Going for Gold - Part 2

The athletes village is a little more than it seems...

The next day, I awake with a jolt. The room is completely dark and I’m temporarily confused until I blink over at the blackout curtains. I check the smartwatch on my wrist – its past 3pm. Sighing, I let my head fall back onto the pillow. I didn’t know how I was going to fall asleep tonight but that was a problem for later. Right now, my stomach was rumbling angrily at me.

“Alright,” I groan and throw the covers back.

When I get out of bed, I notice Sarah isn’t here. Her things are scattered across her bed but she must have gotten up a long time ago. I wonder if it’s too late for me to catch lunch downstairs.

I get dressed quickly and make my way back to the foyer. The restaurant is busier than I expected, almost full, so I walk up to the host cautiously.

“Bonne après-midi!” he greets me. “Do you have a booking?”

“Uh, no,” I say, my stomach rumbling again. “Sorry. Is there any space?”

The host looks down at his tablet and frowns, tapping at it quickly.

“I’m afraid not, Madam,” he says apologetically and my heart sinks. “The next available table is in approximately two hours. However, we can provide a list of recommended restaurants in the area?”

“Okay, yeah, thank you,” I try to hide my disappointment. I can see the meals other people are getting and my mouth waters. 

“Wait, hang on a sec!” someone calls from in the restaurant. The host and I both look over to see a man I’ve never met waving from his table. “She can sit here if she likes?”

He points at the spare seat opposite him.

The host turns back to look at me.

“Is that okay?” I ask. “Can I just sit with some guy?”

“Of course, Madam, if you would be happy with this,” the host shrugs. I take a second to think, glancing back over at the man. He waves cheerfully at me.

“Okay,” I say. “Why not?”

“Very good, Madam,” the host picks up a menu and walks me over to the spare seat. He indicates to another server to bring cutlery before leaving. I smile awkwardly at the man.

“Uh, thank you,” I say.

“No worries,” he replies, with a roll on the r’s. Scottish? I think to myself. “My name’s Heath.”

He reaches across to shake my hand. I accept and he grips it firmly. 

“Sarah,” I tell him and he smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He’s actually quite handsome, I muse. His green eyes are in contrast to his dark hair and when he withdraws his hand, I can see the muscles in his arm moving. I clear my throat, to shake myself out of my thoughts.