by Zoe May
‘This really is a good party,’ she adds.
‘Thanks. Derek wanted to shake things up and make a bit of a comeback so he decided to pull it out of the bag. I think he’s trying to show everyone what the agency’s capable of. Setting the standard for his worth,’ I add, blurting out the last line without any thought.
Damn it, I’m echoing Eve’s mantra, even though I’m not supposed to know anything about Brandon’s conversation with Eve. That was meant to be a private text chat between them. I’m not meant to know about it, let alone have had anything to do with it. Oh God. I take another sip of my drink, although I’ve probably already had too much. I regard Eve over the rim of my glass.
‘Sounds great,’ she says blankly.
‘Hmm, yeah, really great,’ I echo, frowning. It’s like she doesn’t have a clue. My comment hasn’t jarred her at all. I smile politely, wondering what happened to the cool, interesting, vibrant person I’d been messaging. That woman had a ton to say and I expected her to be just as interesting in person, but Eve seems totally different in real life. Brandon places his hand on Eve’s waist and gives her another one of those smitten looks. He seems completely taken with her. She must have some kind of social anxiety or something or be overwhelmed by the party. It’s the only reason I can think of as to why she’d be behaving in this way. But if she is feeling awkward, she’s covering it well. Apart from her verbal stuntedness, she looks completely at ease. She stands tall, looking poised and beautiful with a gorgeous smile on her fine-featured face. My mind is reeling. I turn to look at Andy and Katarina and for a second, I can’t spot them, until I realise they’ve moved off to sit at a table in the corner of the venue together. They’re huddled close, talking animatedly, their eyes fixed on one another as though they’re the only people in the room.
On the surface, both Katarina and Andy, and Eve and Brandon, appear like winning matches. And yet something’s not sitting right with me about either of the couplings. I can’t get my head around Andy and Katarina and there’s something odd about Eve too.
‘Are you okay, Polly?’ Brandon asks, and all of a sudden, I realise I’ve been watching Katarina and Andy with a deep frown. I must look like the most miserable matchmaker. I quickly correct my expression.
‘Yes! Fine!’ I insist, forcing a smile. ‘I think I’m just going to get some air,’ I add.
‘Ah okay, see you in a bit,’ Brandon says.
‘See you, Polly,’ Eve echoes, with a charming smile.
‘Yep, see you.’ I dash off before she has a chance to tell me how great it was to meet me.
I slip through the crowd and head out onto the street. The hum of conversation is replaced by the hum of New York traffic, the rumble of engines, the honk of a horn and the sound of a cool breeze rushing through the branches of a nearby tree. I know I shouldn’t really sit down on the stone steps, particularly in my nice new dress, but I can’t resist. I’m not used to wearing heels and I need a break. I need to relax while I try to fathom what’s going on.
I lower myself down and absently watch the passers-by when all of a sudden, my phone beeps. I take it out of my handbag. It’s a notification from Tinder. Urghh. Just what I need while I’m trying to make sense of all this dating related crap. But nevertheless, I enter the security code of my phone and open the message up. It’s from Eve. What the hell?! I never got round to logging out of Brandon’s account on there, or deleting it entirely. Why is Eve messaging him on there? They’ve got each other’s numbers. And anyway, they’re side by side at the party right now!
I open the message.
Eve: Hey.
‘Hey’?! Just ‘Hey’? What’s that meant to mean? If I was confused before, I’m even more confused now. I get up and look back through the glass door to the party. I can see Eve and Brandon. He’s leaning in close to say something and she’s listening intently. She’s holding a glass of champagne in one perfectly manicured hand and the other hand is resting on Brandon’s arm. There’s not a mobile phone in sight.
My phone buzzes again. It’s another message from Eve. What the hell?! She’s not even touching her phone. I open the message.
Eve: I miss chatting to you.
She’s still not touching her phone. What on earth is going on? Another message comes through.
Eve: You look stunning tonight. I love your new hair.
Okay, now I’m freaking out. I turn around and do a quick scan of the street and the park, but I can’t see anyone I recognise. My skin prickles and I have a horrible creepy feeling as though I’m being watched.
I bash out a quick message.
Brandon: Who is this??
I glance about as I hold my phone, waiting for it to buzz with a reply. A stooped homeless man draped in a ratty old blanket wanders past and asks for change. I’m so unnerved that I hand him the first dollar bill I can find: a twenty dollar note. Possibly a bit generous but who cares. Here I am at a beautiful party, it’s the least I can do. He looks delighted and shakes my hand. He tries to strike up a conversation, asking me about my night and for a moment, I look at him and wonder if it’s him. Could he have been messaging me? He starts asking me what I’m doing later.
‘Got any plans? How long’s this party going on for then?’ he asks.
I smile awkwardly. Does this guy actually want to hang out with me or something?
‘Umm… I’m not sure,’ I comment. I look back towards the party and I’m just about to make an excuse and head back in, when a movement catches my eye. A figure emerges from behind one of the pillars of the New York Public Library and passes down the stairs. It’s a man in a long dark coat with a familiar walk. I can’t quite make out his face, until he turns his head and the lamplight falls across his features, revealing a pair of round glasses, angular cheekbones and slicked back brown hair. It’s Olly. Olly Corrigan.
‘Olly,’ I utter, taking him in. He looks at me with a wry expression as he approaches, laced with something deeper: affection.
‘Is this your boyfriend?’ The homeless guy asks.
I’m about to answer when Olly slips his arm around my shoulders. ‘Yes. Sorry, I’m going to have to steal her from you,’ he says, in a jokey yet firm way.
‘Can’t blame a guy for trying.’ The homeless guy grumbles, before wandering off.
Olly and I stare at each other for a moment. His deep brown eyes are just as entrancing as always, and I feel my insides turn to mush.
‘Eve…’ I utter.
‘Hi Brandon,’ Olly says, the corner of his mouth curling up.
I open the message.
Chapter 22
I gawp at Olly, unable to believe it’s him. ‘What’s going on? What are you doing here?’
‘I gave Eve a lift,’ Olly explains, looking a little deflated. ‘She’s one of my clients.’ He clears his throat and glances to the ground. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.’
I laugh, with a mixture of relief and disbelief. I still can’t believe he’s here. Olly Corrigan is standing in front of me, looking ridiculously hot, and not only is it weird to see him since he’s been on my mind so much the past few days, but for some reason, he’s now following me, lingering behind pillars and messaging me as Eve.
‘Hiding behind pillars and sending people weird cryptic messages tends to have a startling effect,’ I point out.
‘Oh God, I’m so sorry,’ Olly says, rolling his eyes at his own idiocy. He glances after the homeless guy stumbling along the pavement and takes in the darkened street with fresh eyes. ‘Yeah, I can see why you freaked out. I didn’t mean to scare you.’
‘That’s okay,’ I mumble. I can feel the tension passing, but I’m still totally flummoxed by this whole thing. ‘So, it was you? The whole time, when I was pretending to be Brandon, I was really messaging you and you were pretending to be Eve.’
Olly nods. ‘Yep, I’m afraid so. I was trying to find Eve a date, the same way you were trying to fix up Brandon,’ Olly explains, regarding me with his sultry yet pla
yful eyes.
‘Right…’ I murmur. ‘But why were you trying to set up Eve? Surely your assistant would be handling stuff like that? All the swiping and messaging.’
‘Normally, yes, but Eve’s been near impossible to find a match for. I decided to take matters into my own hands,’ Olly says.
‘Just like Brandon,’ I mutter, averting my gaze towards a deserted park bench. It all makes perfect sense now, from the way Eve was messaging at times of the day I’d have imagined a high-flying banker to be busy, to her chatty, reflective character, which just didn’t fit with the person I just met. Of course, it wasn’t her that I was messaging. No wonder she looked blank when I inadvertently referenced our conversation. It should have occurred to me that she might be using a dating agency too.
‘You really do look stunning by the way. I love your new hair.’ Olly glances down at my dress, distracting me from my thoughts. ‘You look spectacular,’ he says in such a serious tone that I can’t help but laugh, even though my insides are turning to mush. Did he really just say I look spectacular? I can feel myself beginning to blush and so I look away from him, glancing down at my toes which are peeking out from my strappy sandals. They’re painted a blood red colour which is hopefully not reflected on my cheeks.
‘You really do. The hair’s great on you. It shows off your pretty face,’ Olly says, making my insides dissolve and my cheeks burn. I pray that the weak street light is too dim to reveal how much I’m blushing, but somehow, I doubt it.
‘Thank you,’ I croak, looking shyly towards him. He looks back at me with a cute, affectionate smile and takes a step forward, placing his hand on my arm. His touch feels electric. I look down at his fingers, which are tracing along my wrist. He’s wearing several chunky gold signet rings that catch the light, and his tattoos peek out from under the sleeves of his coat. I trace my gaze up, past his long, checked scarf, which I’m sure is by some up-and-coming edgy New York designer, back to his face. I drink it in. He looks even more handsome than usual in the glow of the fairy lights. His animated enigmatic eyes glimmer like his signet rings and his features look bright. He really is incredibly good-looking. He’s not like the other fashionistas in New York, who edit their photos to look better online; Olly truly is handsome. He’s naturally gorgeous. I can feel the blood pulsing through my veins as I gaze into his eyes. My hearts beat hard.
‘Wait.’ A thought hits me. ‘I still don’t get this whole thing. How did you know it was me pretending to be Brandon? How did you figure it out?’
‘Brandon came to see me when he was looking to sign with an agency,’ Olly explains. ‘When I followed up, he told me he’d signed with To the Moon & Back instead, so when I saw his profile on Tinder, I assumed you guys were running it. I didn’t realise it was you I was messaging at first and I was impressed by Derek’s chat, but then when I ran into you in that café and realised you were working for him, it all made sense. That’s when I realised it must be you I was messaging. Derek’s not that witty.’
‘Right…’ I mutter, taking it all in.
‘He’s not as interesting either,’ Olly adds with a wry smile.
I laugh weakly, as I do a mental re-run of all the things I said. None of it was too embarrassing – after all, I was trying to impress Eve into going on a date – but our conversations were still pretty intimate.
‘So, all those things you said, about believing in yourself and asserting your worth and everything, that was all you?’
‘Yeah.’ Olly smiles, a little bashfully. ‘I knew I should have stuck to the hey-how-are-you-fancy-a-drink script, but I got totally carried away.’
‘Same,’ I admit, thinking back to all the messages I sent, at any spare moment, while on the subway to work to late at night in bed.
‘Do you remember when we were messaging until 3 a.m.? I was absolutely shattered at work the next day,’ Olly laughs.
‘Me too! I think Derek thought I’d been out the night before,’ I say.
‘Yeah, my colleagues thought I’d been out too.’ Olly smiles mischievously.
For a moment, we just look at each other again, and it’s a look of both recognition and re-assessment as we morph into the new Olly and Polly. The Olly and Polly who are also Eve and Brandon, and everything else in between. It’s a strange feeling, to see Olly in this new light and yet everything is beginning to make total sense.
‘Now I understand,’ I think aloud.
‘What?’ Olly asks.
‘I spoke to Eve inside the party and she was nothing like the person I was chatting to online,’ I explain.
‘Oh yeah. She’s dull as dishwater,’ Olly says dryly.
I poke him, and he flinches. ‘Ouch,’ he grumbles, laughing.
‘She isn’t what I expected,’ I whisper, even though she’s deep inside the party and couldn’t possibly overhear. ‘She describes everything as “great”. And I mean everything.’
‘I know!’ Olly grins mischievously. ‘When I first met her, I couldn’t believe it. Single life was great. But finding someone would be great. And what was she looking for?’
‘Someone great?’ I suggest, giggling.
‘Too right!’ Olly laughs.
We both chuckle naughtily.
‘It’s surprising,’ I comment. ‘Brandon doesn’t seem to mind.’
‘Why’s that surprising?’ Olly asks, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head slightly.
‘Because Brandon’s…’ I pause, trying to think of a way to describe Brandon that doesn’t make it seem like I’m into him. I think Brandon’s a brilliant man and I don’t have anything other than glowing adjectives to use about him, but I’m definitely not into him anymore. ‘Brandon’s a high-flyer,’ I state. ‘He’s done so much, I thought he’d be looking for someone as vibrant as him.’
Olly scoffs. ‘I can tell you’re new to this.’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask, meeting his sardonic gaze.
‘Guys like Brandon don’t tend to want someone stimulating,’ Olly insists.
‘Why not?’ I ask.
‘He’s stimulated enough as it is, with his career and his businesses,’ Olly says. ‘A lot of guys like him view women as a way of letting off steam. They don’t care whether she’s interesting or not. In fact, the less interesting, the better. They just want someone who looks good on their arm, doesn’t cause too much drama and knows how to satisfy them in bed.’
In bed. The words rolling off Olly’s tongue are oddly distracting, and I can’t help thinking back to Gabe ribbing me for how long it’s been since I had any action. It doesn’t help that Olly’s still tracing his fingers over my wrist. I will my cheeks not to burn up again. I really don’t need Olly to see me turn into a flushed wreck at the mere mention of the bedroom.
‘Hmm…’ I murmur, trying to focus on the content of what he just said and not just the images of satisfying him in bed that are running through my mind. Brandon. Back to Brandon. I’m not sure if I buy into Olly’s theory about him. Sure, he’s a busy guy, but he doesn’t view women as Stepford-wife-style accessories. Eve may not have come across as the boldest, most interesting person around, but I don’t believe Brandon would be interested in her if she didn’t have some substance. He’s not that superficial.
‘Trust me. I’ve met a lot of men like Brandon,’ Olly continues. ‘They do so well because they compartmentalise and delegate so efficiently. They have their cleaners, their accountants, their personal trainers, and then they have their girlfriends.’
‘Oh, come on.’ I roll my eyes. ‘Surely it’s not that soulless?’
‘You’d be surprised,’ Olly insists, giving me a knowing look. I roll my eyes but I don’t bother to dispute him. I don’t know if it’s male competitiveness or what, but I can tell he’s pretty convinced about this theory he has on Brandon.
‘And you’re different then?’ I ask. Our eyes lock.
‘I’d like to think so.’ Olly takes a step closer. ‘I’m not perfect. I’m a far cry from perfect,’ he
sighs. ‘I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I definitely don’t want a girl who’s just going to laugh at my jokes and look pretty.’
I nod.
‘Although, I’m not saying you can’t laugh at my jokes,’ Olly adds. ‘They are pretty funny.’
I laugh, although underneath the amusement is the realisation that he just referred to me directly in a conversation about the kind of girl he wants. This isn’t just some late-night flirtation, he’s acting like he wants to be with me, as though he’s been toying with the idea of us being a couple. I gulp. This is unnerving. First, he turns out to be Eve and now this? Can this really be happening? He gazes at me with that intense penetrating look. I need to say something to break the tension that’s simmering in the air between us.
‘I really liked talking to Eve,’ I blurt out, a little nervously. ‘Like, really liked her! I was beginning to question my sexuality, I thought she was so cool. I was really sad when I had to let go.’
Olly grins. ‘Same.’
‘You could have carried on speaking to me if you’d fessed up earlier,’ I point out.
‘I could,’ Olly admits shyly, ‘and I probably should have. I suppose I was using Eve as a shield.’
‘A shield?’ I question.
‘Yeah.’ Olly glances sideways. Now it’s him who’s looking a little flushed and embarrassed. ‘A shield against rejection.’
‘Rejection?’ I scoff, frowning at him to see if he’s really being serious. Olly Corrigan was worried about rejection?!
‘Yeah, you’re pretty and young,’ he answers in a matter-of-fact way. ‘I’m twenty years older than you. I didn’t think you’d want to get to know me.’
He looks genuinely humble. Modest. Like he really doesn’t believe he’s a catch.
‘You’re Olly Corrigan. Surely, you’re inundated with girls wanting to get to know you,’ I comment. And it’s true. He’s smoking hot. He may be older, but it’s certainly not an issue for all the girls I’ve seen leaving flirty messages under every photo he posts online.
