When Polly Met Olly

by Zoe May

  ‘You’d be surprised. I get attention but it’s not always the right kind of attention,’ Olly says.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He looks into the middle distance as he thinks. ‘Let’s put it this way. I get attention from girls who want to be around me, not from girls who want to get to know me.’

  ‘Right…’

  ‘They know who I am. They know about my businesses. The parties I go to and the fancy bars. They want to get to know all of that, but they don’t want to get to know me. I could tell you weren’t that kind of girl. I was curious about you, and then when I realised it was you behind Brandon’s profile, I couldn’t resist getting to know you better.’ He scratches his head. ‘Well, as much as you can get to know someone when you’re pretending to be a 28-year-old woman.’

  I laugh. ‘This is so ridiculous. For two matchmakers, we couldn’t even matchmake ourselves.’

  ‘Hey, we kind of did…’ He reaches down and laces his fingers through mine, taking my hands, holding them gently. ‘In a roundabout way,’ he says, stroking my fingers with his thumbs.

  Every cell in my body springs alive at his touch. I hold his gaze. It feels like time is slowing down as he gazes into my eyes and lowers his lips towards mine. I close my eyes. My insides have turned to mush, and I can’t remember ever having wanted to kiss someone so badly.

  ‘Olly!’ A man’s voice interrupts.

  We both look over to see Derek bursting through the venue doors, with a sweaty and slightly red-faced Andy Graham in tow. Olly immediately let’s go of my hands and we spring apart.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Derek’s eyes roam between us. ‘I though you said he was going to be leaving us alone from now on?’ he asks me, looking aggrieved.

  I did promise Derek that while filling him in a few days ago on what happened with Elliot Brown and my conversation with Olly in his office. It’s no wonder he’s not exactly pleased to see Olly lingering outside his party.

  ‘I was just… Sorry, Derek. I was just passing by,’ Olly says with a sheepish air.

  ‘Right. Well, this is a private party,’ Derek informs him snootily. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. The catty competitiveness between these two is just silly.

  ‘It’s okay, I’ll be off,’ Olly says.

  I look at him imploringly. Does he really need to head off?

  ‘It’s Derek’s party,’ her says in a resigned tone. ‘I don’t want to step on his toes. I’ve already done enough of that the past few months,’ he says in a voice quiet enough that Derek won’t hear.

  ‘Okay,’ I sigh.

  Our eyes lock and I desperately want to lean forward and kiss him as we were just about to before Derek interrupted, but I can feel Derek watching me. Olly glances over my shoulder towards Derek, confirming my suspicions that his eyes are lasering into my back. He’s no doubt wondering what the hell I’m doing standing out here with Olly Corrigan.

  ‘I’ll message you,’ Olly says in a low voice.

  ‘Okay.’ I take a step closer and whisper into his ear, ‘Bye Eve.’ I lightly squeeze his hand, subtly enough so that Derek probably can’t see, as my cheek brushes against his. It feels like our bodies are electrodes and a current is passing through us. Our eyes meet, our lips only inches apart.

  ‘Bye Brandon,’ he says with a wink.

  I smile and let go of his hand as we pull away.

  ‘See you later, Derek,’ Olly calls over my shoulder. ‘Looks like a great party,’ he adds with what sounds like genuine warmth but I can’t quite tell. I can’t quite understand the vibe between these two.

  ‘Hmmpph… Bye,’ Derek grumbles.

  Olly gives me one final look – intimate, affectionate and yet self-conscious – before saying goodbye one last time, walking away and hopping into a nearby cab.

  I really wish I could go with him. There are so many things I want to talk about. I want to continue the conversations I had with him as Brandon, but be able to engage with them properly, to fully be myself and to truly find out about him. But he’s slipping away into the night, probably back to whatever swanky apartment he owns. I watch as he opens the cab door and looks over his shoulder at me as he gets in. We smile at each other and then he gets inside, the cab pulls away from the kerb and disappears down the street, its rear lights shimmering in the darkness.

  ‘Polly, what’s going on?’ Derek asks, bringing me back to reality.

  ‘Oh…’ I turn around to see him and Andy staring at me. ‘Err, I’m not sure.’

  ‘Oh no.’ Derek rolls his eyes. ‘Please don’t tell me you have a crush on Olly?’

  ‘No!’ I squawk with an awkward laugh.

  ‘How has he managed that?’ Derek huffs. ‘Poaching my clients, dating my staff.’

  ‘We’re not dating,’ I point out, although I can’t help wishing that we were. ‘And he’s not poaching your clients anymore. He’s backed off.’

  ‘Hmm… Well, we’ll see. But don’t go there. He’s a player. You don’t want to end up falling for someone like that,’ Derek advises.

  I try to shrug off what he’s saying as just another element of his professional disdain for Olly, but the look of sincere concern in his eyes is a little unnerving.

  ‘I need to get back inside,’ Andy pipes up. I’d almost forgotten he was there, lingering behind Derek. He wipes sweat from his brow with the back of his palm. He looks flushed – hot and bothered.

  ‘No, give me a second,’ Derek says. ‘Look, I don’t mean to be rude or anything.’ He claps his hand on Andy’s shoulder in a matey way. ‘But cool it with the PDAs, buddy.’

  I raise an eyebrow. PDAs?

  ‘I get that you and Katarina are excited to meet and can’t keep your hands off each other and that’s great, but I don’t want people getting the wrong idea about this party.’

  The wrong idea? What has Andy been up to, the dirty dog? Now I see why he looks so hot and bothered.

  ‘Sorry Derek. I guess we were just so excited to meet that we got carried away.’

  I raise an eyebrow.

  ‘It’s understandable, but tone it down a bit, buddy,’ Derek suggests.

  ‘Maybe it’s time for us to go somewhere a little more private,’ Andy comments, with a slightly lewd look in his eyes.

  I can’t help balking at him. Here’s me being too afraid to kiss Olly or even hold hands with him in front of Derek, while Andy’s clearly been brazenly getting it on with Katarina.

  ‘Well, that’s up to you, but you know, maybe just tone down the canoodling in corners,’ Derek says with a stern tone to his voice. I can’t help giggling. Canoodling?

  Derek shoots me a look and I immediately cup my hand over my mouth and pretend to cough, averting eye contact.

  ‘Got it,’ Andy says, smiling. ‘We’ll tone it down.’

  ‘Great. Thanks mate,’ Derek says, clapping his hand on Andy’s back as he turns to head back into the party.

  We all go back inside. The party’s in full swing now, most of the guests are a couple of drinks down and the conversation’s flowing. Everyone seems to be having a good time, mingling and chatting, while enjoying the canapes and drinks. Derek and I stand on the steps and take it in. I watch as Andy heads back to Katarina who’s sitting in a booth delicately sipping champagne and grinning excitedly at Andy.

  ‘I can’t believe those two,’ Derek says. ‘They were all over each other. Thought we were going to have a live sex show on our hands. I had to practically tear them apart.’

  I burst into laughter as a waiter comes along with a tray of champagne. Both Derek and I reach for a glass.

  Derek takes a sip and lets out a weak laugh. ‘I can see why it’s funny to you, but it was such an ordeal tearing Andy away from her. I was really worried about what people might start saying about the party, particularly as Katarina doesn’t exactly look like the kind of woman who’d be all over Andy. At least not for free.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ I take a sip of champagne. So, Derek was worried
Katarina might look like paid company. ‘What do you think her deal is?’ I ask. ‘I saw her on Match. We chatted a bit, but I thought she was far too glamourous for Andy. I found him this lovely girl called Heather who was into museums and Harry Potter but apparently she wasn’t his type. I never thought he’d get on with Katarina.’

  ‘Well, it’s interesting,’ Derek says, watching with a look of trepidation as Katarina and Andy slip their arms around each other’s waists, cosying up. ‘She’s a model, but apparently it’s just something she does on the side to support herself. It turns out she’s studying for a PhD on eugenics in Nazi Germany and apparently the two hit it off discussing the Second World War. They both have a passion for history.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Yeah!’ Derek laughs, shaking his head. ‘That’s how they bonded. Katarina’s incredibly bright. I looked her up on my phone, her work’s been cited in hundreds of academic journals. She and Andy have really hit it off intellectually, and romantically too it seems! It’s sweet, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, it is,’ I admit, as I watch her cuddling up to Andy. They look like the most unlikely match and yet they’re clearly getting along like a house on fire. I feel a little ashamed of myself as I take them in. I’m the superficial one, not Katarina. Here she is, connecting with someone because of their shared interests, while I’ve been hung up on looks. I think about Brandon and how I fancied him because he looks like something out of a high-end fashion magazine, and yet it took me ages to see that beyond Olly’s tattoos and wacky clothes, there might be more to him.

  ‘We try our best to match clients with people we think are right for them, but sometimes there’s no rhyme or reason to attraction, it just happens between the people you’d least expect,’ Derek comments thoughtfully, taking a sip of his champagne.

  ‘You’re right,’ I say, thinking of Brandon and Eve. Eve might seem different in person to how I imagined her, but there must be something there – some connection at draws her and Brandon together and I might never fully understand it, because love isn’t a checklist. It’s not about criteria; it’s a weird alchemy that’s almost impossible to understand. People like Olly might try to write off guys like Brandon and claim they know why they go for certain women, but you can never really tell what draws one person to another.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Derek asks, eyeing me as he takes a sip of his drink.

  I blink, coming back out of my thoughts. ‘It’s just this job, it’s teaching me more about romance than I expected,’ I admit.

  Derek smiles. ‘Yeah, it has that affect. I’ve been married to my wife for twenty years, but I’m still learning new things about love and relationships every day thanks to this job.’

  ‘You’re good at it though, Derek. Genuinely.’ Derek may not have the flashiest of offices or slickest of websites, but he does understand romance. He understands people and he’s patient and kind with them. He’s warm and welcoming and that trickles down to everyone around him. I only need to look at the party-goers, having a brilliant time, all loved up and happy and content, to see that Derek knows what he’s doing. This isn’t some desperate singles party or some sort of superficial meat market, this is a celebration of love, just like Derek said it would be.

  ‘Thanks Polly, that’s sweet of you,’ Derek says just before another one of his former clients, an attractive dark-haired woman called Leila who I recognise from one of the website’s success stories, comes over to say hello and sweeps him up into a hug.

  ‘Leila, meet Polly, my star matchmaker,’ Derek says, turning to me and bringing me into the fold. I grin and reach to shake Leila’s hand, which is now adorned with a wedding ring.

  Chapter 23

  I hobble into the kitchen the following morning in a hungover daze and flick on the kettle. I need coffee. Gabe is asleep on the sofa, still in last night’s make-up and dress. It’s one I’ve seen before – a particularly garish pink number covered in sequins. He’s teamed it with a blonde wig that’s sliding off his head. I spoon some coffee granules into the mug and listen to the kettle boiling before pouring in the steaming water. Coffee in hand, I make my way over to the armchair and snuggle into it. Gabe’s snoring lightly. The curtains are closed even though it’s daylight outside and the sunlight filters through the green fabric, giving the room a muted hue, which suits my still half-asleep mood. I place my steaming mug down on the coffee table and retrieve my phone from my dressing gown pocket. There’s already a message alert from Tinder.

  Eve: Hey gorgeous. Forgot to get your number last night so it looks like I’m still Eve for now ;)

  I smile to myself. Being called gorgeous by Olly is such a thrill.

  Brandon: Hey you. Yes, lets switch to our real numbers. This whole Brandon-Eve thing is probably not healthy :p

  Eve: No, probably not. Who knows where we could end up?

  Brandon: *Cries out ‘Eve’ in bed*

  I type mischievously.

  Eve: *Eve – I mean Olly – gets too excited by the thought of Olly and Polly in bed together to think of a witty response*

  ‘Why are you smiling like that?’ Gabe grumbles. I glance up to see him watching me from under his huge false lashes, his eyes sleepy but curious.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Are you sexting or something?’ Gabe asks, reaching for a glass of something clear on the table, which I’m really hoping is water and not last night’s vodka and tonic.

  ‘No!’ I scoff. Gabe gives me a knowing look.

  ‘Okay, maybe. Kind of. But was it really that obvious?!’

  Gabe takes a sip of his drink. ‘Umm, yeah!’ he says, placing the glass back down. ‘You had that naughty look about you.’

  ‘Oh God,’ I groan. ‘Remind me never to sext in public!’

  Gabe laughs. ‘Please tell me it’s Olly Corrigan you’re messaging and not just some random girl on Tinder,’ he pleads.

  I grin. ‘Yeah, it’s Olly! Definitely not a random girl.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ Gabe’s eyes light up. ‘Wow! Tell me everything!’ He sits up, suddenly bright and alert.

  I reach for my coffee. ‘Okay, so…’ I launch into the whole story of messaging Olly as Brandon and thinking he was Eve, before explaining everything about how the truth emerged at the party last night.

  ‘That is so incredibly cute! And weird!’ Gabe enthuses. ‘No wonder you were putting in so much overtime. Messaging Eve all evening even after work. I thought you were taking the whole matchmaker thing a bit too seriously, but if it was Olly the whole time, then it makes perfect sense!’

  ‘Well, kind of. Except, I didn’t know it was Olly. I just thought Eve was super interesting.’

  ‘Right.’ Gabe nods, frowning a little. I can tell he still finds the matchmaking world a bit strange. ‘So, Olly has it all. The looks, the personality, the businesses, the success…’

  ‘Yep, so far so good!’

  ‘Wow!’ Gabe gushes. ‘Can you imagine if you were his girlfriend?! It would be the coolest thing! Olly knows everyone, doesn’t he? And he goes to all the coolest places. Doesn’t he have like half a million followers on Instagram?’

  ‘Erm…’ I hesitate. ‘Yeah, he has quite a lot.’

  I think back to last night when Olly made that comment about women being interested in him for his lifestyle rather than being into him simply for him. No wonder he feels like that when people like Gabe’s first reaction is to get excited over his wealth and status.

  ‘What’s up?’ Gabe narrows his eyes at me.

  ‘Oh, nothing.’ I bat the thought away. ‘Let me just quickly text him back.’

  ‘Alright. I’m going to make a coffee,’ Gabe says, dragging himself up.

  Brandon: Sorry just got interrupted by my hungover flatmate. Anyway, here’s my number.

  I add my number, before adding a second message.

  Brandon: Looking forward to chatting more, Eve. Oops, I mean Olly ;)

  I send the message and then flick through the pictures of Eve, looking
so polished and pretty. The whole time we were messaging, I’d imagined her in some pencil skirt suit in a corporate office or relaxing at home with her tousled side plait. It’s funny to rethink all those moments and picture Olly in his trendy office, holding his phone in his tattooed arms, his signet rings glinting as he typed messages.

  ‘Still day dreaming about sexy time with Olly?’ Gabe jokes as he returns to the sofa.

  ‘Maybe…’ I comment cheekily.

  Gabe places his coffee cup down on the table, making room by moving a flyer from The Eagle advertising last night’s show, billed as a ‘pop extravaganza’.

  A silence passes between us.

  ‘So, how was last night?’ I ask.

  ‘It was good,’ Gabe says, hesitantly. I can tell he’s holding something back.

  ‘Just good?’

  ‘Yeah, it was fun. I did a few Madonna covers, it was cool, but they’ve hired this new guy. That George Michael impersonator Jim mentioned. He’s Cypriot and honestly, he’s the spitting image of George Michael – a young sexy George Michael that is. Everyone was going absolutely wild for him. It’s like everyone’s favourite sex symbol has come back from the dead.’

  ‘Uh-huh…’ I take a sip of coffee. Gabe reaches for the flyer.

  ‘But the thing is, he can’t sing. He’s not versatile at all. He only sings George Michael songs because he’s got the look and he can just about get through the big hits. Just about. I guess he’s had a lot of practice so he manages not to hit too many bum notes, but he’s got such a bad voice and the annoying thing is that no one seems to mind. Everyone loves him,’ Gabe says sadly, absently fidgeting with the corner of the flyer. He folds it over and then flattens it back out. ‘It just got me thinking that you were right. I am too good for that place. I’m more than just a pop star lookalike.’

  ‘Of course, you are. You can actually sing,’ I point out.

  ‘Exactly. And the sad thing about the people at The Eagle is they don’t care if you can sing or not. They just want a hot guy to look at and pop songs to dance to when they’re drunk. They’re not really bothered about quality,’ Gabe says sadly and although he looks down, I can’t help but feel happy for him. Finally, the penny’s dropped. Finally, he realises he can do better than The Eagle.