Pull

by Natalie K. Martin

  Pull: Book One

  By Natalie K. Martin

  Claire, 31.

  About Claire: Cabin Crew, always mile high. Fan of strawberries and old movies. Don’t bother swiping right if you’re posing with a heavily sedated lion/tiger/big cat of any kind.

  Interests: Made In Chelsea, Lana Del Rey, Upworthy, Pacha

  One

  ‘No...no...no - wait. Dammit.’ Claire scowled as she accidentally swiped left and watched the flash of a cute smile disappear from her screen. ‘Stupid app.’

  Honestly, why wasn’t there a back button? She had half a mind to deactivate her profile. At first, it had been addictive swiping through all those faces, choosing the ones who sparked her interest and had good enough chat to keep her entertained but now she was getting bored. She put the phone down on the kitchen counter and poured a glass of orange juice.

  ‘I hope there’s vodka in that,’ Keri said, fastening an earring as she walked into the kitchen.

  Claire shook her head. ‘I can’t turn up at my sister’s tomorrow with a messed up cake.’

  ‘It’s Christmas Eve,’ Keri replied, raking her fingers through her red hair. ‘You’re seriously telling me you’re going to stay in and be all Nigella Lawson?’

  ‘Yep.’ Claire shrugged. ‘Even if I didn’t have to bake, I’m shattered after that flight.’

  She’d just endured eleven hours from Cape Town back to London, running around after a group of kids on a school trip, dealing with a warring couple and the heaviest turbulence she’d experienced to date. Added to the almost constant partying in the lead up to the festive season, her body needed a rest. Even so, she still tallied up the pros and cons.

  Pros: Joining Keri and the rest of her colleagues at Sugar Bar. It had been featured on Made In Chelsea and rumour had it, some of the cast would be there tonight. She could do a bit of celeb spotting while drinking Prosecco and flirting outrageously with Fit Mark, the new, hot pilot based at Gatwick.

  Cons: Dodging intimidatingly rich people all night, moving onto Sambuca after the Prosecco - never a good idea - and ending up looking like a complete moron trying to pull Fit Mark. All of which would result in her rocking up late and hungover at her sister’s tomorrow with a half-arsed cake.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Keri asked, raising an eyebrow. ‘It’s going to be one hell of a night.’

  Claire nodded. ‘I bet it will, but I’ll stick to my juice and cookbooks. Have an awesome time.’

  Keri grinned and left, the clacking of her heels against the floor echoing through the flat as she went. Claire had to admit that the pros of going out far outweighed the cons but tomorrow, she’d be spending the day with all of her family for the first time in years and she had to be on top form. Just thinking about how her fractured family had come together again made her smile. Her twin sister, Sarah, was cooking a full on Christmas dinner and their mum and step-dad were driving down from Sheffield tonight. It would have been unthinkable only a year ago.

  Claire took a gulp of her juice and looked down at the cookbook in front of her. Despite being the World’s Worst Baker, she’d been put on dessert duty. There was a risk she’d end up making something more like rock cake than sponge but she would’ve baked a hundred of them if Sarah had asked.

  She flicked through the pages and stopped at a picture of dainty looking cupcakes, complete with thick, twirled icing. Everyone was all about cupcakes these days - they were bang on trend. Even traditional wedding cake seemed to have been replaced by tiers of cute little cupcakes and every weekend, the café down the road from her flat had a queue outside that would put New York’s Magnolia Bakery to shame. How hard could they be?

  Thirty minutes later, she queued for the checkout in the supermarket down the road, her basket laden with baking goodies. A Seventies Christmas song pumped through the speakers and the store was decked out with tinsel and baubles. Claire shuffled her feet as the queue moved forward an inch. The place was packed with last-minute shoppers, all intent on stocking up enough to over-indulge for the next few days and, as hectic as the shop was, most of the faces seemed to be smiling.

  She watched the couple in front of her, noting the way the man kept his hand on the small of his partner’s back the whole time. Claire glanced away when the woman reached up on her tiptoes to kiss him. She loved Christmas but it was the one time of year she always started to reflect on her single lifestyle, wondering whether she was living her life wrong. Even her sister had settled down, engaged with a baby, and Claire definitely hadn’t seen that one coming.

  She shook her head. She was being melodramatic. Claire was the living the life she’d always wanted. She got to travel the world and had a great time doing it. It was just the romanticism of Christmas messing with her head and even though it was only supposed to be for fun, Tinder had sucked her into the promise of finding the perfect guy – a wholly ridiculous notion at best. Besides, she didn’t have time for a relationship. In a few days she’d be back in Singapore for the New Year and this empty feeling would slink away. It was much better to keep things casual.

  She smiled at the thought of returning to one of her favourite cities on earth and her phone vibrated in her pocket. Claire raised an eyebrow at the message on the screen.

  Congratulations! You have a new match!

  Danny, 27

  About Danny: 6ft2 Irishman, often found behind a bar

  Interests: The Strokes, Arsenal, Bored Panda

  Two

  Danny looked at the photo of Claire on his iPad and paused for a moment. His stomach involuntarily flipped. She was older than he’d usually go for but she had a cute heart-shaped face, caramel skin and unusual amber eyes. He read her bio before clicking the heart shaped icon and curled his lips into a smile as the app told him they’d matched. He turned around in his swivel chair at the knock on his office door and his friend, Joe, bounded in.

  ‘Hey, man. Sorry I’m late.’

  Danny shook his head and put the iPad down on the desk as Joe perched on its edge. ‘No worries, it’s a good thing. This is the first five minutes I’ve had to myself all day.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s rammed downstairs.’

  Danny looked at the CCTV camera display. The bar was already packed with people in various states of inebriation. His team of bar staff were more than capable of dealing with the crush but he’d go down and help them out soon. The Christmas Eve shift always proved to be a great laugh and it came second only to New Year’s Eve.

  Joe leaned down and looked at the iPad screen and snickered. ‘Tinder? Really?’

  ‘Why not?’ Danny shrugged

  ‘Aren’t they all a bit...you know. Skanky?’

  ‘Does she look skanky to you?’ Danny nodded to the iPad still showing Claire’s profile picture.

  ‘Okay, I take it back.’ Joe grinned. ‘I don’t get why you’d need to use an app instead of just meeting someone in person but, hey, whatever works for you. I suppose we can’t all be as lucky as me.’

  ‘And how is Tasha? I’m surprised she’s not with you.’

  ‘She will be in about an hour.’

  Danny nodded. Tonight was the first time they’d been able to meet up on their own since Joe and Tasha got together and he supposed an hour to do it without her crashing the party was something of a record. She’d made no secret of her distrust in Danny from the moment they’d met, telling him she’d met his type before: Irish Lotharios who led their coupled up friends astray, not helped by the fact that he owned a successful bar packed with beautiful, successful regulars. It was a skewed view but she’d made her mind up and it was unlikely to change, no matter what he said.

  Joe picked up the stapler from the desk and tossed it up into the air before catching it with ease. ‘So how many women have you met from that thing?’
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br />   ‘None. I’ve spoken to a couple but they were a bit…I dunno.’ Danny’s hand shot up as Joe chucked the stapler to him. ‘Vacant, I guess. It’d be fine if I were looking for a quick bunk up.’

  ‘I’ve got to tell you, I think the chances of finding anything more than that on Tinder is a longshot from what I’ve heard. What’s your profile say?’

  Danny brought his profile up on the screen and handed Joe the iPad.

  ‘Why no mention of the celibacy thing?’ Joe frowned.

  ‘I didn’t think it’d do me any favours admitting to that.’

  ‘Are you crazy? They’d lap it up: I’ve been celibate for three years and now I want to settle down.’ He mimicked Danny’s accent. ‘You’re missing a trick.’

  ‘Maybe, but I don’t think they’d appreciate the I was celibate because I almost became a sex addict part.’

  ‘That’s true. You could at least mention this place,’ Joe replied, handing him the iPad. ‘You’re selling yourself short by saying you’re a barman.’

  ‘It doesn’t say I’m a barman, it says I can be found behind a bar. I don’t want someone to be interested in me just because I own this place.’

  The cliché of customers coming onto bar staff was something he and his team witnessed almost every night of the week. When some of the women worked out that he was the owner, they went all out. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d been handed knickers or had to turn away some of the bolder ones who managed to slip past the bar and make their way up to his office.

  ‘So are you gonna message that girl or what?’

  Danny went back to Claire’s profile again and flicked through her other photos. There was one of her standing in front of the Sydney Opera House and another in an airport, dressed in her flight attendant’s uniform. In each one, her smile was big, warm and welcoming, as if she was inviting him personally to send her a message and make the first move.

  ‘Yeah, maybe.’

  ‘Why not. It’s not like you’ve got anything to lose.’

  Danny got up from his desk and opened the small cabinet in the corner of the office, taking out a bottle of eighteen year old Japanese whiskey. ‘Drink?’

  ‘Let me just get this first,’ Joe replied, looking at his phone. ‘It’s Tasha.’

  Danny nodded as Joe stepped outside. A blast of music and the sound of clinking glasses and laughter shot into the office from the bar downstairs. Danny sat back at his desk and poured a shot of whiskey.

  He looked back at Claire’s profile. For the first time since he’d joined Tinder, he’d seen a profile that had given him an instant, physical and almost chemical reaction and he wasn’t afraid to admit it sparked a jolt of anxiety. A sex addiction and Tinder. It sounded like a recipe for disaster but it had been so long now, surely he had it under control? It felt like he had. Wasn’t that why he’d gone celibate in the first place?

  His dark hair, blue eyes and soft, Irish accent had always made him successful with women but combined with working in the hospitality industry, it made pulling almost too easy. Tasha would have been right to be wary of him had they met a few years ago. These days, things were very different. He’d refocused his energy on setting up his own bar after working in pubs for years and it was doing well. Extremely well. He had a year old, top of the range Audi A3, he’d bought a one bedroom flat in a new gated development in West London and he even had a cat. He’d come a long way but he couldn’t live the celibate life forever and he didn’t want to.

  He knocked back the whiskey, letting the after-burn warm his insides as it glided down his throat and picked up the iPad just as a message notification popped up at the top of the screen.

  - Well, well. Now you look like a whole lot of trouble

  Danny grinned as he read Claire’s message. It wasn’t the first time he’d been told as much, but her greeting was a marked improvement on the dull, robotic hey most girls seemed intent on sending.

  - Ha! Thanks ;-) You don’t look so innocent yourself. Always mile high...now that sounds fun

  He re-read the message. It sounded light-hearted and playful, easily matching hers. He pressed send and a minute later, Claire responded.

  - You have no idea ;-)

  His fingers sped across the keys, remembering what she’d written in her bio about her dislike of the trend of guys posting pictures with big cats on the app.

  - It’s a good job I decided against my pic posing with a leopard

  - That would have been an epic fail, and a shame...

  - You know you’d have still swiped right if I did ;-) How’s your xmas eve going?

  - Good so far. I’ve got to bake. Yours?

  - I’m at work :-( busy night ahead

  - You’re a barman, right?

  - I work in a bar, yeah. I’ll be here a while at least. Not sure about afterwards. It depends

  - On?

  Danny hesitated. In the time he’d been in his self-imposed sexual desert, he’d wondered if he’d be able to remember the rules of the game and the stilted messages he’d exchanged with the other girls on the app hadn’t done anything to help. But there was something about Claire that sparked the current of anticipation and flirtation that was seemingly written into his genetic code. Already, he was enjoying their light-hearted banter. He wanted more and he didn’t want to do it through an app.

  - It depends on what it takes to go from a guy you just swipe right on and chat to, to one you want to meet

  A stretch of Tinder silence descended and Danny looked up at the noticeboard on the wall with pictures tacked to it, charting the success of The Opal Bar from the day it was bought and through its conversion from a neglected office space to high-end bar. He couldn’t have done it without Joe, the Project Manager who’d quickly become a firm friend.

  He checked his iPad again and frowned. Nothing. He must have jumped in too early. Maybe he didn’t remember the rules as well as he’d thought. He opened up an email from his drinks supplier. He might as well use the time Joe was away on the phone wisely instead of thinking about the puzzling, sinking feeling of disappointment about a woman he didn’t even know.

  Three

  So, he wanted to meet. Claire stood in the supermarket queue and put her phone away before unloading her basket and paying for her shopping. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d have met up with a guy from Tinder and the truth was, if they’d both been out in a bar or a club, she’d have spotted Danny with his good looks straight away. She might have even taken him home with her but it would have been on her terms. This would be no different.

  As she turned onto her street, she opened up the app and sent him a reply.

  - You’ll have to prove yourself first

  - Like a test?

  - Exactly. Unless you’re not up to it?

  - I’m always up for it and I do love a challenge

  - Tell me a joke and make it good

  - Lol, that’s easy. What’s orange and sounds like a parrot?

  - I have no idea...

  - A carrot

  - Lmao. That was awful!

  - Yeah, but I bet you’re smiling

  She put the phone in her pocket and let herself into her building. He was right, she did have a smile on her face. His silly humour was exactly what she’d been hoping for when she’d asked him to tell her a joke. He could be as fit as he wanted, but if he couldn’t make her laugh there’d be no chance of them even doing so much as swapping numbers.

  - Did you hear about the guy who invented the knock-knock joke? He won the no-bell prize

  With the shopping unloaded, Claire guffawed as she read Danny’s last message.

  - Ok, ok. Stop with the awful jokes!

  - How am I doing?

  - I’d say you’re at 60%

  - Man, you’re hard work

  - Well, I never said I was easy now, did I?

  - And I said I like a challenge. What’s your number?

  - Who says I’m going to give it to you?

 
- I’ll help you bake

  - Whatever. Can’t imagine you in an apron

  - Tut, tut. Didn’t anybody ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover? I look amazing in an apron and I bake like a boss. It’s in my genes

  - Lol. Irrelevant. You can’t bake me a cake over the phone

  - I’ll lick the bowl then. That’s the best part ;-)

  The smile stretched to a grin as she pictured him scraping a finger around the mixing bowl and licking it right off. Not that she had a mixture for anyone to lick yet. If this was happening face to face instead of over text, she would already be anticipating the first kiss, the jolt of electric lust that would pull them together.

  - You’re distracting me. I need to bake

  - You’re distracting me more like. I’m at work, remember?

  - Must be a sweet deal if you can spend all night messaging on Tinder

  - I’ve been on a break but I need to get back. It’s busy tonight but if you give me your digits, I can distract you some more later ;-)

  Claire poured a glass of juice and flicked back through his photos. Why would someone as fit as him would be on Tinder? Then again, he was hot, twenty-seven years old and probably wanted to get laid – of course he was on Tinder. She could hardly begrudge him for that, not when she was doing the exact same thing. Still, she didn’t respond straight away. Instead, she went back to focusing on the task at hand. She had a bad batch of cupcakes to bake.

  Twenty minutes later, she slid the tray holding cupcake mixture into the oven and closed the door. It had been easy enough: Mix butter and sugar. Beat in the eggs. Give Danny your number. She was pretty sure that wasn’t in the recipe, but she’d done it anyway.

  Four

  ‘One batch of cupcakes, delivered.’ Claire grinned, wedging the large Tupperware box next to a bag of potatoes on the side. ‘Don’t blame me if they taste horrific.’