Truth Or Date

by Portia MacIntosh

  I laugh quietly to myself as I read his message. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try and show Nick what a dazzling date I am, and if I can make him jealous with Deano, that’s a result too. It doesn’t necessarily have to be to an end, right? I just want to change his opinion of me for the better. All I need now is a plan of attack. Oh, and to try and convince Deano that a double date is a good idea.

  Chapter 23

  Another day, another date. My God, dating is soul destroying. Getting all dressed up, time and time again, going out with people in the hope you’ll find one another tolerable enough to stick with, just so you don’t have to go on any more damn dates. I imagine it gets to a point where you start to compromise, so when you don’t find love, maybe you’ll settle for compatible, and when you don’t get compatible, maybe you’ll just settle for the person off Matcher who seems the least likely to try and strangle you while you’re sleeping. Because if you can’t have true love, you can at least have someone to take to family parties so that your auntie gets off your back about why you’re still single.

  The only difference with tonight’s date is that it’s a double date, with Nick and Heather. So this one should be interesting, at least.

  So I thought more about Millsy’s idea, to emasculate Nick, and it sounds ridiculous. So what I figured I’d do, rather than make him seem less manly, is make me seem more womanly. For too long, I have cared way too little about what Nick thinks of me, and as such, he’s seen me at my worst. And when I say worst, I mean worst. He’s seen me walking around in face masks. He checked out my semi-waxed armpits for me that one time the wax irritated my skin so badly I couldn’t put my arms by my sides for a week. Worst of all, on multiple occasions, he has been the person I have called upon to yank me into my control tights. Well, not tonight.

  I quickly slick on a second layer of my bright red nail polish.

  ‘Nick,’ I call out from my bedroom. ‘Can I borrow you for a moment?’

  Soon enough, Nick wanders through my bedroom door, looking down at his phone, almost completely distracted by whatever he’s reading.

  ‘Let me guess,’ he says, without looking up. ‘You need me to pull up your weird tights.’

  ‘Not quite,’ I reply.

  Nick glances up from his phone, and his jaw hits the floor. A split second later, his phone does too.

  I’m standing in front on him, in my dress, with it lifted up at the back just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the stockings and suspenders I’m wearing instead of my usual ugly tights and, would you believe it, one has come unclipped.

  ‘Can you clip this back on for me, please?’ I ask. ‘I’m running so late, and I’ve just painted my nails. If I chip one, I’ll have to start all over again.’

  Nick blinks at me before finally finding some words.

  ‘Erm, OK, sure.’

  Nick fiddles around at the back of my thigh, trying to fasten the fiddly suspender to the back of my stocking. I actually find these hard enough to do and I’m supposed to be a woman. Still it doesn’t stop me teasing him though.

  ‘I thought doctors were supposed to be good with their hands,’ I say softly. ‘And you’re a downstairs doctor, shouldn’t this be your speciality?’

  ‘Undressing patients doesn’t fall under my job description,’ he laughs, but he sounds nervous.

  I shift my weight from one leg to the other, ever so subtly wiggling my bum inches from his face.

  ‘You’re supposed to be dressing me, not undressing me,’ I giggle.

  Nick hastily jumps back up to eye-level.

  ‘There. Done,’ he says. ‘Going all out for date number three then?’

  I grab a red lipstick and pucker up in front of the mirror.

  ‘Well, you’ve got to, haven’t you?’ I give my shoulders an aloof shrug.

  Nick runs a hand through his hair before spotting his phone on the floor and picking it up.

  ‘Looking forward to our double date tonight?’ I ask him.

  ‘Not really, and I have work in the morning. I’m going to jump in the shower in a minute – if there’s any hot water left. You going to be out late or are you coming back here or…’

  Nick’s voice trails off. I can tell what kind of information he’s angling for.

  ‘Don’t worry, I won’t wake you. I’ll probably be back tomorrow.’

  An absolute lie, but it won’t hurt to let him think that. All it means is that when I creep in after he’s gone to bed, he’ll assume I’ve been out all night when, in fact, I am tucked up safely in my bed, with no plans to get up until long after he’s gone to work.

  ‘OK, cool,’ he replies. ‘Well –’

  My phone springs to life.

  ‘That will be Deano,’ I chirp, faking excitement. ‘Can you answer it for me please? My nails are still wet.’

  My nails are most definitely dry now.

  Nick pouts like a moody child.

  ‘Do I have to?’ he asks. ‘He’s so dumb I can’t take it.’

  ‘Oi, don’t talk about my boyfriend that way,’ I reply. ‘I don’t say bad things about Heather to you.’

  ‘You do, actually,’ he replies. ‘Like, all the time.’

  I shrug.

  ‘OK, fine,’ he gives in, answering my phone as he wanders into the living room.

  I grab my bag and follow him. I’m not about to leave them alone to chat like last time, because the more Deano speaks, the more likely it is Nick will realise that this is nothing serious – or nothing at all, to be honest.

  ‘Eight o’clock, yeah. So, what do you think of what’s been happening in France today?’ I catch Nick asking Deano.

  Nope, I can’t let this happen. I snatch my phone from him.

  ‘Sorry, no time to chat about the news,’ I insist, heading for the door. ‘You and Heather are meeting us there, right?’ I call back to him.

  ‘Yep,’ he replies unenthusiastically.

  I don’t want to count my chickens, but I could swear that as I closed the door behind me, I heard Nick sigh.

  Chapter 24

  Lights, camera, action. I am at The Bucks Head, ready to deliver the performance of a lifetime. I know what you’re thinking: that double dates aren’t a good idea even in normal circumstances, but in my situation, I think it’s going to work.

  Maybe I am clutching at straws here, but I am taking that little pang of jealousy Nick showed me this morning and I am running with it. This is my chance to show him that I am not his gross, undesirable flatmate who leaves hair in the plug hole, still licks her plate when she is finished eating and frequently speaks like Lumpy Space Princess from Adventure Time for hours at a time. Nick just needs to see me in context, out of the flat, in the real world, on an actual date with an adult human man who actually (for some strange reason – probably because he doesn’t know the aforementioned gross and annoying facts to be one hundred per cent true) wants to shag me.

  The Bucks Head is not my kind of place at all, in fact, I’m instantly regretting letting Deano pick the restaurant. I had kind of hoped he’d pick somewhere nice, like where we had our first date. I figured with him being a pro sportsman, restaurants like Vici would be standard procedure, but now I’m thinking that’s just his A-game for sealing the deal. Well, not with this chick. He blew his chance getting in my pants when he implied I shouldn’t eat dessert because it was bad for me. I’m still trying to work out whether or not he meant “dessert is bad for you” or “dessert is bad for you specifically, Ruby, you fat bitch” – I’m trying not to lose any sleep over it. The Bucks Head is a sort of pub-cum-restaurant, but it isn’t exactly nailing either. Their first crime was not having a cocktail menu. No big deal, I guess, I just ordered a vodka and orange and the waiter who brought it to me had his finger in my glass so I suppose that’s the third ingredient that makes it technically a cocktail, so what do I have to complain about really? Other than potentially catching something gross that is going to result in a trip to a clinic where I’ll have some difficult q
uestions to answer. The décor, I can only describe as, if the place were repeatedly closed down and reopened by new people who always kept one thing that their predecessor left behind. Nothing matches. Or looks at all good in any way. And everything looks like it needs a “good clean” – as opposed to a bad clean, obviously, which everything seems to have had already.

  Everyone who knows me knows that I am always late for everything, so tonight I decided to make sure I was on time and, amazingly, I got here ten minutes before our booking, but it’s five past the hour now, and I’m still the only one here. Wow, this must be what it feels like for everyone when I’m late to meet them – I suddenly feel like a spectacular bastard. I’d love to say that this will make me more careful with my time in the future, but all it’s made me realise is that it’s better to be the person who is late than the person stuck sitting all alone at the table like a Billy-no-mates, just waiting for someone to show up.

  ‘Hello, sorry we’re late,’ Heather says, taking me by surprise – not only because she snuck up behind me, but because for some strange reason she’s greeting me with a hug. ‘So do they have a vegan menu here?’

  Cutting to the chase, I see. Honestly, I swear she takes more enjoyment from people “persecuting” her for being a vegan than she does from those who embrace it.

  ‘Erm, they don’t even have loo roll in the lavs – they’re not going to have a vegan menu,’ I tell her.

  ‘Are you saying those two things are similar?’ she snaps.

  ‘Ladies, are you fighting already?’ Nick asks, finally joining us.

  In the spirit of playing nice, he gives my shoulder a squeeze as he greets me.

  I exhale deeply as I let Heather’s hysteria wash over me, glancing up in Nick’s direction.

  ‘Hey kid,’ he says.

  ‘Hey you…’ I reply, my voice trailing off as I catch a glimpse of him in date mode. I’ve spent so much time worrying about him seeing me “in context” that I totally forgot I’m going to have to watch him on a date with Heather.

  Normally I see Nick when he’s on his way to or from work, or when he’s just knocking around the flat with Heather, cooking whatever no-meat, no-dairy, no-fun crap she wants before watching A Day in the Life of the Earthworm on Netflix. Tonight, however, I’m getting the dressed-up, relaxed, charming Nick, and it takes every fibre of my being not to bite my lip and let out a little sigh at the sight of him.

  He’s smart, but not too smart. Too smart for here, sure, but he’s made just the right amount of effort to look good, but still come across as kind of aloof, like he doesn’t care if he looks good or not, even though I can tell he’s made an effort because he’s got product in his hair and his delicious aftershave on. I often see Nick dressed “smart” for work, but something about his attire tonight is driving me crazy, causing my mind to stray from vegan menus and what that red stuff crusted to my fork is, to thinking about his “bedside manner” if you know what I mean. He’s wearing a tight-fitting black shirt – not that I think it’s intended to be tight-fitting, but his arms, knotted with muscle, underneath look ready to Hulk their way out of the confines of his sleeves, and I for one will cheer with delight when they do. His hair is the kind of effortless mess that takes a lot of product and a generous twenty minutes in front of the mirror to achieve, and he’s even carrying his leather jacket – an item from his wardrobe he rarely wears because he once told me he felt intimidated by how cool it was, which probably explains why he’s carrying it and not wearing it.

  ‘So, where’s Deano?’ he asks as they take their seats at the table.

  ‘He’s running late,’ I tell them. ‘Training – they’ve got a big game coming up.’

  Lie, lie, lie. I don’t know that he’s running late, I’m only guessing that he’s had training and don’t pro sportsmen always have a big game coming up?

  I let a few seconds go by before I grab my phone to text him, to see where he is, but I don’t get a reply.

  After twenty minutes of awkward small talk – largely dominated by Heather telling me exactly what a cow has to go through so that “selfish people” like me can eat a burger – Deano appears.

  ‘You’re late,’ I say through gritted teeth, which I am trying to disguise with a big, moronic grin.

  ‘I am,’ he tells us. ‘Training.’

  We all give him understanding gestures – a smile, a shrug of the shoulders, a bat of the hand. It happens. He’s got a job to do. He’s only twenty-five minutes late, right?

  ‘We finished on time,’ he starts. I will him to shut up before he says another word because I know that he’s going to say something that will piss me off and make himself look bad, and that’s not the aim of the game tonight. ‘But then we had this wrestling tournament in the changing rooms. And now I could kill for some fucking meat.’

  ‘Hello,’ Heather says brightly to Deano.

  That’s weird. She should be annoyed that he’s late, disgusted by his changing room story, and ready to defenestrate him for that meat remark. Instead, she seems quite charmed.

  I make the necessary introductions, cautiously.

  ‘Heather, this is Deano. Deano, this is Heather – Nick’s girlfriend.’

  I feel the words catch in my throat.

  ‘Ruby, move up a seat,’ Heather insists. The four of us are sitting at a round table, and currently I am next to Heather, Nick is to her right and then there’s a space for Deano between Nick and me.

  ‘You want me to move up to Nick?’ I ask, confused.

  ‘Yeah, I just think it will make for a better environment if we’re sat boy-girl,’ she explains.

  ‘Ever the school teacher,’ I laugh, although I do move up, because I do really want to sit next to Nick.

  A waiter is straight over to take our order now that everyone is here, clearly annoyed at us for holding up proceedings.

  After ordering our drinks (their strongest white wine in the biggest glass they can find for me) a waiter comes by to give us our menus.

  I cast an eye over the sticky pages, but nothing jumps out at me. It’s your usual pub food, nothing special, and I don’t imagine any of it is going to knock my socks off.

  ‘Chicken salad, easy,’ Deano announces, slapping his menu closed before sitting back in his chair.

  ‘I’m a vegan,’ Heather starts, to which I roll my eyes. Five minutes before she mentioned it, that’s got to be some kind of record. ‘But I appreciate that you need meat, given that you’re a professional athlete.’

  Nick and I exchange a surprised glance, because that’s not like Heather at all.

  ‘And I suppose you’ll be having a steak,’ Nick says to me quietly, as Heather and Deano chat. And while that would be my first choice usually, in the interest of making Nick jealous, I’m going to take a stand of healthy solidarity with my man.

  ‘Actually, I think I’m going to have a salad too,’ I inform him. ‘We like to eat healthy, don’t we, babe?’ I say in Deano’s direction, but he’s too busy talking about himself and Heather is too busy giggling.

  Nick takes a second to acknowledge Heather’s bizarre behaviour, pulling a face before turning back to me.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asks me.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I reply.

  ‘You love steak. And you love upsetting Heather. So why are you ordering a salad? You’ve always told me that salad was grazing for your rare steak if it got hungry,’ Nick reminds me. ‘So what gives?’

  I shrug my shoulders.

  ‘Mate, you’re always telling me to make better choices and to be healthier. So what’s the problem?’

  ‘You’ve always ignored me,’ he says, speaking softly enough so that only I can hear him. ‘You don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not to impress anyone – especially not this clown.’

  We both glance over at Deano, who is downing his pint in one go as Heather watches on, impressed.

  ‘You’re not jealous are you, Nick?’ I can’t help but ask as the co
rners of my mouth pull into a slight smile.

  ‘No,’ he replies quickly, defensively even. ‘I just…’ his voice softens again. ‘…I see you do this time and time again, tailor your personality to suit whichever guy you’re dating, and you don’t need to. You just need to be you. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Just don’t put all your eggs in this guy’s basket.’

  I smile a huge, genuine grin.

  ‘Well, thank you,’ I tell him. ‘But I know what I’m doing.’

  We place our orders and make small talk – well, it’s mostly Heather telling us about her students. As dull as this is to listen to, it’s stopping Deano saying stupid stuff, and it’s disguising the fact that Nick is just sitting there, silent, with a face like thunder.

  ‘I had to cover this Key Stage 2 science class today,’ she starts. ‘So I handed out the books and wrote the questions about the universe on the board as instructed. When you cover lessons you just do what you’re asked and then sit back and make sure the kids don’t harm themselves or each other, but this inquisitive-looking eleven-year-old got up from his desk, walked up to me and asked: “Miss, do you believe in aliens?”’

  ‘What did you tell him?’ Deano asks, curiously.

  ‘I told him that they certainly do exist, as there is no way we can possibly know everything about outside our own universe, so why wouldn’t there be life elsewhere?’

  In the interest of trying to befriend Heather, I don’t say what I would like to say, which is: good work, Heather, telling a bunch of kids during a biology lesson that aliens definitely exist – they’ll probably write that in an exam. I keep my mouth shut.

  ‘And do you know what he told me?’ she asks us.

  We all shake our heads.

  ‘He told me that he thinks aliens do exist, and that some live amongst us. That they’re here to film a reality TV shows about our species. He thinks that they’re using special technology to make themselves invisible to us and then filming what they do to us. And do you know what he thinks they do for this reality TV?’