I exhaled, opened my eyes and glanced down at my watch—6.23. I needed to leave to make my 7.15 gym class. If I’d felt that Callum and I could have a connection outside of the bedroom, I would’ve considered staying longer, but it was obvious we had nothing in common.
Don’t get me wrong, I know how much hair can change how you feel. Two years ago when I’d broken up with Tony—who, after four months of dating, I’d thought was the one—I had gone straight to the salon and chopped all my hair off into a pixie crop. But then I’d felt so self-conscious about it being short, I’d gone back the following week to get extensions, and I’d been doing that ever since. It was all part of my work uniform. It made me look professional and feel glamorous. Being in sales meant it was important to project the right image. Plus most guys love long, flowing locks too. So yes, I’m all for hair talk, but a twenty-minute monologue about gel was pushing the boundaries of stimulating conversation, even for me.
Then again, should I try to keep an open mind? Maybe he was nervous and the conversation would be better next time?
As I returned to the table, I asked the waiter for the bill, then reached into my purse. Callum, on the other hand, sat still in his seat.
‘Shall we just split it?’ I said.
‘Oh.’ His face dropped. ‘I thought you’d be paying? You know, seeing as we met on Bumble and women make the first move?’
‘That’s funny!’ I chuckled, hoping he was joking.
He wasn’t.
‘Yeah. Sorry, Amanda, I forgot my wallet, so don’t have my credit card. I’ve only got a fiver on me and I need to get the tube home, so if you could pay, that’d be cool.’
Who goes on a date without any money? I would always bring enough cash to at least cover the cost of my own drinks. Surely that’s just good manners?
And who the hell is Amanda? It’s Alexandra. He couldn’t even get my name right.
Replying was pointless. I called the waiter, paid and left.
I was definitely not keeping an open mind as far as he was concerned. No way. But at least tomorrow was a new day, and a new day meant a new date, which I hoped would be significantly better.
Date number two was with Eddie in a small basement bar in Soho, which looked a bit seedy to be honest. Very dark, with red lighting and tacky hanging lanterns. The kind of place I’d imagine would turn into a strip club after hours. Maybe that would explain why there were so many men here. Not the most ideal place for a first date, but I was sure it would be fine.
Eddie was a personal trainer from East London who was tall and built like a brick wall. Six foot five of pure muscle.
Yum.
It was only supposed to be a quick drink, but the conversation flowed better than with Callum, so I stuck around.
Obviously Eddie liked to work out, so we chatted a fair bit about our mutual love for the gym.
I admit, I did find my mind wandering off a few times, thinking about the fireworks that we could have in the bedroom. Being so new to this challenge, it was only natural. Especially given his physique. He was the kind of guy you could imagine picking you up in his big arms like Tarzan.
Mmm…
Focus. Focus. Focus.
Thankfully, I managed to hold myself together (just). Then, about an hour and a half into our date, Eddie leant forward.
‘So, sexy Alexandra…it’s getting quite noisy in here, don’t you think? How about we go somewhere quieter?’
‘Sure,’ I said, keen to continue our conversation. ‘I know a coffee shop not too far from here that should be pretty quiet at this time. We could go there?’
‘That’s nice,’ he said, slipping his hand under the table and stroking my leg.
I jumped, bashing my knee.
‘Ouch!’ I said.
‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. I couldn’t help myself. So, what do you say? Should we continue this conversation somewhere else more private, say at your place?’
He started to stroke my leg again and it actually felt good. I’d missed a man’s touch. I was really attracted to him, and the prospect of Eddie coming back to my place for a good workout was the kind of offer that, ordinarily, I wouldn’t be able to refuse.
I could imagine him scooping me up in his big arms, lifting me this way and that…experimenting with a plethora of positions. Mmm…
‘No!’ I said, coming to my senses. ‘I can’t!’
‘Can’t?’ He frowned. ‘Surely I didn’t get the wrong end of the stick? I’m pretty sure you fancy me, don’t you?’
‘I do, Eddie, but, I can’t.’
‘Why? What’s the problem?’ His frown deepened. ‘If you like me, then why not, babes? We’ll have an amazing night, I promise you.’
‘I-I, I just can’t,’ I stuttered.
God, this was painful. I’d never restricted myself before.
‘Have you got a flatmate at home or something? I can keep the noise down if that helps. Can’t promise I won’t make you scream, though, darling!’ He winked.
Oh God. Cringe…
‘No, it’s not that…’
‘Time of the month? I don’t mind, babes. Extra lubrication…’ He winked again.
He did not just say that…
‘Er, no. It’s not that either.’ I shuffled in my seat.
This was so uncomfortable.
‘Well, then, I don’t get it,’ he said. ‘What could possibly keep a woman like you from wanting to spend the night with a hot guy like me?’
‘Fancy yourself much?’ I muttered. Despite his arrogance, somehow I still felt the need to explain myself. Like it would be rude to ignore his question.
‘It’s just that I’ve started this thing,’ I said, taking a deep breath. ‘A no-sex thing…’
Maybe he’ll accept my response and just move on?
Who am I kidding?
‘A no-sex what? As in, you’re not having sex? Why? Why would you do that?’ he shouted in horror. A question I had asked myself many times over the past eleven days. ‘What are you, a born-again Christian?’
‘No…’
‘So if you’re not a Christian, why are you stopping yourself? And more to the point, if we’re not going to fuck, then why did you bother meeting me in the first place?’ he said, the vein in his forehead throbbing.
‘What did you just say?’ I asked, sure that he couldn’t have really come here expecting that I was guaranteed to sleep with him.
‘What a complete and utter waste of my time!’ He hissed. ‘I’ve sat here listening to you drone on about your stupid job and the stupid films you like all night, and now you decide to tell me that we’re not even going to screw? This is a joke. A prostitute would have been cheaper than the cost of that round of drinks! And I would have saved two hours of my life that I’ll never get back. A no-sex ban! Good luck with that, sweetheart! There may be a few idiots that are willing to wait until date number two or three, but I am definitely not one of them!’
And with that, he was gone. My mouth fell to the floor.
Speechless.
Clearly Eddie was a major dickhead, but even knowing that I’d had a lucky escape, part of me still couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe he was right. Who really waited these days unless it was for religious reasons?
I knew Laurie and Stacey insisted this would work, but guys were going to think I was a freak. And not in a kinky way. They’d think I was mad. Nuts. Bonkers. There was no way they’d stick around.
Oh God.
What the hell have I let myself in for?
Chapter Eight
‘Well, that’s one of the first lessons to learn from,’ said Stacey as she stirred her cup of coffee. ‘Avoid being too open, too soon. You don’t have to tell a guy that you’re not going to sleep with him or give him a reason why. Like Laurie says, going on a date and accepting his offer to buy you a drink does not automatically grant him an all-access pass inside your knickers!’
‘I know, I know.’ I winced. ‘I just panicked. I’m not
used to saying no. Especially to a guy who looked like that. I was really attracted to him.’
‘Eurgh! He may have come in pretty packaging, but his personality sounds awful. And as for his arrogance! Did he really say what would make a girl want to turn down a hot guy like me?’
‘Yep!’
‘Er, perhaps your ego?’ suggested Stacey. ‘And that’s just for starters.’
‘Tell me about it! As terrible as those first two dates have been, if I put my fears to one side and think with my head, I am starting to see the benefits of the challenge. If I hadn’t read the book, I probably would have fallen for his charms, got carried away because I’d fixated on his body, invited him back to my place and had sex. Then I’d be obsessing right now over whether he was going to message, and if so, when? And if he did, which I doubt because he seemed like the one-night-only kind of guy, I’d be worrying about what his message meant, how long I should wait to reply, if I’d see him again, how much he did or didn’t like me…I’d be driving myself crazy!’
‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘And now, because you haven’t slept with him, we can have a calm, detached conversation because we both realise what a wanker he was. You’ve ruled him out of the equation, and now you can turn your attention to your next two dates.’
‘Yep. And I do feel calm,’ I said, biting into my croissant. ‘Overall, anyway. Although I totally understand why this challenge is a good thing, at the same time, his reaction does make me worry. When I mentioned the no-sex thing, he automatically assumed that I just meant two or three dates. Imagine what he would have said if he’d known it was six months! I’m trying to stay positive, but I just don’t think a guy is going to wait that long.’
‘The wrong guy won’t. Remember, like the book says, the wrong guys will give up. They’ll react badly like Eddie because they’re not looking for anything serious. Those are the guys you don’t want. They’re the ones who will bring you grief and heartbreak down the line. So it’s good that you see their true colours now before you get in too deep and wind up hurt. But the guys who are serious and do adore you, the ones who are looking for marriage, will wait. Because they know you’re worth it. I know it feels impossible right now, but hang on in there. Keep dating and you’ll find the right one eventually.’
‘I really, really want to believe, honestly. But I can’t help but feel that I’m setting myself up to fail. If this was all reliant on my own behaviour, then I’d stand a chance, but it isn’t. It also requires me finding a patient man. And based on those dates with Callum and Eddie, it’s not looking likely.’
‘Come on. You’re, what, twelve days into this? You can’t expect to strike gold on your first rodeo. You need to give it a chance. My husband was the ninth guy I dated, and I know other women that have had to wait a lot longer than that. If it was that easy, it wouldn’t be called a challenge! When’s your next date?’
‘Tomorrow night. But I don’t feel like going. I’m worried that it will be another disaster.’
‘Think positive. It will go well.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘Not with absolute certainty, no, but I do know that if you go in thinking it will be a disaster, it won’t go as well as if you went filled with hope and optimism. Remember, like us, guys are attracted to happy, positive people.’
‘Okay, okay. I will be happy and smiley like I’m auditioning for a part in The Sound of Music.’
‘Steady!’ she said, picking up her mug as we walked to our desks. ‘You don’t want to go overboard. Otherwise, he really will think you’re a madwoman!’
Chapter Nine
Day fourteen of the challenge and I was feeling okay. Much better and more positive. Why? Because last night, I’d had a date with prospect number three and it was actually good. Well, not good in terms of finding the one, but good as in I’d had a nice time.
I’d gone out with Sid, who was sweet. Very polite and softly-spoken. You could tell he was nervous as his hand shook every time he took a sip of his Diet Coke, bless him.
Stocky, a little shorter than me and bald, Sid was one of my ‘wild cards’. Someone that I wouldn’t have swiped for ordinarily, but I’d agreed to a quick drink with him as I wanted to keep an open mind.
Unlike Callum, he actually remembered his wallet (although of course I insisted on paying for myself), and he didn’t seem to expect anything more after the end of our date. Those weren’t the only reasons I thought he was sweet, though. He came across as a genuine guy. The bummer is that I wasn’t attracted to him. There just wasn’t that spark. I knew sometimes it took time for these things to grow, but I had to be honest with myself. If we saw each other again, it would only be as friends.
What the date had done was to help restore my faith in men. It was a timely reminder that not all of them were sex-crazed dickheads. At least Sid didn’t appear to be. I reckoned he was the kind of guy who would wait to sleep with the right woman. And if Sid would wait, then maybe there were other men out there that would too. He gave me hope. So whilst I doubted he was my soul mate, perhaps Sid had taken me a step closer to meeting someone who was.
The fourth date I’d arranged was with Luke, a professor. When he’d messaged, I’d thought perhaps it was too good to be true to find a hot guy with brains on a dating app, but that was before my newfound optimism. Why not? I’d thought. If there were decent women like me on apps, then why couldn’t some of the men be catches too? After I’d replied, he’d quickly suggested we meet at W1 in Mayfair tonight.
I took the lift to the top floor. Very swanky. It had a huge circular bar in the centre of the floor, illuminated by a ginormous chandelier that resembled a spaceship. I half expected ET or the cast of Star Trek to start coming out any second.
There were a couple of tall blondes in their twenties wearing micro dresses and skyscraper heels, perched at the bar, giggling with a large group of loud city boys who looked very drunk, and then another trio of women, dressed up to the nines, who were scanning the room and seemingly comparing notes on the various guys as if they were scouting for prospects.
This was the kind of place that lots of ‘cool’ people would rave about. All glossy and glam. Worlds apart from the seedy bar I’d gone to with Eddie, but not necessarily any better. To be honest, neither of these bars were really my cup of tea, but I supposed it was good to try something different.
I was wearing a black pencil skirt with shiny black heels and a tight red sleeveless peplum top. No sleeves wasn’t exactly ideal for this time of year, but it looked quite dressy and sexy, which was my aim. On second thoughts, what if they turned up the air con and my nipples started showing? Might give off the wrong vibe…I pulled my long hair from my back, so that it hung neatly over my shoulders and my boobs. Best to play it safe.
I sat down on one of the cream leather seats at the candlelit glossy black table for two and checked my watch. We had said 6 p.m., right? I launched the app and checked our messages. Yep. We had. It was now ten past. Oh God. I hope he doesn’t cancel? Stay calm. It’s still relatively early. Give it at least five more minutes before you start to panic.
I looked at the menu to kill time. Bloody hell. At £18 for a cocktail, I wouldn’t be having more than a couple of drinks. Especially as there was still two more weeks until payday. I’d stick to wine.
‘Alexandra?’ said a voice behind me. I turned around, and wow!
‘That’s, that’s me…’ I stuttered as I stood up to greet him.
Tall—I reckon around six foot three—dark hair, green eyes and lovely stubble. He was exactly my type (yes, I knew what Laurie said about that, but…).
Thank you, Jesus. Please, please, please don’t let him be a dick.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said, taking off his trench coat, revealing an unmistakable Burberry printed lining, a perfectly tailored grey suit and a crisp white shirt, which clung to what looked like a very firm chest. Mmm-mmm. ‘Got caught up in an unexpected meeting with the dean, and then the traffic getting a
cross London was terrible.’
‘Don’t worry.’ I smiled warmly, fighting the urge to continue undressing him with my eyes. ‘I know what it’s like. You’re here now.’
‘What are you drinking?’ he asked as he hung his coat over the back of the chair opposite me and sat down.
‘I’ll have a glass of rosé, please.’
‘Excuse me,’ he said loudly to get the waiter’s attention. ‘Double brandy, and a rosé for the beautiful lady.’ The waiter nodded and scurried off behind the bar.
‘So,’ he said, clapping his hands and leaning forward. ‘Where have you been all my life? You’re stunning.’ I blushed. This one was clearly a charmer.
‘Thank you,’ I said, twirling my hair around my fingers.
‘You didn’t answer my question.’ He smirked.
‘Your question?’
‘Yes. Where have you been? I’ve been on that app for weeks and I haven’t seen you, so naturally when you popped up, I felt compelled to message before some other guy took you off the market.’
‘You’re funny,’ I chuckled.
‘I wasn’t joking,’ he said with a poker face. ‘When I see something I like, I don’t hold back, I go for it. Take my career, for example. I come from a very working-class background. Before me, no one in my family had ever been to university. But I knew early on that it was something I wanted to do, and I worked my butt off both in the classroom and doing two part-time jobs to pay for the fees needed to make it happen. I got my degree, my master’s, then my PhD, and now here I am today: one of the most successful psychology professors in the UK. Maybe even Europe. Who knows?’
‘Impressive,’ I replied as the waiter put our drinks on the table.
‘Yes. So my career’s sorted. Now I’m looking for someone to share that with. I’d like a nice wife and a kid. Maybe even two. Do you want children?’
Blimey. He’s quick off the mark.
‘Yes!’ I said enthusiastically. ‘I mean, it depends what day it is. When I’ve got a pile of washing at home and a load of housework to do, sometimes I wonder how much harder it would be to do that for a husband and children too. But, yes, I do. Absolutely.’
Only When It's Love: A Chick Lit, Romantic Comedy Novel: Holding Out For Mr Right Page 6
