When Polly Met Olly

by Zoe May

  ‘I’m so sorry, Polly,’ Olly says, his eyes full of sincerity. ‘I didn’t behave well. I shouldn’t have just kicked Leila out of the agency, that was cowardly. I could have got one of my colleagues to look after her as a client, but she was freaking me out. I couldn’t handle her behaviour, so I took the easiest option.’ Olly sighs.

  ‘What do you mean she was “freaking you out”?’ I ask. As far as Derek’s story went, it was only Olly who was behaving badly.

  ‘We spent the weekend together and the next day, she messaged me a hundred times. Literally. I was at work, so I couldn’t reply. She tried to call over and over and left a ton of voicemails. I mean a ton. Thirty. I knew then why she was single. I’d found it baffling before. She was pretty, she seemed to have a good personality. Perhaps she was a bit picky, but I couldn’t see why she hadn’t found a boyfriend, particularly considering how hard she’d been trying, but then I realised that she was kind of obsessive who stalks all her dates. I was busy with work so I ignored her. I turned my mobile off and finally got some peace. The next day, I turned it on and a tsunami of messages flooded in again. I ignored them all and then you’ll never guess what she did…’ Olly sighs, shaking his head.

  ‘What?’ I ask a little apprehensively.

  ‘She called the office and convinced one of the interns she was my mother and that she was sick and urgently needed to speak to me. The intern pulled me out of an important meeting, told me there was a family emergency and naturally, I started freaking out. My mum has a heart murmur, I was worried something really serious might have happened. Then I answered the phone and it was Leila. She was ranting at me with a barrage of angry accusations and insisting that I’d used her, that I was a terrible person, all sorts. I was in the middle of the office. I couldn’t have that kind of conversation – and I didn’t even want to have that conversation. As far as I was concerned, I didn’t owe her anything. We’d spent less than twenty-four hours in each other’s company and yet she was demanding all this attention from me. I flipped out. The mother thing really wound me up so I told the intern there and then to terminate her contract and refund her, then I called my mobile provider and blocked her number.’

  ‘Wow. Derek definitely didn’t tell me that part,’ I utter, in shock.

  ‘No, I didn’t think he would have. I don’t think he even knows. I may not have behaved particularly well but I didn’t go around trashing Leila across town. Unfortunately, she didn’t spare me the same courtesy,’ Olly comments bitterly.

  ‘I would never have thought she was like that. I met her at the Valentine’s Day party and she seemed really nice.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Olly nods. ‘She seems a lot better now. I know I whinge about Derek, but I think he helped her out. Derek’s a good guy.’

  I stare at Olly, trying to take all of this in. He’s complimenting Derek. Not long ago, these two were arch nemeses.

  ‘Derek treated Leila with a lot more kindness than I did,’ Olly says sadly, and I can tell he really does feel remorseful.

  ‘She sounded crazy. And what she did with pretending to be your mum – that’s just nuts.’

  ‘Yeah, but she needed support. Probably professional support and all I did was treat her like a nuisance. I didn’t try to help her. That’s the difference between Derek and me. He’s patient. He treats people like people. He doesn’t just try to create efficient business-like love matches like I do, eliminating people when they no longer fit the right requirements.’

  Olly’s right. Derek does have a remarkably personal approach. He cares about everyone, and not just in a broad meaningless way but in a personal sensitive way. Even I’ve been affected by it. I’d been lost in New York before I met him and he’s helped me find a sense of belonging. He’s been caring and sweet, despite his shady past. He’s become something of a father figure to me.

  ‘Derek is pretty cool,’ I comment.

  ‘Yeah, he’s a good guy,’ Olly agrees.

  ‘But I still don’t understand. How come you suddenly closed down the business? How come you’ve suddenly had all these revelations? What caused it all?’

  ‘Another question avalanche,’ Olly jokes. ‘I know you’re probably not going to believe this, but last weekend genuinely meant something to me and when you stopped talking to me, it got me thinking. I started reflecting on everything. I figured you’d been talking to Derek. I could see why you wouldn’t want to talk to me. I spend all my time focusing on my clients and trying to set them up with people, but I have no luck in romance myself. My love life has been a mess for years, ever since my divorce. Actually, it was a mess while I was married too!’ Olly laughs, rolling his eyes.

  ‘The thing is,’ he continues, ‘I’m good at finding matches for other people but I can’t seem to find anyone for myself. I felt like a hypocrite. When I realised you didn’t want to date me, it forced me to take a long hard look in the mirror. I realised my approach to love has been all wrong. All this time, I’ve been going for people I thought would be right for me: women around my age, high-flying career women with a certain look and then you came along. You weren’t the kind of person I’d expected to fall for and yet I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. You made me realise that finding someone you like isn’t about ticking off a mental checklist of criteria; it just happens sometimes. I started to realise that my approach to love has been wrong all this time. I felt unqualified to run a dating agency given that I’m still figuring all this stuff out.’

  Olly sighs, before continuing. ‘It pains the businessman in me to admit it, but I got thinking about what you told me about Derek and his wife’s medical bills. Someone like Derek is better suited to running a dating agency than me. He’s actually found love, he’s a caring guy. I’ve just been this dog-eat-dog idiot thinking only about myself. I have my PR agency to worry about, we’re already doing well. It occurred to me that maybe I should step down and leave the dating side of things to Derek.’ He smiles awkwardly, looking sheepish.

  ‘Okay, wow…’ I murmur, taking it in. I think back to the message he sent me the other night when he mentioned that he wanted to make some ‘big changes’ to his life.

  ‘Is this what you meant in that message when you said you wanted to make big changes?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes,’ Olly admits.

  I can’t help feeling bad that while he was reflecting and striving to make changes to his life, I was just ignoring him completely. I guess I just thought I was yet another one of his girls; it never occurred to me that Olly might actually care, really care. And it had never occurred to me that deep down, he might respect Derek.

  ‘I can’t believe I was the trigger,’ I comment, feeling almost guilty. Meeting me seems to have completely shaken Olly up.

  ‘Yes.’ Olly looks deep into my eyes and my stomach does that twisty nervous excited thing again. ‘Why do you find that so hard to believe, Polly?’ Olly asks, holding my gaze. ‘Our date was good, wasn’t it? We had a good time, didn’t we?’

  I think of how it felt to be lying in Olly’s bedroom – the smell of his sheets, the cosy feeling, the late-night confessions, the sense of intimacy and belonging, of feeling like I had a safe warm cocoon in this big crazy city. It’s an understatement to say we had a good time; it was bloody brilliant. It was perfect. Except, while it may have felt unique and novel for me to be lying in his arms chatting late into the night, it wasn’t novel for Olly.

  ‘It was amazing. But it wasn’t unique to me, was it? You took Leila to The Fifth as well! She came back to your place and you stayed up late chatting to her too. I guess when you find a date idea that works, why deviate from it?’ I say bitterly.

  Olly visibly winces. ‘You hit the nail on the head,’ he says sheepishly. ‘I found a date routine that worked, and I kept using it.’

  I sink my head into my hands. ‘Great,’ I grumble, looking over my shoulder towards the door. I almost want to get up and go.

  ‘Hear me out,’ Olly says, sensing my discomfort. ‘Y
ou know that thing I was saying about reducing people to a checklist of qualities and trying to make efficient matches, well, I applied that same no-nonsense approach to my own dating life. I got a date routine down and I just kept using it. I’ll admit, it was soulless. I somehow became a bit soulless. It wasn’t deliberate, but I’m a businessman. In PR, I run a smooth efficient ship. We hit targets week in, week out. We’re ruthlessly efficient and our clients love us, but you can’t run a dating agency like that. A dating agency needs heart and that’s where I was lacking.’

  ‘I see.’ I can’t bring myself to look at him.

  ‘I developed a good date routine, but all I was having were good dates. And yes, I had fun, but I wasn’t truly connecting with anyone,’ Olly says.

  I steal a glance at him. He looks embarrassed, but his eyes are sincere and vulnerable. He picks up a pen from his desk and spins it around nervously between his fingers.

  ‘Things were different when you and I had our date. I’ll admit, I rolled out the usual date routine, but I truly enjoyed it with you. With you, it wasn’t just a good date, it was a fantastic date. I felt the spark and I know that sounds a bit lame coming from someone like me, but I did. I’d truly begun to wonder if I’d ever feel that again. I’ve dated amazing women since my wife and I split up, but I didn’t connect with any of them like I connected with you.’

  ‘Really?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes, really,’ Olly says, his eyes unmoving from mine. ‘I know on paper, we’re probably not a conventional match. I’m twenty years older than you. I’ve grown a bit cold and cynical, whereas you’re still heartfelt and open and optimistic. But for some reason, I feel like we work well together. It’s like some strange alchemy happens when we’re together. We click. And sparks fly.’

  Olly looks into my eyes with such affection and tenderness, and I want to say something, but I feel overwhelmed and lost for words.

  Olly smiles to himself. ‘I always thought that was just a lame phrase from romance novels or movies but I feel it when I’m around you. I literally feel it.’ Olly looks into my eyes. ‘Okay, well not literally, flying sparks might be kind of painful, but you know what I mean, don’t you?’

  I nod, smiling. ‘I totally know what you mean,’ I say, my eyes soaking him up. When I’m around him, I feel like I’m drinking him in, absorbing him, uninterested in anything else. It doesn’t matter whether we’re wrapped in each other’s arms in Olly’s bed, cocooned in the sheets, when we’re around each other, nothing else matters. It’s like the real world just disintegrates, everything beyond a small radius of each other just falls away. Remembering about the real world, I suddenly look over my shoulder to catch several of Olly’s colleagues watching us through the glass panels of the office. They quickly look away. Olly sees me looking and gets up to pull a blind across the window.

  ‘Nosy bastards,’ he tuts.

  I laugh as he sits back down. All the way on the opposite side of the desk. He feels too far away. I get up and walk around towards him and instantly, our bodies connect like magnets seizing upon each other. Olly slips his arms around my waist and I wrap mine around his shoulders. I sit on his lap and he pulls me close. We kiss. Hungrily and yet gently. I brush his hair from his forehead and gaze into his eyes. They’re so rich and full of emotion and even though he may be a bit of a player with quite a few notches on his bed post, I know he’s being genuine when it comes to me. I can feel it. He isn’t faking this. Our date may have been formulaic, but the look in his eyes is most definitely not a routine.

  ‘Oh God,’ I sigh. ‘I missed you, Olly. I’m so sorry for ignoring you. I was just hurt. I didn’t want to get close to you and then to end up as just another girl tossed onto the scrap heap.’

  Olly laughs. ‘Bit harsh!’ He wraps his arms tighter around my waist. ‘I’d never throw you onto the scrap heap. You’ve changed everything for me.’

  ‘Everything?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah. I didn’t think I’d fall in love but then you made me realise I might be wrong. You made me realise I’m a total phoney. I go around matching people, creating relationships, when I can’t even have a relationship myself. I can’t even have original dates, let alone relationships!’

  I laugh as I play with his hair, cup my hand on his jaw, soak him in.

  ‘You made me realise that I need to experience love properly before I can go about being a matchmaker,’ Olly says.

  ‘I know the feeling,’ I sigh. ‘So that was the “change to your personal circumstances” on the press release then?’

  ‘Yes,’ Olly admits.

  I can’t help smiling, thinking of that official-sounding press release having such a personal and vulnerable side to it.

  ‘I don’t want to run a dating agency anymore,’ Olly says. I just want to date. I want to figure love out for myself. And if you’re up for it, I’d like to date you, from scratch this time,’ Olly says with a warm wide smile. He reaches up to my face and strokes his finger along my cheek, adoringly.

  ‘Okay, I think that could be arranged,’ I say, leaning in for another kiss.

  Chapter 30

  I’m not really sure that Olly or I knew what to do for our first proper unscripted date, so like most couples in the early stages of dating, we decided to go to a nice restaurant for lunch. Olly said we could go anywhere, and I knew he genuinely meant anywhere, and so I suggested Per Se – the new French bistro with the review I circled in Time magazine a few weeks ago. It felt too tempting. After all, I’ve been dreaming of going to nice restaurants like that ever since I arrived in New York and what better opportunity than to go with a guy I’m really into.

  We meet at Grand Central Station and have a drink at Campbell Bar to catch up before heading to the restaurant. Campbell Bar is another place I’ve always wanted to go. The converted office of a Jazz Age financier, it’s like something from The Great Gatsby with low lighting, and leather, wood and brash furnishings. Olly and I order bourbon cocktails and sit in the corner, chatting away as we sip our drinks. He’s dressed up for our date, donning a white shirt and cable knit sweater, and with his tortoiseshell glasses and classic handsomeness, he looks almost like he could belong in the Twenties, except for his signet rings and the tattoos poking out from under his sleeves. I lace my fingers through his, the butterflies on his arms like the ones in my stomach.

  We finish our drinks and walk through Grand Central Station. Its marble walls and floor give the light a buttery sepia hue. A saxophonist busks, playing bluesy melodies, with an upturned hat on the ground to collect change from passers-by. Olly drops a few dollars and we walk arm-in-arm, the sound growing quieter as we leave the station. I feel like I’m starring in a Twenties movie and I couldn’t be happier. But for once, I feel like the lead character and not just someone on the sidelines. It’s magical.

  We walk a few blocks towards Per Se and join a small queue of people waiting to get in. Clearly, everyone’s been reading the rave reviews the restaurant’s been getting as it’s already bustling even though it’s only been a few weeks. I glance down the queue and spot a woman dressed in an expensive-looking long lace maxi dress standing a few places in front of me and Olly with long luscious blonde hair. Her laugh is familiar and it’s only when she tosses her hair over her shoulder and glances over that I realise who it is: it’s Alicia. She’s dyed her hair from brown to blonde but it’s her alright. She clocks me too, after a second’s pause, no doubt taken aback by my new haircut. She then quickly looks away, glancing at Olly instead. From the quirk of her eyebrow I can tell she recognises him. She frowns in puzzlement as she turns back to her companion; she’s clearly wondering what the hell Olly and I are doing together.

  ‘Why are you cowering?’ Olly asks, and it’s only then that I realise I’ve shrunk behind him a little bit.

  ‘Oh. That girl.’ I nod my head in Alicia’s direction. ‘She’s just someone I know. We had a bit of a fall out,’ I tell Olly.

  He looks at me, curiously, as though expecting more.
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  ‘I took pictures for her wanky cookbook, she didn’t credit me, so Brandon sued her.’

  Olly snorts with laughter so loudly that Alicia turns around, looking a little irritated. ‘Are you serious?’ Olly whispers.

  ‘Yep!’

  ‘Brandon worked his legal wonders! Wow.’

  ‘I look after my clients, they look after me,’ I reply.

  Olly laughs. ‘You sound like the mafia.’

  As the queue nudges slowly forward, I fill Olly in on the whole story. He gets his phone out and looks Alicia up on Instagram.

  ‘Olly!’ I hiss. ‘Not here. What if she sees?’

  Olly rolls his eyes indulgently. ‘She’s not going to see,’ he says, holding his phone close as he scrolls through her feed.

  ‘Fine,’ I sigh, cupping my hand behind his phone to make sure it’s tilted away from her.

  ‘Big fan of bananas, isn’t she?’ Olly comments, scanning a few pictures Alicia posted about a banana smoothie recipe. ‘They really shouldn’t be a health food, do you know how packed they are with sugar?’ Olly says, before launching into a story about a friend of his who had some kind of issue with diarrhoea while following a banana smoothie diet. I’m half-listening but I can’t help glancing over at Alicia. The last time I saw her, I found her kind of intimidating with her bossy attitude and army of cool friends, but now I don’t feel any of that. I feel confident and happy, content in my own skin. I feel like a different person. It’s strange to look at her with completely different eyes and realise that she’s not intimidating to me now at all.

  The maître d’ ushers the people in front of her into the restaurant and then with a strained bright look, Alicia plasters a smile onto her face and asks for a table for two.