Simon sat at the table alone, fifteen minutes early. He was already regretting this. Soap had set him up on a date with a friend of his, and like an idiot, Simon had let him talk hi into showing up.

He sighed, sipping his drink and glancing around the nice restaurant. What was he doing here? He should go. Text his date that he couldn't make it.

Too late. Here you were, also early, giving your name to the hostess.

He looked up in time to meet your gaze from across the room.

"Bloody hell."