by Hannah Doyle
‘Ooh Cheesy Wotsits! Retro!’
‘I went big,’ she claps. ‘You sounded weird on the phone, what’s up?’
‘Yes, spill,’ says Mum, handing us both a cup of tea and helping herself to a packet of Frazzles.
‘Promise you won’t laugh at me?’
Mum and Mila nod solemnly.
‘Oh gaaaaaaaahhhd. It’s awkward. And embarrassing. I’ve been driving myself crazy recently thinking about a boy.’
‘Ooh!’ says Mum.
‘Excellent,’ adds Mila. ‘A new potential!’
‘That’s the problem, he’s not really new. He’s, um. . .’
‘You’d better not be going back to James,’ Mila scowls. ‘Or Zach. Or Hot Tom, for that matter.’
‘No, no, nothing like that. Even handsy old Too Much Thierry was an improvement on those fools.’
Mila smiles in approval and hands me some Space Raiders. ‘So what’s up?’
‘I’ve been wondering if there’s something more between Ben and I than just friendship,’ I blurt out super-fast.
There’s silence. Mum and Mila are exchanging looks. I blow on my hot tea and wonder whether I should run up to my old bedroom and lock myself in like the old days.
Eventually Mum clears her throat. ‘Has something happened?’
I explain all about the awkward moments at Ben’s, the weird fizz when our fingers touched and his apparent annoyance at the boys I’ve been dating. ‘But falling for your best friend is a huge cliché, right? I’m probably overthinking things.’
Mila drums her fingers on the table while she thinks. ‘Interesting. There’s no doubt that Ben is awesome and he’ll make someone super happy when he’s ready for a relationship. And the thought that you two might make a good match did cross my mind when Ben was hinting about wanting to settle down when we had breakfast in the park the other day. What do you think Linda?’
‘The important thing to figure out is how he makes you feel, Jazzy. Do you get butterflies when you’re together? Does he make you feel special, like date three with Alessandro? Or listened to, like Ralph on date four? Or is it purely a friend-thing that you’ve briefly confused for something else, like lovely Arnie from date number two?’
Mum really has absorbed a lot of information about my latest dates.
‘That’s the problem Mum, I just can’t put my finger on it. Am I looking too hard and getting confused? Or would I be stupid not to look into this further? It’s giving me brain fry.’
‘You know what you need, babes?’ Mila looks quite pleased with herself.
‘A psychic?’
‘A BREAK,’ she replies.
Mum nods furiously. ‘Gosh, it’s funny you should mention that Mila, because I have just the thing in mind.’ Why do I feel like they’ve been in cahoots behind my back? ‘You need some space to think and some time to gain perspective. Take a little trip. Get out of London. Give yourself a chance to have some fun further afield.’
‘That does sound nice,’ I admit. ‘There’s just one small catch. I have zero pounds and all my friends are in this room, bar the one I can’t figure out my feelings for.’
‘I just happen to know a lovely young gentleman called Charlie who lives in Edinburgh. . .’
Oh I see.
‘Mum, going to Scotland on a date with your sort-of nephew is not going to help me clear my head! Mila, help me out. . .’
‘Babes, Linda is right.’
My mouth drops. Mila is such a traitor.
‘Don’t look at me like that! This is the perfect opportunity to let your thoughts on Ben settle. Who knows, Charlie might turn out to be the love of your life. Or you might just have yourself a really fun time and come back with a better grip on things.’
I stick my bottom lip out.
Mila folds her arms and waves a salt and vinegar Disco at me menacingly. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, have you already come up with a fabulous plan for date number five? Because as far as I can see, you have no more dates in the pipeline. This is literally the perfect opportunity. A fifth date means you’re getting ever closer to number seven just like the article said – ‘Seven Dates To Find The One’ – and this trip will give you some distance to figure things out. Both your mother and I think it will really help.’
‘“Your mother and I”,’ I huff. ‘You’re not my dad.’
‘Stop being childish or I’ll send you to your room.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
DATE 5: Charlie the Courageous
Ever wondered how long it takes to develop major regrets about a date you’ve agreed to go on? I can tell you that it is precisely four hours and eighteen minutes.
Four hours and eighteen minutes ago, I was feeling happy-ish about this weekend. I’d got my outfits sorted (borrowed from Mila) and I’d chosen earrings to match. I’d blocked all fears about the type of guy I’d be meeting from my mind. I’d painted my nails and was standing at King’s Cross with a book bag filled with treats for the journey. Ahead of me stretched a blissful four hours, in which I’d probably spend an hour admiring the new photos from Switzerland and the London sunset I’ve added to my website, an hour catching up on that drama everyone’s banging on about, an hour eating snacks and an hour putting on some date make-up. It sounded perfect!
Only, I quickly established that the wifi was down, my snacks took all of seven minutes to eat and every single item of make-up I own can be on my face in under fifteen mins. All in, this led to my busy mind’s worse nightmare. . . nothing to do but think.
Maje regrets about this weekend. WTF am I doing? I message the group Whatsapp Mum set up straight after our chat the other day. She’s called it Jasmine’s love life and added the heart-eyes emoji at the end, which is both cute and making me despair a bit.
You’re going to Edinburgh for a break and a date. Mila likes to state the obvious.
Yes exactly. Edinburgh is far and I’ve never been before and surely this is not a sensible move? What if he’s a murderer?
He’s Tiger’s nephew, Jasmine. He’s a trainee architect, which is why he couldn’t afford to come down to London to see you. And don’t be so ridiculous. That one was Mum.
You tell her, Linda! Now go have fun.
Humph. Just when I’m wondering if I can jump off at the next stop and hitch a ride back to London, the tannoy announces that our final destination is coming up and all too soon I’m stretching my legs out on Edinburgh soil.
I once read that it only takes you seven seconds to make your mind up on a date. SEVEN SECONDS. That means that you know if there’s any potential before you’ve even ordered a drink. I couldn’t tell you if Charlie and I will be jumping into his bed later on tonight but he is definitely easy on the eye. He looks like a sexy librarian. . . dark hair falling over his eyes, glasses framing his face and very impressive eyebrows. He came to meet me at the station and handed me a bunch of flowers, which was so incredibly sweet that I had to struggle not to waffle on about how I haven’t had flowers from a boy in forever.
Right now I’m surreptitiously licking at the ice cream melting its way down the cone and onto my fingers. ‘This is awkward.’
‘Mine’s doing exactly the same,’ Charlie replies, waving sticky fingers at me.
‘No!’ I laugh. ‘Though bonus points to you for being a messy eater.’
‘I’m already into bonus points? That’s an impressive start if I do say so myself,’ he grins, eyes lighting up.
‘What I meant was, this trip is awkward. I spent a good portion of the train journey panicking that you’d think I was desperate for coming all the way up to Edinburgh for a date with a man I’d never even met before.’
‘You did? Because I spent this morning freaking out that you’d think I was weird for wanting to go on a date set up by my uncle and your mum.’
‘Oh hell yes, that too.’
‘Wait, so you do think I’m weird?’ he asks, handing me a tissue as the rum ’n’ raisin gets out of hand.
I think about this f
or a minute. ‘Actually no.’
‘That pause before you answered really was reassuring,’ Charlie takes a bite of his cone.
‘Honestly, I worried you’d be really into all the things my mum likes – like naked yoga and pickling – which are fine for mums but not so much for dates, you know?’
‘And now?’
‘I’m very relieved,’ I grin as we walk over a bridge in this beautiful city.
‘Me too. I thought you might step off the train in a jumper you’d knitted for yourself using hemp.’
‘Ohmygod, that’s exactly what I said you’d be like!’
‘Ah, so we do have things in common. I’ve got some things in mind for us for the rest of the afternoon, if you fancy it?’
I tell you what I do fancy, and that’s the hot geek I’ve come to meet. Cute date. Beauts city. Let’s go, weekend!
Our whistle stop tour of Edinburgh has so far including a stampede through the castle, a gawp at some stunning old architecture and a climb up so many steep streets that I’ll probably wake up with the ass of a Kardashian tomorrow morning. Now we’re at a crossroads.
‘We could climb Arthur’s Seat,’ suggests my date.
‘That sounds fun! Where is it?’
Charlie points to a looming megalith in the distance.
‘Um, how long will that take?’ I ask, butt cheeks already twinging.
‘A couple of hours,’ says Charlie. ‘Or, option two, we could go try some whisky.’
You bet your ass my mouth is on fire. It feels like I’ve just swallowed two burning lumps of charcoal as they make their way down my oesophagus. I’m in a bar in Scotland with a man who is relishing his whisky – Charlie’s cradling his tumbler and talking about wood and oak – but I can’t pretend I’m enjoying this hellfire beverage.
The conversation, on the other hand, is going SO well! I’ve just given Charlie a very brief round-up of my dating history and now he’s telling me about his ex (in the kind of way that makes me feel a part of his life, not like he’s still obsessed with her, thankfully).
‘We were away with friends for the New Year when we decided that it wasn’t working, which was tough,’ he’s saying. Every so often he takes his glasses off and cleans them on a napkin, which I find adorable. ‘We were from the same friendship group initially and so as well as dealing with the breakup, we were worried about what effect it would have on our group.’
‘In what way?’
‘Well, even though it was a friendly split we didn’t really want to be seeing lots of each other at the start. You know how it is, you just need time to readjust. And we didn’t want our mates to feel like they had to choose between us. That was actually one of the reasons why it took us so long to admit our feelings for each other in the first place.’
Gulp. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to get Ben out of my head.
‘Are you glad you did, though?’
‘Oh for sure, I have no regrets. And things are so much easier now. Are you okay?’ I realise my face is still scrunched up. ‘Sorry. I hope you don’t think I’m talking about my ex too much. We are one hundred per cent just friends again now.’
‘No, not at all.’ I’m actually smitten with how open and honest he’s being. ‘It’s interesting to hear your story. Also, now that I think about it, most of the guys I’ve dated haven’t had much experience with long term relationships.’
‘Oh really? Relationships can be the best.’
This guy is SO cute! He loves relationships! He’s not afraid to be honest on a date! The more we chat, the more I want to get to know Charlie. He has interesting stories to tell and he wants to hear mine, too. Feeling bold, I say, ‘I’m so glad I came up to Edinburgh. This is way out of my comfort zone but I’m having a great time.’
‘I’m having a lot of fun too. You’re awesome to hang out with.’
‘Am I? Because I just spat a tiny bit of whisky back into the tumbler.’
‘Yeah, I saw. Shall we maybe get you a different drink?’
‘Oh please god yes. This stuff is so strong! I think you need to be a proper adult to like neat whisky and I’m not there yet. Though sometimes I take my coffee black and don’t even wince.’
‘I like to browse the cheese counter in my local deli,’ offers Charlie.
‘I have a home interiors mood board on Pinterest even though I am so far from being able to spend £40 on a cushion.’
‘I’ve started to appreciate blossom,’ he laughs.
‘I can only understand half of what teenagers say.’
‘Give me a spreadsheet and I will be able to input some very basic maths.’
‘Ooh fancy, I’m not there yet,’ I hoot. ‘But I did attempt a tiny bit of code the other day and didn’t cry.’
‘Impressive. I just tried Radio Six for the first time.’
‘I own two types of olive oil, one for cooking and one for salads.’
‘I prefer Earl Grey to English Breakfast.’
‘Oh no. Now you’ve gone too far,’ I say, leaning back in mock horror. My date is beaming back at me and I love how I can ramble on to Charlie without feeling the tiniest bit self-conscious. I bet he wouldn’t give a monkeys if I confessed that I don’t own one single set of matching lingerie, a secret I used to keep for as long as possible from my old type. Not that Charlie is going to see my undies tonight, you guys. I’m still in the regrowth stage from bloody Heart-Shaped-Bikini-Wax gate and there is no way on earth I’m going to share that situation with anyone other than that Hot Tom blip a while back. Particularly someone who I fancy.
I bite my lip. He catches my eye and smiles. We’ve moved on to what brings Charlie to Edinburgh and I cannot stop staring at his full lips as he talks.
‘I had a bit of a crisis a couple of years ago. I’d fallen into a job after uni and it was fine, it paid the bills, but it didn’t make me happy. Deep down I knew that I should be brave and make a change, but it was scary and for a while I just buried my head in the sand. Then I got offered a promotion at work and that should have felt great, but it didn’t. I remember sitting in the office with my boss and thinking, “This is actually my career now.” I quit there and then, applied for some architecture courses and here I am. It’s strange, being a student again. My savings have taken a huge battering and a buy-one-get-one free pizza is now a sophisticated night out. I’m the oldest on the course by far and one of the students confused me for a lecturer in our first year.’
‘You do have a kind of sexy lecturer look about you,’ I muse.
‘A sexy lecturer, huh? Maybe you’ll let me teach you a thing or two. . .’
When did it get so hot in here? I pull my hair into a ponytail and let it fall back around my neck.
‘So you’re happy now?’ I eventually recover.
‘Absolutely. I wouldn’t change it for the world. Even though my future’s still uncertain, I wake up every day knowing that I’m going in the right direction.’
‘You’re really brave.’
He looks down, spinning around his beer mat, before meeting my eyes again.
‘Brave, stupid, who knows. All I know is, I feel better for taking the risk than I would for staying in my comfort zone.’
I kissed a boy and I liked it! Charlie insisted on dropping me off at my b&b and I didn’t want the night to end. Suddenly a surge of sass took over and I was drawing him close using the belt hooks of his jeans until our bodies were pressed right up against each other. He took his glasses off and pushed his hair back from his face and BAM, I had to kiss him. We stayed like that for so long that three separate hen dos stopped to cheer at us as they danced their way past. It was delicious. When we finally stopped kissing and I looked him in the eyes, I thought, this is enough.
I’d had such a fun evening and Charlie was a gorgeous, open, honest, interesting date, but for the first time in forever I wasn’t desperately thinking about how we could make it work, or when I’d see him again, or in fact anything to do with the future. I was just happy to
be.
Charlie the Courageous was lovely. AND WE KISSED! We’re leaving it there, because #longdistance, but I had the best weekend. I think I’ve developed a thing for hot geeks? Getting away has been an eye opener in more ways than one. New type on paper score: 6/7
OMG PROUD. OF. YOU.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Admin day. The least favourite of days. But I’ve been so busy gadding about on dates to Scotland, squeezing in some extra work with Dave and doing my day job that I’ve simply got to get this stuff done. A quick online banking session has confirmed that I could do with a little salary boost. Just a casual £10,000 should do it. Do you think Violet will go for it? After rent, bills and a housewarming present for Mila and Mike, I’m in a beans-on-freezer-toast-until-the-next-pay-day kind of situation. My IT guy Arnie popped round this morning on his way to a ceramics class (!!!) and did what he called some ‘behind the scenes’ work to make sure the website is running at its best and I used up the last of my cafetière coffee as thanks. We had a good catch up over hot coffee before he left me to crack on.
So here I am pouring over the profile shots of Photographer Dave, leaning back on the rooftop, legs kicked out in front of him and the sun setting in the background. I scrutinise each photo. I like them. Should I email a couple over to him? Or am I a proper div for thinking he’d be interested in looking at some pictures taken by a lowly photographer’s assistant? I decide to be brave and do it anyway. They are of his face and Photographer Dave does have quite a high opinion of himself.
I press send and start deleting my way through junk emails when I spot one from a sender I’ve never seen before.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Jump shoot
Dear Jasmine
My name is Mads and I work for Jump, the Danish knitwear brand you interviewed for recently.
We’ve had a last-minute situation with the photographer hired to shoot our social media campaign. Without going into details, they embellished their CV to the point of unprofessionalism. Jade from Buzz PR mentioned that she had also interviewed you and her company clearly rate you highly. I’ve since taken a look at your impressive website.
