exactly my idea. My mom set it up, and I figured, why not? But I didn’t think it would be… like this.”

I felt a pang of guilt. “Like what?”

“Like pulling teeth,” he said bluntly. “I’m trying here, but it’s hard to have a conversation when the other person isn’t saying anything.”

I opened my mouth to apologize, but he held up a hand. “I’m not trying to be rude. I just think, even if this wasn’t either of our ideas, it doesn’t mean we have to be rude to each other.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. He was right. I was so focused on sabotaging the date that I hadn’t even considered how it might feel to be on the receiving end of my awkward silence and half-baked answers.

I took a deep breath, pushing aside the guilt and the panic. “You’re right,” I said, surprising myself with how steady my voice sounded. “I’m sorry. I’ve just… had a weird day.”

Andrew’s expression softened. “It’s okay. We all have those.”

The waiter arrived with our food, and I stared down at the ridiculously expensive lobster I’d ordered. It looked delicious, but I couldn’t bring myself to complain about it like I was supposed to.

“So,” Andrew said, cutting into his steak. “Tell me something real. Anything. What’s the weirdest thing that’s happened to you this week?”

I hesitated, then decided to go for it. “Okay, so I accidentally locked myself out of my flat this morning. In my pyjamas. I had to borrow my neighbour’s ladder to climb in through the window.”

Andrew laughed, a genuine, full-bodied laugh that made me smile despite myself. “That’s amazing. Did anyone see you?”

“Just the postman,” I said, grinning. “He gave me a thumbs-up.”

Andrew shook his head, still laughing. “Well, at least you made his day.”

As we ate, the conversation flowed more easily. I told him about my neighbour’s cat, who liked to sit on my windowsill and judge me, and he told me about his sister’s dog, who had once eaten an entire loaf of bread off the kitchen counter.

For the first time all night, I felt like myself. Not Evie, not the awkward mess I’d been pretending to be, just Soph. And even though I couldn’t tell him the truth about who I really was, I decided to enjoy the moment.

After all, it wasn’t every day you got to have dinner with a handsome solicitor who didn’t seem to mind that you’d spent the first half of the date acting like a malfunctioning robot.

The worst date ever had turned into… well, not the worst.

Delete Created with Sketch.

The night ended with Andrew and me standing outside the restaurant, the cool evening air wrapping around us like a blanket. The streetlights cast a warm glow, and for a moment, everything felt… perfect.

“I had a really good time,” Andrew said, his hands tucked into his pockets. He looked at me with a soft smile, and I felt my stomach do a little flip.

“Me too,” I admitted, surprising myself. “I mean, after the whole… awkward start.”

He laughed, the sound low and warm. “Yeah, well, I’m glad you decided to stop giving me the silent treatment.”

I winced. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” he said, shrugging. “It made for a good story. And honestly, I like that you’re not… what I expected.”

I wasn’t sure whether to take that as a compliment or not, but I decided to go with it. “Thanks. I think.”

Andrew hesitated, then said, “We should do this again. Maybe next time without the… interrogation.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

He smiled, and for a moment, I thought he might lean in for a kiss. Instead, he just said, “Goodnight, Evie,” and turned to walk away.

I stood there for a moment, watching him go, before heading back to my flat. The walk home was a blur of thoughts and emotions. I couldn’t believe how well the date had gone, after the initial disaster, anyway. Andrew was funny, kind, and surprisingly easy to talk to once I stopped trying to sabotage everything.

But then reality hit me like a ton of bricks. He thought I was Evie. And no matter how much I liked him, I couldn’t keep pretending to be someone I wasn’t. Could I?

I shook my head, trying to clear the thought. One step at a time, Soph. You’ll figure it out.

When I got back to my flat, I was surprised to find the lights on. I opened the door to see Evie and her boyfriend, Liam, standing in the middle of the living room. Boxes were scattered everywhere, and Evie was holding a stack of books, looking like she was in the middle of packing.

“Soph!” Evie said, dropping the books onto the nearest box. “How was the date? Did you ruin it? Please tell me you ruined it.”

I hesitated, glancing at Liam, who was lounging on the couch with a bag of crisps. He gave me a lazy grin and a thumbs-up.

“Uh… it was… good,” I said, cringing as soon as the words left my mouth.

Evie’s eyes widened. “Good? What do you mean, good?”

“I mean, we had a nice time,” I said, trying to downplay it. “He’s actually really sweet. And funny. And—”

“Oh no,” Evie interrupted, holding up a hand. “No, no, no. This is not good. This is the opposite of good. You were supposed to scare him off, not… whatever this is.”

“Relax, babe,” Liam said, crunching on a crisp. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“Not the end of the world?” Evie repeated, turning to him. “She went on a date with a guy who thinks she’s me! What happens if he wants to see her again? What happens if they get serious? What happens if—”

“If that happens then she will just have to change her name to Evie?” Liam interrupted, grinning.

Evie and I both stared at him.

“What?” I said.

“It’s not a big deal,” Liam said, sitting up. “If things get serious, just change your name or tell him you’ve decided to go by your middle name. Problem solved.”

Evie looked horrified. “That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

“Is it, though?” Liam said, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, people change their names all the time. My cousin changed his name to ‘Thor’ last year. No one even questioned it.”

“That’s because your family is weird,” Evie said, but she was starting to smile despite herself.

I shook my head, laughing. “I’m not changing my name to Evie.”

“Why not?” Liam said, shrugging. “It’s a good name. Strong. Classic.”

“It’s my name,” Evie said, crossing her arms. “And I’m not sharing it.”

“Fine,” I said, holding up my hands. “I’ll figure something out. But for now, can we just… not panic?”

Evie sighed, flopping down onto the couch next to Liam. “Fine. But if this blows up in your face, I’m saying I told you so.”

“Deal,” I said, grinning.