‘Boyfriend doesn’t mind?’
‘No boyfriend!’
‘Oh.’ His hand is next to mine on the rail as the machine comes to the end of its performance and slows to a halt. We stand and stare at each other.
He’s nice. Not buzzy in your tummy nice, but nice-nice. Not Noah nice. But I don’t want Noah nice, do I?
‘You wouldn’t fancy a drink some—?’
‘Yes!’ I blurt out before he finishes his sentence. Then feel like punching the air! I have just been asked out! On a date. A proper first date! ‘How can I say no when you just rescued me?’ I have completed my practical with flying colours, and a bonus – an actual date with a nice guy!
‘Great. Friday any good?’ I nod. Speechless. A date! ‘Pop your number in my phone, I’ll text you.’ He smiles, no doubt at my slightly dubious look. ‘Look forward to it. Steve, by the way.’
‘Rosie.’ I hold his phone out. We’re still kind of both clutching it when I feel the warmth of Noah’s hand on my back.
‘Everything okay?’
‘Sure.’ I grin at him. ‘Never better! But I think I’ve had enough exercise for one day.’ I wipe my sweaty hands down my leggings. Mission accomplished, exercise over!
Noah looks from Steve to me, then back again. ‘Did I miss something?’
‘We were just.’ Steve motions with his phone and looks flustered. ‘I didn’t think you two …’
‘We’re not,’ I say firmly.
‘She’s busy this week,’ says Noah at the same time.
‘My bad.’ Steve takes a step back.
I kick Noah on the ankle bone and am totally gratified when he gasps.
‘No, it’s his bad!’ I glare at Noah, daring him to say anything. ‘I’m not busy at all, I’d love to go out.’
‘Well, if you’re sure?’ He looks doubtfully at Noah.
‘Positive.’ I grind my heel into his toe for good measure. What has got into the man?
‘Great, er, I’ll be in touch later. Tonight. Bye. See you!’ Steve waves a hand, flings his towel over his shoulder and saunters off whistling.
‘Who was that?’
‘He’s called Steve. I’ve got a date. A proper date! I can’t believe it, I’ve done it!’ I hold a hand up to high five. Noah doesn’t. Which makes me feel a bit stupid, and angry.
‘What’s the matter? You should be pleased for me! You’ve done it, succeeded. After hardly any lessons!’
‘Fine. I am.’ His voice is stiff. ‘But you didn’t tell me.’
‘What do you mean, tell you?’
‘That you were going to, you know.’
‘No, I don’t know. Anyway, he saved me, when you were too busy pressing that blonde’s buttons to notice.’
‘Saved you? Oh, come on, don’t turn him into a knight in shining armour. We’re in a gym not a jungle.’
I frown at him. ‘You could fool me from the way you’re prowling about like a tiger with a sore head. What is the matter with you?’
‘Nothing.’ He stares back and looks slightly sullen.
‘It’s only a date! You told me to, you said it was today’s lesson!’
‘I told you to chat a guy up, not arrange a date! He’s not your type.’
‘Meaning?’
‘He takes boring and weak to a whole new level! I know you want safe, Rosie, but really?’
He might have a point, Steve does seem a bit, well, uninspired, even for me. But I’m not going to admit that to Noah. ‘I think I’ll decide that, and how do you know what my type is?’ I say coldly, trying to keep the quiver from my voice. ‘And anyway it’s a date not a lifetime bloody commitment!’
‘You need somebody who’s your equal.’
I glare at him. ‘Like you, you mean?’
He ignores that comment. ‘He’s too weak, too nice. It’ll be yes Rosie, no Rosie until you’re screaming out for him to contradict you just once.’
‘What? Are you having me on here? He was fine until you butted in, Mr Macho!’
‘Or it could be a cover, devious.’
‘Oh, get lost, have you any idea how much of a dick you sound at the moment?’
‘He could actually be a bit of a player. If you punch above your weight you—’
‘What!’ I can’t help myself. I yell at him. ‘How dare you say—’ I’m so angry I’m speechless. ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ Okay, I’m not completely speechless.
I fling my own towel over my shoulder, nearly flicking his eye out, and push past him. ‘You’re being ridiculous. Don’t you want me to be happy?’
‘Rosie, stop overreacting.’
‘Me! Overreacting. Me? Ha.’
‘Come back. I just don’t want you to lose confidence, to get hurt.’
‘I won’t,’ I say, not even turning around. I won’t. I’m more likely to be hurt by Noah than Steve, but I don’t voice that. I’m too angry, and my triumph has completely died away to be replaced with the feeling that I am about to burst into tears.
This is just like so many times Dad has undermined my decisions, told me I’ve got it wrong, even when I’ve been trying to please him. Just like I was trying to please Noah.
They’re two chips off the same bloody block, and I’ve done it again – thought if I tried hard enough it would all be okay.
I hate Noah. I wish I’d never met him. I don’t know why I thought I could do this, why I was beginning to think he might actually not be as bad for me as I’d originally thought.
Always trust your first instincts don’t they say?
Wednesday night
‘I’m sorry. Truly. Still on for tomorrow night? N’
‘I just don’t want you to get hurt. N x’
‘He looks okay, I was just taken by surprise N xx’
‘You’re doing great, amazing. You’ve got this cracked – just sorry I’ll soon be losing my best student far too soon. I’ve taught you too well ☹ N xx’
I sigh. I can’t just ignore Noah, but he has truly pissed me off. The whole purpose of our seeing each other was for me to get a date, wasn’t it? Shouldn’t he be happy I’ve managed to do that? I don’t get him at all. And I don’t get why it’s upset me so much that he’s been such a miserable git.
I’m normally quite a rational, logical person. This is the point at which I should just tell him that he’s achieved what he said he would, and I should just walk away. I am now a graduate of the school of seduction. I am a fledging seductress.
I just don’t feel like one.
But I am vaguely hopeful that Steve could be the first of many. Or at least one or two. Not that the hordes will be beating a track to my door. But just the odd one would be nice. And if dating one happened to tie in with my parents’ anniversary party then that would be even better.
I think it might be pushy to try and book Steve in for that now though.
‘Sorry, just seen your texts, been in the shower. Rosie’
I have been in the shower. I’ve also been stomping around my place muttering under my breath and swearing quite a lot. And eating.
I am still not quite sure why Noah was so stroppy about Steve. I was so pissed off when I left the gym that I went into the supermarket, bought three pastries that were on offer and a pack of Pringles that wasn’t. I then binge watched Netflix and wished I had a cat to cuddle.
And screamed at my mobile phone every time it beeped with a message. That wasn’t from Steve.
I feel sick. Probably nerves because maybe Steve won’t text after all. He did say he’d text and confirm our date, so it probably isn’t going to happen. He must have got home and realised he’d made a mistake, or already had a girlfriend.
‘Forgiven me? Seeing you flirt made me feel possessive! N x’
‘I’m supposed to flirt, I thought that was the point, teacher? R x’
‘Full marks on that, A grade student. But maybe take it slow?’
I sigh, the texts had been going in the right direction, and now he has to say that
.
‘Why can’t you just be pleased for me? I’ve been going slow all my life, I need to speed up before I die. And before the party.’
‘I am pleased for you. I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.’
‘Did your blonde brush you off?’
‘No, we’ve got a date on Friday.’
This is followed be a smiley face.
‘Hypocrite.’
There is a long pause between messages.
‘Ouch, but fair. Ignore me. N’
‘Impossible. R x’
‘True! I meant ignore what I said at the gym, not what I just said. I don’t take being ignored well, I’m a me-me-me type of person. N x’
I can’t help but notice that the kiss is back on his message.
I flick through programmes and wonder if I should watch The Good Place again for some tips on deception, and redemption, and ‘soulmates’. With Noah I’m not quite sure if he’s a bad guy pretending to be good, and this is all a joke. Or he’s actually the good guy he really seems to be, with double standards when it comes to relationships.
I’ve never been able to work out what Dad really is, so what chance do I stand with Noah? It’s not that I’m torn in two ways over my father, it’s like my brain is buzzing with a whole ant’s nest of conflicting messages. I mean, he’s my dad! When I was young, I believed with a capital P that he was perfect, that he’d always love me, that he would have been there if he could have been. Then the doubts started to creep in, the thoughts that if I could be better then I’d deserve him more.
Bea says I shouldn’t need to earn his love. He should give it. Unconditionally. Even if I’m his worst nightmare – like she is to her parents (she said that, not me, she’s not a nightmare – but her parents love her to bits).
I’ve never really judged Dad. I hate that he flirts his way through life because it hurts Mum. It’s selfish, it’s cruel, and a buzzing in my head tells me that Noah is right – he’s a shit. Because he’s not just flirting, he’s actually not always very nice. Even though everybody thinks he is. I used to think he was. So whilst one little buzzy voice (which is getting quieter by the day) is saying he’s okay, he just can’t help himself so, it’s not entirely his fault, there is another, louder buzz telling me it is his fault, and he could just ACT NORMAL. And another buzzy voice is telling me that maybe I’ll never be good enough, because he keeps moving the ‘good enough’ bar so he’s got an excuse to never be ‘good enough’ himself.
I’m confused and torn. My dad is a part of me. I can never quite not believe what he says to me. That’s what love does to you, isn’t it?
Noah is not a part of me though. And am I being stupid putting him in the same categories I’ve been measuring my dad against?
If he’d just settle down, let himself have a proper relationship, then maybe I’d know what type of man he is. Except then I wouldn’t be happy, I know I wouldn’t; I don’t want to see Noah exit my life because he’s madly in love.
Arghhh.
More to the point, because my head really isn’t up to finding answers right now, how can he be so cross that I flirted? I am supposed to flirt! It was part of the lesson.
‘At least let me help you before your date, even if you brush me off after? Still on for tomorrow night? N x’
‘How can I say no? R x’
I can’t actually. The thought of a possible date, with a very nice guy, should be making me less desperate to see Noah. But he’s like a drug. I don’t want to stop seeing him. Maybe Steve will cure me of that. If he ever texts.
‘Glad I’m still irresistible! N x’
I can’t help but smile. We’ve been bickering like brother and sister, or a couple in a relationship, and falling out with Noah leaves me feeling anxious. I want to be friends. He’s the one person (well, the one male person) in my life who has been there to help me find a date. Okay, he’s been there even more than that. I have started to rely on him. I chat to him more than I chat to anybody else.
Oh my God, I’m not using him like some kind of father substitute, am I? Don’t they say women go after a man who reminds them of their dad – and in my case I’m doing that, even though I’m hoping like hell he’s a modified and improved version.
Oh bugger, I am really screwed.
I must not feel anxious. This is scary. I must not rely on him. I can cope without Noah, I can, I can.
He is just a friend, and people cope with losing friends. I hardly know him, it’s not like he’s Bea. Or even Robbie’s mum or dad.
‘p.s. you don’t have to reply to that! N’
I must keep it light.
‘You are incredible! R x’
I pick up the debris of crisp packets and cake wrappers and wonder if I should turn my mobile off. Steve still hasn’t texted. What if I am still totally un-dateable?
‘Hey!’
Oh my God, an unknown number! It’s him, it’s Steve.
I sink back down on the sofa with a sigh of relief. It’s official. I have got a first date.
Chapter 12
‘Wow.’ Noah gives a low whistle that makes my skin shiver as he slips off his stool and leans forward to kiss my cheek.
I’d been dreading this, seeing him again. I’ve had butterflies of anticipation and have been a total wreck all day, worried that we’d spoiled everything. That we’d lost our easy friendship. Which I like. I realised last night that I will miss Noah so much when he decides he’s taught me all he knows or is just too busy to see me.
But just like that he’s made everything better.
‘Aren’t you the sexy lady? Give me a twirl!’ He grins, dimples framing his generous mouth, and I blush, feeling happy. Then I have to remind myself that he’s a pro. He’s doing his job.
‘I look okay?’ I ask as I self-consciously turn slowly on the spot. My makeover was completed after work by a new haircut, with added colour, and I am now everything Noah told me I should try and be. Me.
I have completed my homework to the best of my ability. I have bought clothes that I have always longed to wear and have changed what I want to change – my hair. Ignoring what anybody else might think – including my bank manager. Who is going to think I have been abducted by aliens, and been forced to divulge my pin number.
I have been primped and poked (not in that way) like never before. I was afraid that the inside of my wardrobe looked strangely alien. It would seem the clothes don’t look quite as alien on me, unless Noah has really weird taste.
‘Bloody hell. You are looking so gorgeous you’ve just made me forget my pick-up line!’
‘Well what a crap teacher you are going to be!’
He chuckles, and the moment that could have been awkward is suddenly quite chilled. ‘I ordered you a drink, is that okay?’
‘How do you know what I like?’ I can’t help it. I give him my suspicious look.
‘Rosie, Rosie.’ He takes my hand in his two warm ones. One finger tapping the back. ‘Tip number one, give a guy a tiny bit of the control, let him make a decision now and again. You know, not rule your life, just tinker with the simple stuff that doesn’t really matter.’
‘Hmm.’ I twist my mouth and ponder that one. I don’t like letting other people control anything in my life – unless they’re a plumber and I need a pipe fixing, or something like that. Fixing stuff that I can’t, or don’t want, to do.
‘You’d let a waiter recommend the best dish on the menu, wouldn’t you?’
‘Maybe. As long as it’s not bull’s penis, or crispy ants, or something like that.’
He raises an eyebrow. ‘You seriously go to places that serve stuff like that?’
‘No, I watch I’m a Celebrity, but I mean, you never know.’
‘You are a bit strange, you know, lesson 16,’ he waves a finger, ‘don’t scare the shit out of the guy. If he looks like he survives on worms and roadkill then fine, otherwise,’ he shakes his head, ‘don’t mention eating dicks, not of any kind. Not dried, salted or skewered, definitely not
skewered.’
‘It was just an example.’ It was. And I could actually imagine Noah eating weird stuff for a dare. Maybe not a penis, but we all have our limits. ‘Are we really on lesson 16?’
‘At least. So, er, let a guy make a decision now and then?’
I nod, slightly sheepishly. How on earth did I get onto eating willies and worms? He waves a hand.
‘Come on, we’re sitting over there.’ I think this is his demonstration of a man making a decision, so I nod dutifully and smile, and follow him. I am trying my best to listen to everything he is trying to teach me. Even if some points seem a bit misguided.
‘Some men like women to make the decisions, you know!’
He shakes his head. ‘Not the type of man you need in your life.’
‘Meaning?’
‘You don’t want a doormat, Rosie! You need a challenge!’ He winks. ‘Trust me!’
I mock-sigh. Trouble is, I am beginning to trust him quite a lot. Well at least his judgement on how to catch a guy, I’m not sure about his picture of the actual guy.
When all this is over, I can tweak things to suit though. Nobody sticks one hundred per cent to what they’ve been taught, do they?
Noah chose this place, it’s a bit off my beaten track, a bar I’ve never been to before, and I think we’d got a kind of unspoken agreement that our meetings would be away from my normal haunts.
I’m impressed now I get a chance to look around. I’d got tunnel vision when I walked in; my tummy was full of butterflies, my legs on the wobbly side (partly down to the heels) and my knees practically knocking (blame the skirt). I’d been concentrating on making it to the bar – and Noah – without either falling over or chickening out.
Now I can actually understand why women going down the red carpet hang on to a partner. They are literally hanging on; it’s got more to do with balance than attraction. It reduces the risk of falling over due to temporary lack of shoe control, or lack of leg control linked to the nervous shakes.
The First Date Page 14
