by Nina Kaye
‘But I do work with people. Lots of people. With all sorts of different motivations and behaviours.’
‘Point taken.’ I lift my drink to my lips and drain the glass.
‘Another?’
I agree and Matt signals for the waiter. As he relays the order, I chase away the buzzy interference in my mind. When I talked this through with Sasha, it was so clear – it’s just dating, it doesn’t need to go anywhere. And if it seems like it will, that’s when I consider how I want to deal with it. If Matt’s the right man for me, he’ll understand why I held it back and he’ll see me instead of my illness. Surely?
Chapter 21
Three hours later, the awkwardness is long gone even after I moved on to soft drinks, citing my need for a clear head the next day to do my leadership programme pre-work.
Matt and I have vacated the bar and are wandering casually along the canal-side together, chatting animatedly and flirting shamelessly. It’s a still, clear night with a sky full of winking stars that add to the sense of romance. The temperature has also dropped several degrees. The closer we get to Brindley Place, where we’ll likely part ways, the slower and smaller our footsteps become (which is useful for me when it comes to climbing the steps from the canal-side). When we reach the top we come to a complete standstill, our bodies just inches apart, and gaze out across the stillness of the water.
‘So, I assume you’ll head in the direction of Broad Street for a taxi?’ I reluctantly ask, not yet ready for the night to end.
‘That would normally be my route, yes.’ He turns towards me, his breath billowing in clouds from the cold. ‘I wonder though if you’d let me walk you home. It’s only a small detour.’
‘That would be nice.’
His dark eyes crinkle as he smiles back at me, and I’m taken by surprise as he takes my hand and intertwines his fingers between mine.
‘All right?’
‘Yeah.’ I nod, biting my lip like a bashful schoolgirl.
We amble along the quiet residential streets until we reach my apartment block, where we come to a halt once more. I’m almost jangling with anticipation, while also wondering whether I should invite Matt in for a coffee – but obviously not in the clichéd sense. Is that what he’s expecting? Or will it send out the wrong signals? I look up at him, his face partially illuminated by the streetlight, creating shadowy contours on his face that make him look very sexy indeed. This makes me even more conflicted. A big part of me wants more than coffee: for him to wrap his strong arms round me and stay there all night. But I barely know him. We’ve done nothing more than hold hands and I’m keen not to accelerate this beyond what I’m ready for, given my circumstances.
As if reading my mind, Matt takes the lead on drawing our evening together to a close.
‘I’ve really enjoyed your company tonight, Alex. I hope we can do this again.’ He squeezes my hand affectionately.
‘I hope so too.’
We stand for a moment, paralysed by nerves. The chemistry between us is almost at overload. A kiss if it came now would be explosive. But we’ve faltered again. Feeling the moment passing from our inaction, Matt lets my hand go and takes a step back. I feel immediately disappointed and irritated at myself for not making the first move – nothing has ever stopped me in the past, so why now?
‘Do you have plans for Sunday?’ Matt asks.
‘No. What did you have in mind?’
‘Oh… I’m watching the football with my mates. I was just making conversation.’
Heat creeps up my neck as I realise I’ve been presumptuous. ‘Right… shit… of course… sorry, I’m…’
‘No, I’m sorry.’ His hand goes to his mouth to conceal a guilty smile. ‘I’ve done it again. I was asking you out, I just couldn’t help myself. What is wrong with me?’
‘Seriously? If it weren’t for the fact that I malfunction around you as much as you do around me, I might have been offended.’
‘But you’re not…?’
‘No, I’m not. But you’ll have to ask again. Properly.’
‘Right. Of course.’ He clears his throat, humour glinting in his eyes. ‘Can I see you again on Sunday?’
Lips twitching, I repeat my original question. ‘What did you have in mind?’
‘I thought we could go for a nice walk somewhere.’
‘Up a hill?’ I ask, sincerely hoping not.
‘No. There’s a nice, relaxed forest walk I know and a great gastropub we could grab some lunch at after.’
‘That sounds lovely.’ I beam at him, my insides doing cartwheels at the thought of seeing him again so soon. It definitely makes up for the absence of a kiss.
‘Great, I’ll pick you up at ten. Good night, Alex.’
‘Night, Matt. See you Sunday.’
Without looking back, I make my way inside my apartment building, feeling like the cat that cleared out the entire stock of the local dairy.
* * *
‘What do you mean you haven’t kissed him yet?’ Sasha almost squeals down the phone. I quickly switch to speakerphone so she doesn’t perforate my eardrum. ‘I was going to ask if he’d stayed over and done the walk of shame this morning.’
It’s eleven a.m. the next day and as I’ve not responded to her three WhatsApp messages asking about my date, Sasha has run out of patience and called me.
‘Sorry to disappoint you.’ I chuckle lightly and lie back on my bed. ‘It just didn’t happen that way.’
‘Was there no spark? Sometimes it’s just not there. Was he boring? Or self-obsessed? They’re a total turn-off, no matter how good-looking a man is.’
‘If you’ll let me get a word in edgeways, I might tell you.’
‘Right, sorry. You go.’
Allowing the memory of the night before to wash over me, I take a deep, satisfied breath. ‘It’s actually the opposite. There’s so much chemistry between us, we can’t function normally around each other. Every time we brush hands or the conversation flows in the direction of anything more than flirty banter, I feel like I’m about to short-circuit. And he seems to be the same. We kept having these ridiculous moments where one of us said or did something stupid and it’s all down to nerves. He’s a confident guy, but he’s got this kind of shyness that kicks in at points, and I seem to be the same.’
‘That doesn’t sound like you at all. When you first laid eyes on Dom, you were like, “mine”, and that was it.’
‘I know.’ I roll over on my side and look out of my bedroom window at the lashing rain, crossing my fingers for a better day tomorrow. ‘That’s what’s so weird about this. I was disappointed that he didn’t kiss me, but I was even more baffled as to why I didn’t just take the lead.’
‘You must really like him. I’m so jealous. I had a Tinder date during the week—’
‘You never said! How was it?’
‘He spent the whole evening talking about bridges, then asked me if he could smell my armpit.’
‘WHAT?’ I let out an involuntary snort of laughter.
Sash sighs loudly. ‘I’m paraphrasing. Obviously. But he did talk about bridges a lot – did you know that the Millau Viaduct in France is so high it sometimes sticks out above the clouds?’
I quickly do a Google Image search on my phone. ‘Wow. That’s actually quite cool. Have you seen it?’
‘What? No. Is that really the focus here, Lex?’
‘Sorry. So, bridges. What else did you learn?’
‘That’s not funny.’ Sasha sounds exasperated but also amused. ‘He honestly managed to link every conversation to some kind of bridge trivia. Holidays, interests, work. Even the nostalgia route resulted in him telling me about the bridge cake his mum made for his birthday one year.’
‘That’s not so bad. We all had novelty cakes when we were kids.’
‘It was for his twenty-first,’ she wails. ‘And it was apparently a two-foot-high imitation of the Chang-yon Bridge in China.’
‘It’s actually the Chengyang Bridge,’
I correct her, scanning the information on the Wikipedia search result.
‘Seriously, Lex?’
‘Shit. Sorry.’ I press the home button on my phone and focus my attention on Sasha. ‘That’s a bit obsessive. So, where did the armpit request come in?’
‘I was so desperate to get off the subject of ruddy bridges, I started yakking on about what I had been doing that day. Mentioned that I’d been to Boots – and listed everything I bought there, including a new antiperspirant.’
‘And then he asked if he could smell your armpit?’
‘Well, no. He wasn’t saying anything. I’d finally found a topic he couldn’t link to bridges – so I rambled on about my new antiperspirant having a lovely fragrance, and how I kept getting wafts of it as I was talking to him.’
‘And then he asked if he could smell it?’
‘Yes. What a weirdo, right?’
I bite my lip to hold back the laughter. ‘Err… Sash. I think he was just being polite. He probably didn’t know how to respond to the crazy lady describing her shopping in detail.’
The line goes silent.
‘Sash?’
‘Oh, man. I’m a weirdo too.’ The wailing returns, having jumped an octave. ‘I’ve had so many bad dates, I’ve turned into a bad date. This is it, Lex – the point of no return. I’m going to be alone for ever.’
I have to stifle a laugh. Sash and Lex. Joined at the hip since ninety-three. Her, a serial dater with a dismal track record. Me, there to pick her up after another bad date.
‘No, you’re not,’ I reassure her. ‘When you meet someone you properly connect with, you’ll talk about good stuff. There may still be awkward silences – I can testify to that – but no more armpit or bridge chat, unless your dream man has a fetish you’re willing to entertain.’
‘Eugh, stop it!’ Sasha complains, but I can tell she finds it funny. ‘OK, that’s enough date chat. What else is happening?’
‘Not much really. I’ve started my leadership programme pre-work, and Danielle-the-devil-incarnate is still trying to oust me from my position. All is fine. Good, actually.’
‘And your health?’
I hesitate briefly. ‘No change really. I’m OK as long as I don’t push myself too hard and get a bit of rest. How about the situation with your mum?’ I’m keen to change the subject.
‘I’m working up to it. She knows something isn’t right. Keeps asking why I’m only calling rather than going round.’
‘Right.’ I get up from the bed and start to pace. ‘And do you feel able to do it, Sash? You’re stronger than you think, you know.’
‘I know.’ She says this in a small voice that suggests exactly the opposite.
‘You are. It’s going to be horrible, but remember our chat. Once you’ve done it, you can move on with your life and join me here. I’m sure that dreamy man you’re looking for is right here in this city, just waiting for you.’
‘You’re right. Putting it off is making it harder. I need to do it.’
‘You do. And you can. I’m here, as soon as you need me.’
‘Thanks, Lex. You’re the best. Oh, I almost forgot… I bumped into your sister the other day.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ I joke, but I feel a smidgen of hope. ‘And?’
‘She asked how you were doing. I told her you were great and how well you were doing in your job. She was her usual judgemental self, made some comment about how that won’t last long and how they’ll soon have to bail you out of the hole you’ve dug for yourself.’
‘No surprise there then. She just parrots everything that comes out of my mother’s mouth. Sad that she can’t develop her own world views.’ I keep my tone blasé, but I’m a little deflated by this.
‘Sorry, Lex.’
‘Don’t be. It is what it is. We’ve both been let down, but we have each other.’
‘We so do.’ Sasha’s tone becomes resolute. ‘I’m going to sort it – this weekend. And I’m going to apply for jobs in Birmingham as soon as I’ve done it.’
‘Good for you. You can sleep on my sofa bed if you need to for interviews, and while you find your own place.’
‘Thanks, Lex. Once again, you’re the best.’
‘You too.’ I smile affectionately at the phone. ‘Now go and pump yourself full of self-love and confidence. Good luck.’
* * *
A few hours later I’m camped out in front of the TV, laughing my way through back-to-back episodes of Friends. I’ve nothing but my duvet and some apple slices with peanut butter for company. And I’m completely content. Just months earlier I’d have wrinkled my nose in distaste at the idea of lounging around like this, and pulled on my running shoes. But having gotten used to the slower pace of life imposed upon me, I’m starting to appreciate that a bit of downtime is good for the soul. Especially when the rain outside is almost horizontal – and I have a date with a gorgeous man to look forward to (and be fit for) the next day.
Just as I’m checking tomorrow’s forecast on the BBC Weather app for the third time, my apartment buzzer sounds, making me jump. Assuming it’s a delivery person trying random apartment numbers to get access to the building, I ignore it. Someone else will let them in. But moments later the buzzer sounds again. I reluctantly get up and pad across to my apartment door, lifting the receiver for the door entry system.
‘Hello?’
There’s no response.
‘Anyone there?’
Still nothing.
Emitting an exasperated sigh, I return to the sofa, make myself comfortable again and hit play on the remote. The well-loved characters of Ross and Rachel immediately spring to life, playing out one of their many hilarious but flawed romantic encounters. I’m just settling into the episode again when there’s a knock at my apartment door. I quickly grab the remote and pause the episode, joining Ross and Rachel in a real-life freeze frame. I’m not expecting anyone. Not even a delivery. Deciding they must have the wrong apartment, I maintain my statue-like pose, listening for the sound of departing footsteps. But there’s no movement, and seconds later there’s another rap at my door.
Irritated by this intrusion and the fact that I’m having to get up again for no reason, I walk to the door, unlock it and yank it open.
‘I think you’ve got the wrong…’ I tail off in shock as I take in the masculine form standing in front of me. ‘Dom? What are you doing here?’
Chapter 22
‘Surprise.’ Dom grins sheepishly at me, his dark hair soaked from the storm outside, beads of rainwater running down his face.
I stare back at him, utterly bewildered. ‘I’m not sure that’s the appropriate… whatever… Dom, what are you doing here? How do you even know where I live?’
‘Can I tell you inside?’
‘Eh… yeah, I guess so.’ I step back and let him in.
Dom tentatively enters my postage stamp of a hallway and I close the door. The lack of space – and him clearly not wanting to presume that he’s going to be invited in properly – means we end up standing uncomfortably close, to the point that I can feel his breath on my neck as I turn away from the door.
‘Go on through.’ I usher him towards to my kitchen-living room.
‘This is nice.’ He strides into the room more confidently, like an estate agent sizing up the potential for sales commission. ‘It’s compact but has a nice aspect, and a balcony too. You’ve done well for yourself, kitten.’
I flinch at the use of my old pet name.
Realisation dawns on his face. ‘Shit. Sorry. Old habits and all.’
‘It’s fine. Do you want a cup of tea? And a towel?’
‘I’d love a brew, thanks, Lex. Can I at least call you Lex?’
‘Whatever.’ I shrug, this being far from the main thing on my mind.
I bring Dom a towel from my storage cupboard and busy myself making the tea as he lingers by the French windows, inspecting the shared garden beyond.
‘You not feeling so great today?�
� He shoots me a sympathetic look.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘The human-sized dog basket?’
I smile at his humour. ‘I’m fine. Just having a lazy day.’
‘Now I know you’re not right. You don’t choose to have lazy days. You’re as restless as a cat on a hot tin roof.’
‘Here, get that down you.’ I hand him a mug of tea.
‘Don’t suppose you’ve any biscuits?’
‘Sorry. Apple and peanut butter?’
‘Not ditched the obsession with healthy eating, I see. Surely a couple of biscuits on a Saturday isn’t the worst thing.’
I shrug and put my own mug on the coffee table, then clear my duvet to one side so we can both take a seat.
‘So, you’re doing OK? You’re coping all right down here?’ Dom ventures into the subject of my health once again, which irks me a little.
‘I’m doing fine, Dom. You don’t need to keep asking. Is it so strange to think that I’ve changed? That I might now enjoy a bit of R&R? We haven’t seen each other in months and a lot has happened since then.’
Dom looks like he’s been kneed in the balls. ‘Sorry. Just trying to be supportive.’
‘There’s no need. I’m doing fine by myself. What would be helpful is if you’d tell me what the hell you’re doing here.’ My words come out a little more aggressively than I’d intended. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean it like that. But this is a pretty big shock, and for some reason you’re the one asking the questions.’
‘I was being friendly… trying to chat. You know, like humans do.’
‘Don’t even try that management bullshit on me, Dom. Putting me at ease and strengthening the rapport between us before approaching a more challenging subject. It’s me you’re talking to, not one of your team.’
‘Right, sure.’ Dom shifts uncomfortably in his seat. ‘As you’re in no mood for the niceties, I’ll get to the point.’
‘Please do.’
‘Were you always this brutal?’
‘I’ve always been focused and to the point, you know that.’
‘Sure.’ He nods uncertainly, as if trying to flick through his brain’s memory bank to fact-check this. ‘Well, to answer your question about how I know where you live, I’ll fess up. I got in touch with your sister.’
