We Just Clicked

by Anna Bell

  He shakes his head.

  ‘Well, you’re missing out. In fact, it’s playing in Newbury in a few weeks, if you wanted to come? It’s got some epic sword battles in it and it’s hilarious.’

  ‘Tempting, but I’m busy.’

  ‘But you don’t know when it is.’

  ‘No, I don’t, but we don’t want to overload our feeds with classic films. We should probably do as many different things as we can.’

  I shrug my shoulders. ‘Your loss, it truly is the best.’

  ‘Why don’t you take your brother?’

  ‘Oh… he died,’ I mutter.

  ‘He died? Oh, Izzy, I’m sorry for putting my foot in it.’

  ‘You weren’t to know. He had a problem with his heart. He died in his sleep.’

  Luke’s eyes soften and he stops taking things out of boxes. He reaches for a falafel and dips it in the hummus before handing it to me.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he says.

  I shrug my shoulders and eat the falafel. ‘You know, a few more of these would make me feel better.’

  He pulls the bowl away again and smiles.

  ‘Nice try. You can eat properly soon.’

  He reaches into another bag and pulls out a string of fairy lights.

  ‘Oh no,’ I say groaning. ‘Fairy lights, really?’

  He starts untangling them.

  ‘Everyone loves fairy lights.’

  ‘I love them, too, at Christmas. This is just cheesy, and it’s not even dark.’

  ‘I can make it look dark in Photoshop. Can you grab that end for me?’

  He twists them round the wide trunk of the tree and then jumps to throw them over a long, overhanging branch.

  He switches them on and steps back to admire his handwork.

  ‘What do you think?’ he says, clearly happy with his efforts judging by the smile on his face.

  I walk back to him where he’s now erecting a tripod. It’s so pretentious; it’s so Instagram.

  ‘I don’t know how much of the fairy lights you’ll get in though if we’re sitting down on the rug.’

  ‘Who said we were going to be sitting down?’

  He screws his camera onto the tripod and then starts to fiddle with its position.

  ‘So you’re going to make us pose up against the tree,’ I say, trying to work out what I’m missing. There are people walking through the park and I’m going to feel like a bit of dick posing up here.

  ‘Not exactly, but I’ll be standing, at least.’

  ‘Right, you better tell me what’s going on now, or I’m going to eat all the sausage rolls.’

  I lunge at them and he pulls my arm back.

  ‘OK. I saw that they had the outdoor film here tonight and I thought it would be perfect. I mean, all women love Dirty Dancing. Well, all except you.’

  ‘So we’re pretending we’re having a picnic at the movies. I guess we’re lying about everything else…’

  ‘We’re not going to pretend; we’re going to go watch the movie and take photos of the screen. I’ve got friends saving us a spot.’

  ‘What? This isn’t what I signed up for,’ I protest.

  ‘It’s exactly what you signed up for. But wait, it gets better.’

  ‘I somehow doubt that.’

  ‘Well, everyone there will be taking photos of the same thing, right? The screen, their picnic.’

  I point down at the picnic. ‘So far, so cliché.’

  ‘Exactly, but I thought it would be fun to re-enact a bit from your favourite movie.’

  ‘What, have a sword fight from The Princess Bride?’

  ‘Very funny. But think of your Insta feed – Dirty Dancing would totally be in keeping as being one of your favourite films.’

  ‘So now I’m lying about our relationship and my favourite films.’

  ‘Yes, keep up,’ he says matter-of-factly.

  ‘So when you say “re-enact” you want us to dance, here, by the tree.’ I look around the park. At least he’s found a part that’s mostly secluded, bar a man walking his dog.

  ‘Not dance. Think, what’s the most iconic part of the movie?’

  ‘Oh no,’ I say, my heart sinking. ‘I am not doing the lift.’

  ‘But look at it, it’ll be amazing. I’ll stand there,’ he says, pointing, and then you’ll be up there, which is just where the fairy lights are.’

  He shows me how he’s framed the shot on the camera.

  ‘It would look really good,’ I agree. ‘There’s just one teeny tiny problem: I’m not doing it. Can’t we just have a picnic like normal people?’

  ‘Of course we could,’ says Luke, exasperated. ‘We could do all the things that normal people do, but that totally misses the point. We’re trying to do something different. To get noticed. To get brands to want to pay us.’

  I purse my lips together. ‘I just better not break my bloody neck.’

  ‘I watched a YouTube tutorial at lunchtime; it seems very straightforward.’

  ‘Didn’t seem that straightforward in the film, that’s why they had to do it in the water.’

  Luke sighs. ‘Come on, let’s do a couple of practice runs before I start the timer. You’ll need to take your cardigan off.’

  I unbutton my cardigan, and it clicks into place. That’s why he wanted me to wear a white button-down shirt and light blue jeans – it’s in homage to the kind of outfits that Baby wore in the movie. ‘If I’d known I wouldn’t have straightened my hair, it’s naturally curly.’

  ‘Now you tell me!’ he says. ‘OK, so all you have to do is keep running at me OK, and when you get to me I’ll lift you straight up. Then you use all your stomach muscles to hold yourself upright and your arms out.’

  ‘What stomach muscles? Are you sure this is going to be safe?’

  ‘Of course, as long as you don’t knock me unconscious or my back doesn’t give way,’ he says. ‘Or you don’t fall head-first to the ground. Just don’t put your weight too far forward.’

  ‘So, all in all foolproof? Look, couldn’t we do another scene from the movie? You running your finger down my waist and me laughing?’

  ‘Not quite the blockbuster moment. Come on, nothing ventured, nothing gained.’

  He really is stubborn when he gets an idea in his head.

  I walk backwards until he tells me to stop. I loosen up, rolling my neck from side to side and shrugging my shoulders to limber up.

  ‘Now the key is to run, and keep running. Don’t stop.’

  ‘Don’t stop,’ I mutter to myself. ‘Got it.’

  I look over my shoulder, double-checking there’s no one in the immediate vicinity, before I take a deep breath. I start to run, concentrating on giving myself enough momentum.

  ‘Bloody hell, this isn’t Braveheart!’ he says as I crash into him. ‘That face – you look like you’re doing a battle cry. Come on, you’ve got to look like you’re falling in love.’

  I mutter some swear words under my breath whilst walking back to my starting line.

  ‘Look lustful.’

  I do my best sexy look.

  ‘Lustful not constipated,’ he shouts.

  I sigh loudly. ‘Are you sure we can’t just do a standing pose?’

  ‘No, we’re going to nail this.’ He pulls out the remote control for his camera and presses the button.

  ‘OK,’ I say, taking another deep breath; anyone would think I’m preparing to run the hundred metres at the Olympics.

  ‘Three, two, one, run!’ shouts Luke, holding his hands out ready.

  I run towards him with all my might. I feel his hands make contact with my waist and he thrusts me into the air and I throw my arms out as I get higher and higher, and I actually think we’re going to make it. My legs have swung out backwards, and I’m determined that I’m not going to dive head-first into the knobbly-looking tree roots below. I have the biggest smile on my face that we’ve only gone and done it, when Luke starts to wobble and my legs, which seemed to have risen so elegantly
into the air, are being pulled back by gravity, like a pendulum swinging.

  ‘Fuck,’ shouts Luke as my feet kick him in the balls.

  He drops me and I hit the ground stumbling to stay upright.

  He cups his crotch and hops about doubled over; it is abso lutely not a laughing matter and I try desperately to suppress the giggle that’s escaping my lips.

  ‘I’m so sorry, but you never told me how to land.’

  He ignores me and alternates between swearing and yelping as he hops around.

  ‘I was trying so hard not to dive-bomb over the top that I didn’t think about the momentum in my legs and…’ He’s looking so pale. ‘Do you want me to have a look?’

  ‘I think you’ve done enough damage,’ he says, the pain audible in his voice. ‘I don’t want you to come near my balls ever again.’

  He turns away from me and moves further apart.

  ‘That’s absolutely fine by me.’

  Whilst his back’s turned, I help myself to a sausage roll.

  ‘I saw that,’ he says, his voice sounding more normal.

  I take another and shove it in my mouth, capitalising on the fact that he’s not in a position to do anything about it.

  He does a low whistle and hobbles over to the camera. I’d almost forgotten about it.

  He takes it off the tripod and I walk over to see what it’s captured.

  ‘Am I too close to your balls here, do I need to step back?’

  He scowls at me before he starts to scroll through the pictures. They show me doing a slo-mo run up to him; he must have had the camera on burst mode, capturing one photo every split second. I gasp when we get to the lift.

  ‘Oh my God, we actually got it,’ I say in disbelief. There’s a photo of me full-on in the air, before it all went so horribly wrong. My line might look a little off, but with the trees behind us and the picnic in the foreground, the picture’s more than good enough to impress even the most discerning of browsers.

  ‘With a little Photoshop magic, this will look pretty cool,’ Luke says.

  ‘What’s art without a little bit of pain, huh?’

  He gives me a look to let me know that it’s too early to make jokes about it.

  He carries on scrolling and we watch the look of horror on both of our faces in the photos when we get to the fall. Luke stops scrolling; I don’t think he wants to relive that again just yet.

  ‘So now do we get to eat?’

  Luke looks at his watch. ‘We can eat a little bit, but we should pack up to get ready for the film.’

  ‘Oh, that’s right. I forgot we actually have to watch the movie.’

  ‘Now, now, where’s your enthusiasm? My friends are saving us the best seats at the front.’

  ‘Bloody hell, and there was me hoping I could sneak out from the back with nobody watching me.’

  ‘You probably still could. I imagine there’ll be a lot of Prosecco drinking going on and a lot of people heading to the loo.’

  ‘And you wouldn’t mind?’

  ‘No, I might leave early too. Means I can get home and edit the photos so we can post it before the movie’s over. Help fuel the myth that we didn’t Photoshop it.’

  I sit down at the picnic blanket and start to devour the food. Luke winces as he joins me, still in pain, and we both laugh a little at the ridiculousness.

  ‘It’s certainly been a memorable first date,’ I say to him.

  ‘One to tell the grandkids.’

  ‘We’re not going that far, remember,’ I say, trying to remind him that this will be over long before that. ‘So what are you going to caption the photo? Let me guess: “No one puts Izzy in a corner.”’

  I laugh, thinking that he wouldn’t be that predictable, but I notice that he looks crestfallen.

  ‘What would you caption it, then?’

  ‘I don’t know, if I had bigger boobs you could have had: “She was carrying some watermelons.”’

  ‘And that’s not cheesy? Didn’t you used to be a copywriter?’ he says laughing.

  ‘All right, all right. Not a very good one.’

  The sun is starting to set and I can see a steady stream of people in the distance going into the ruins.

  ‘You seem to have put this picnic together pretty well. And battery-powered fairy lights, too – have you done this before?’ I ask.

  He gives me a wink. ‘I have. The money that went on those lights was the best £20 I’ve ever spent. I’ve had a pretty good return on it, if you know what I mean.’

  I suddenly feel less guilty for kicking him in the balls, maybe it was karmic payback.

  ‘So, do you think it’s that easy with women? A few fairy lights, a picnic?’

  He pops an olive in his mouth. ‘The key with any woman is to make them feel like they’re special and that you’ve made an effort. A quick trip to M&S, chuck things into Tupperware, bring a blanket and string up some fairy lights. It’s cheap but the results are certainly cheerful.’

  My nostrils flare. I knew there was a reason I wasn’t into clichéd romantic tropes – because they’re easily exploited.

  ‘Aren’t you eating any more?’ he says, hoovering up the last of the sausage rolls. ‘I thought you were starving.’

  ‘I think I’ve had enough,’ I say, wondering if I’m only speaking about the food.

  ‘Cool, OK, well, let’s pack this up and we get onto phase two of the evening.’

  ‘Can’t wait,’ I say, hoping we see a spike in our Instagram feed and it makes this all worthwhile.

  Chapter 10

  The heavens open and I look up at the black sky wondering what happened to the summer.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ says Marissa, linking her arm through mine to keep herself steady. ‘These are not shoes for running in.’

  I look down at her sandals and my flip-flops. Neither are made for running or rain.

  ‘It’s only a bit of water,’ I say, trying to make her slow down. ‘It’ll be better to get there in one piece.’

  We’re only fifty metres away from the shopping centre but with the speed we’re travelling at, we could probably set the world’s slowest record over that distance. By the time we get there we’re drenched from head to toe.

  I pull my now very frizzy hair back into a ponytail and slip on the cardigan that had been round my waist.

  ‘I must look like a drowned rat,’ I say, laughing.

  ‘You don’t look that bad, but I wouldn’t be taking any selfies at the moment.’

  ‘Luckily my Instagram is buzzing from my Dirty Dancing date with Luke.’

  ‘It looked amazing from the photos.’

  ‘It was really fun, despite the fact that I had to put up with Luke.’

  Marissa laughs. ‘I still don’t believe he can be that bad.’

  ‘He is, really. But, it’s working. I’ve had over 7,000 likes already.’

  ‘Bloody hell. I remember when I had Molly McMittens I was pleased I’d had almost 700 likes.’

  ‘Poor Molly McMittens,’ I say.

  ‘There is nothing poor about her – do you know that her new owner still has that feed? She gets double the amounts of likes than I do. I told you that cat was the way forward.’

  ‘You couldn’t have kept her, you know that. Your face.’

  She strokes it in memory, but it was at least double the size when she’d owned Molly. She’d persevered at first, thinking she had hay fever, but the pharmacist was pretty keen to point out that hay fever in the middle of winter isn’t very common. She was describing the amount of black mould she had in her bathroom when the pharmacist saw a cat hair on her coat and in a few Sherlock moves he deduced that Molly McMittens was to blame.

  Being Marissa and desperate to grow her Instagram, she powered on for a few weeks, hoping he was wrong, but eventually no filter could hide her puffy-looking eyes and she had to rehome Molly. Luckily she had a colleague at work whose daughter was desperate for a cat, so at least there was a happy ending.

  ‘I
know. It’s just a shame that Bowser is so unphotogenic. If only Tim would let me get another puppy.’

  ‘A puppy is for life, not just for Instagram,’ I say in a stern tone.

  We walk further into the shopping centre, when Marissa points. ‘Look, it’s Becca. Becca!’ she shouts, waving.

  Becca turns round and her eyes almost pop out of her head. Her hands are entwined with a man’s and I realise why she’s feeling uncomfortable.

  ‘Hi,’ says Becca, walking over. ‘How are you two?’

  ‘Fine, thanks,’ says Marissa, grinning straight at Gareth. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Oh, right, guys, this is Gareth, Gareth this is Marissa and um, Izzy.’

  ‘Oh, wow. Great to meet you both,’ he says, leaning forward to shake our hands. ‘I was beginning to think that Bec made you up.’

  Becca laughs nervously and I notice that she won’t look me in the eye.

  ‘We were just on our way to grab a drink. Do you want to join us?’ he asks.

  Becca looks horrified, but before I can make an excuse Marissa pipes up.

  ‘We’d love to,’ she says before she looks at me and she clocks my expression.

  ‘It’ll only be a quick one,’ says Becca. ‘We’ve got a dinner reservation.’

  ‘We’re early and it’s Sunday night and it’s pretty quiet,’ says Gareth. ‘I’m sure they won’t mind if we’re not bang on time. I want to hear all about you from your friends.’

  He leans over and gives her a kiss on her forehead and I feel like I’ve been winded.

  ‘Come on,’ says Gareth, leading the way.

  Marissa loops her arm through mine again, this time to steady me, and we walk behind Gareth and Becca.

  ‘Are you OK?’ she whispers to me as we walk along. ‘I wasn’t thinking. I was so excited to meet him and—’

  ‘I’m fine. I’ve got to meet him some time,’ I say, wishing that I’d been prepared for it.

  We push open the doors to the bar and Marissa makes a beeline for the toilet.

  ‘Can you get me a glass of fizzy water?’ she asks before she leaves.

  ‘I’ll get the drinks, you ladies get a table. What are we drinking?’

  ‘I’ll have a Coke,’ I say.

  ‘A Coke, OK, are you sure?’

  ‘Yeah, school night and all. Marissa wanted a fizzy water.’