#70: Glued

She had to drag Peter. Date night was his idea of hell. And yet, only two years ago, he'd been the most romantic man Grace had ever met. He'd pick her up after work and park the car some place, and just listen to her. It wasn't foreplay; it was a genuine interest in her. Sometimes he'd bring a picnic blanket, other times they'd sit at Macca's and share some fries.

Her friends joked he was like a stray puppy who only wanted to follow her.

"Remember that time when we were walking along the beach and got caught in that storm?" she said, desperate to bring his attention to her. Just for a moment.

"Ha," is all he managed. The line moved forward. They were going to see a movie, which wasn't her idea of a date night. It was a start. A way of getting them both out of the house, without the kids.

She leant into him and saw the betting app open. He was frantically placing bets on the races that'd be on while they sat sipping on Cokes and chomping at their Choc Tops.

Suddenly there was a groan from people in front, and then word crashed over them like a wave that the session was sold out.

Peter grabbed her hand.

"No," she managed before the grip yanked her.

She watched Peter, his eyes were glued to the TV screen at the closest pub. It was these moments when she thinks her Peter, the romantic one, was swapped out for this one.