The First Date: A heartwarming and laugh out loud romantic comedy book that will make you feel happy

by Zara Stoneley

  Now I can actually understand why women going down the red carpet hang on to a partner. They are literally hanging on; it’s got more to do with balance than attraction. It reduces the risk of falling over due to temporary lack of shoe control, or lack of leg control linked to the nervous shakes.

  Anyway, I had nobody to hang on to, so I settled for deep concentration. Luckily by the time Noah commented on my new look, I’d been able to grasp the back of a chair and no longer had my tongue stuck out (apparently this is a habit when I’m concentrating – thanks for that Robbie).

  The bar is relaxed and erring towards traditional. Not what I’d expect as Noah’s first choice – though maybe he’s off his beaten track as well. He probably doesn’t want to put off potential dates by being seen cosying up to me.

  Talking of which …

  Oh God, he’s steered us straight to a cosy romantic corner! I stop dead. I can’t help it. Maybe I should have had a bottle or three of wine before I attempted this. Is this really what he thinks we need to do before I meet Steve tomorrow?

  ‘Thought this would be good, where we won’t be disturbed and you can say what you want,’ the corner of his mouth quirks, ‘not that anything would stop you doing that. No hands I promise! Here we go!’

  The drinks magically arrive at the table the second we’re sitting down. My cocktail actually looks quite nice. Very nice. ‘Good job.’ Oh hell, that sounds like I’m praising a toddler who’s conquered potty training. ‘I mean, er, lovely, I’m impressed.’ Ouch, where did that come from? I sound like my mother. I can feel the colour start to leach into my face.

  ‘What do you call a sad strawberry?’

  ‘I have no idea. Is this a chat-up line, or part of the lesson?’

  ‘A blueberry!’

  ‘That’s terrible!’ I laugh despite myself, and instantly the embarrassment disappears. Noah grins and I realise him being happy makes me feel happy.

  ‘Courtesy of a nephew. Sorry. I’ve got more?’

  ‘I’m not sure how many I can take.’

  ‘What do you call a strawberry playing the guitar? No?’ I shake my head. ‘A jam session!’

  I groan. ‘Another nephew joke?’

  ‘Oh no, that’s all my own work! It was my comeback joke. I think I’ve peaked!’

  His grin is decidedly naughty, and I don’t know if I can totally blame the glow in my cheeks on the cocktail.

  ‘When I got here and you said I’d made you forget your chat-up line, that was a chat-up line, wasn’t it?’

  His grin morphs into a big smile. ‘You’re a quick learner. Guilty as charged! Hang in there though, they get better!’

  ‘Nobody ever tell you you’re cheesy?’ I roll my eyes and take a sip of my cocktail.

  ‘And you’re the sweet chutney that makes me complete.’

  ‘Oh, pu-key. How far will you go?’

  ‘As far as it takes.’ His eyes are twinkling. I’m enjoying myself. This isn’t hard at all. Being with Noah is fun, and chilled.

  I tip my head on one side and study him. ‘You don’t even mind if I laugh at you, do you?’

  He shakes his head. ‘Not at all. This is about you, not me.’

  ‘You’re good at this.’

  ‘I am, I told you.’ The cheeky grin comes and then drops away. ‘So are you. It just has to be about the person you’re with, that’s all.’ He leans in closer. ‘Yeah, I’ve got an ego the size of an elephant, but I just put it on hold. The only secret is to forget you for a moment. Let’s face it, Rosie.’ He takes my hand. ‘Most of the time you’re thinking about other people, aren’t you? You’re kind, considerate.’ Blushing at the moment. ‘I’ve seen you at work, or with your mates, and you’re more interested in other people than yourself. You just get hung up when you’re with a guy you don’t know.’ He smiles, but his thumb is stroking the back of my hand. It’s mesmerising and I’m liking it far too much; I feel like he’s hypnotising me, drawing me into his world. ‘If you go in feeling confident that you look your best, you are your best. It’s easy, Rosie. It’s only hard when you’re thinking about how you feel, not how you can make the other person feel. So,’ he lets go of my hand, leans back and twinkles again, bringing me back down to earth and back to lesson-land, ‘if you weren’t ridiculously lucky and able to be here with sex god Noah, name three top qualities your perfect date must have.’

  ‘Reliable.’

  ‘Woah.’ He holds a hand up. ‘I knew we had to get back to your man-requirements and get real.’

  ‘Do you remember everything?’ I sigh.

  He grins. ‘When it comes down to you, I do. Strange eh?’ The wink makes me all gooey inside. Then I twig what else he said.

  ‘What do you mean, get real?’

  ‘It’s a rubbish list!’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with wanting somebody reliable!’

  ‘Well no but, number one requirement? You’re kidding, me?’ He grins.

  ‘Shut up, this is my list!’ I screw my face up and think. ‘Considerate.’

  He groans. ‘Twenty-five going on fifty? Safe job, everything in moderation.’

  ‘You’re impossible!’

  ‘You should be having fun, you deserve it. I consider it my duty to turn you around, to make you forget that boring list and come up with a new one!’

  ‘Don’t I deserve somebody good, faithful?’ Somebody not like my father.

  ‘Are we talking about Hugo again here?’

  ‘Shush!’

  ‘Rosie, somebody can be fun and faithful, if they’re the right person! I’m going to prove that to you.’ He taps the table to make his point. ‘Look, you deserve somebody,’ he hesitates as though looking for the right words, ‘somebody who brings out the best in you, somebody who makes you feel good, who makes you feel like you can do anything.’

  ‘I do?’

  ‘We all do. Nobody wants their other half to be just part of the fixtures and fittings. Don’t settle for a doormat just because you think it’s the safest option. What if one day the doormat wakes up and realises you’re too good for it?’

  ‘What exactly have you been drinking?’

  He doesn’t respond to that. ‘Work hard, play hard, jump off a cliff now and then.’

  ‘Okay, I give in, what are your three?’ He might have a point though. I’d never call Robbie a doormat, but he had been what I’d thought was the perfect guy for me. And look what happened there. He sloped off to Wales and found sheep.

  ‘Confident, brave, fun. Like you.’

  I ignore the ‘like you’ bit. ‘Not sexy?’

  ‘Sexy comes with the other three. Have you not been listening to a word of today’s lesson, Rosie-Posie? Tut, tut. Right, I dare you to close your eyes and the next drink you point at on the menu is your pick.’

  ‘I’ll be drunk.’ I grin back at him.

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘It does, I have—’ I’m about to say ‘a date’ tomorrow, but something stops me. I don’t want to spoil the mood. ‘Work tomorrow!’

  ‘You’ll be fine. Right next question.’ He pauses, then looks me straight in the eye. ‘What would you do if somebody cheated on you?’

  ‘Walk away.’ My shoulders stiffen. There are some things in life I have solid views on, and this is one of them.

  ‘No backward glance?’

  ‘Never. Nothing. Just walk away.’ I motion to demonstrate.

  ‘But what if you’d made a mistake? What if they hadn’t actually cheated? You just thought they had? Or what if they’d just made a horrible—’

  ‘One, I’d ask them straight out, so I’d know I hadn’t made a mistake, and two, cheating on somebody is not a mistake. If you love somebody you don’t do it, do you?’

  ‘True.’

  ‘It’s disrespectful, cruel, hurtful. It can ruin somebody’s life.’

  He puts a finger under my chin, looks into my eyes. ‘Don’t ever let anybody ruin your life, Rosie. Only you have permission to do that.’
/>
  ‘That’s an odd thing to say.’

  ‘It’s true. It’s your life, make the rules, change the rules, do whatever it takes.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Always. Right, next question.’

  We chat about dates, good dates, bad dates, about my fear of flying, and his spider phobia. Light fun, nothing serious or tricky, and it’s as easy as chatting to Bea.

  ‘So, you approve of my makeover?’ I’m not fishing for compliments. Okay, I might be a bit. But somehow, it’s important what he thinks, that he does find me sexy. Not because of him, of course, but that if he does then somebody else might.

  ‘It was a few tweaks, not a makeover.’ He twiddles a strand of my hair in his fingers, so that it tugs ever so slightly at my scalp and sends a funny feeling surging through my body, which shocks me so much I freeze. I vaguely remember a sensation like this, a hollowing of my stomach, a feeling of delicious anticipation. It was the first time Robbie and I had a proper grope in the porch at my parents’ house. Before Mum switched the light on and asked if we were going in ‘before we caught our death’. After that all I felt was that it was nice and meant to be. Not quite the same. ‘You’re practically perfect as you are.’ He is still twiddling, and his mouth is so close to my neck I can feel the warmth of his breath, and I forget about Robbie and squirm a bit.

  ‘Only practically?’ I laugh to cover up the fact that I need to shuffle away.

  ‘Seriously.’ He puts his hand over mine, gazes into my eyes. ‘I’m the lucky one here, thanks for giving it a go.’

  ‘That’s a line as well, isn’t it?’ I can hear the strained edge to my voice. The words are forced, but if I can joke, say normal things then I can keep this how it’s supposed to be.

  Instead of letting it turn into something so tempting I want more.

  ‘Partly.’ He grins and sits back, and I know I should be heaving a sigh of relief, but instead feel disappointment. ‘Ready to hit the road then?’

  ‘Sure, fine! Lovely evening.’ Shut up, Rosie.

  He holds the door open for me and I take a step out into the perfect night. Warm air, a beautiful clear sky.

  As we set off down the road, his hand brushes mine. There’s a tingle, a strange need inside of me to catch hold of his fingers. Is this how it’s supposed to happen? Falling for somebody, wanting to date? Is this what I really want to happen – letting fate step in and lead me to a man who makes me tingle, rather than trying to pick the perfect guy?

  Our forearms briefly touch, the hairs on mine prickle, we’re walking in step and I realise I’m holding my breath. That the rest of the world no longer matters. If he kissed me now, I wouldn’t care who saw. I wouldn’t care that it’s wrong. It’s as though there’s just the two of us. Nothing else matters.

  He slows the pace. ‘Rosie?’

  I swallow. Is this it? Is this the moment when I throw out my rule book and let him kiss me, because I want him to so much and I’m prepared to risk being with a man who might be just like Dad? My heart is hammering, I can hear the thud in my ears.

  ‘Yes.’ I clear my throat, try to ignore the shivery anticipation that is threatening to break out of me.

  ‘That Steve guy, you’re going through with it?’ And just like that he’s burst the bubble.

  It’s not the two of us. It’s a man and a girl striding along a dirty pavement.

  ‘If you mean, am I seeing him? Then yeah, tomorrow.’ I can hear the defensive edge to my voice.

  I’d got carried away. I’d forgotten that he’s doing this because of some other guy, not for me.

  He’s turned the heat up because he couldn’t help himself. Because he didn’t like the fact I’d been chatted up. Even though that’s what we are here for.

  Dad is like that. He can’t help himself. He’ll be off on tour, flirting and romancing his way through concerts, through life, but he only wants Mum to want him. To have him.

  As the thought runs through my mind for the first time, I realise it is true. The slightest mention of other men in Mum’s messages to him and he’d be home.

  Not because of her, not because of us. But because he couldn’t bear the thought of her being happy with other people.

  He couldn’t stand the thought of her doing to him what he did to her.

  He was possessive, he got jealous – because to him, he was the only person who mattered. I don’t want a guy who’s like that. And I don’t want to feel like that about a guy – because every time there was somebody, something, who demanded Dad’s time and took him away from us, I was jealous.

  I got angry. I felt hate.

  I don’t want to feel like that.

  ‘I’m looking forward to it,’ I say stiffly.

  ‘Where are you meeting?’ There’s a gulf opening up between us that is far wider than the physical gap on the pavement.

  ‘Stacey’s.’ It’s a bar not far from where I live, and the moment Steve suggested it I knew it would be perfect. Casual, open, the type of place you have to shout a bit to be heard. Not the type of place that is uncomfortably intimate, or stiff and starchy. Fun.

  ‘I’ll go there with my date, then I can check you’re okay.’

  Eurghh, why do those words ‘my date’ annoy me so much? ‘I’ll be fine. But thanks for the offer.’

  ‘You need me there, in case it turns out he’s a psycho.’

  ‘Gee ta, now I feel a lot better, big brother.’

  ‘Be careful, Rosie, I don’t want anybody to hurt you, to stop you believing in love.’

  ‘It’s only a date.’ I don’t get him, I don’t get what he’s so … well, scared of. What did he say? Love is fine until it goes wrong, until you lose it?

  He stops, standing in front of me so that I have to look up and meet his gaze. ‘I’ll be there. It’s the least I can do. Make sure you’re safe.’

  Safe from what exactly? Steve isn’t a threat, I’m sure of that. So, is it him, or myself I need protecting from?

  ‘And Rosie?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Your homework is to write a new list: the type of man you’d really like to have in your life. Not the one you think you should.’

  ‘I—’

  He puts his finger on my lips to shut me up. ‘You don’t have to hand it in, it’s just for you.’

  Chapter 13

  Noah was right. Steve isn’t exactly my dream date. He doesn’t really tick any of the boxes on my new (not even committed to paper) list.

  I thought I wanted, no correct that, I know that the type of man I actually need is all the things I said at the start. Some of those things are non-negotiable, like being faithful, a guy I can trust blah, blah … but I’ve had to add on ‘funny’. Noah can be wickedly funny; he can make me smile when I don’t even want to.

  With Steve I’ve just smiled to be polite, like you do at a party of colleagues or family.

  Robbie did make me laugh sometimes, but not belly laugh; it was more because of something that had happened, than something he did on purpose. We’d shared a sense of humour like I probably do with Steve. But with Noah it’s different.

  With Noah it’s more like with Dad. Dad could make me laugh when he wanted to. Which was usually to deflect attention away from the fact that he’d just missed my birthday or forgotten to bring something home that he’d promised.

  So naughty sense of humour had definitely not been on my list. Until Noah. Noah does it because he wants to make me laugh – not because he feels he needs to for his own ends.

  I thought cheeky laugh and winks went hand in hand with addictive personality and getting what you want. I think I might have been wrong.

  So yeah, when Steve asked me out, he did fit my safe, secure, nothing-like-my-dad list.

  But after spending time with Noah, this is all a bit, well, boring.

  He’s incredibly kind, incredibly nice, incredibly all of those overused words that are pretty meaningless.

  Meaningless.

  Like a pretty picture w
hen I’d actually like something a bit edgy, a bit more nuanced. Though obviously not too much: I’ve not had a personality change, just a tweaking of expectations.

  Noah is right (gahhhh). I need somebody who has a bit more about them. Sadly. But this is only a practice date, not a lifelong (or even day long) commitment.

  Steve just happens to be very good at controlling runaway gym equipment. For which I am grateful. But not grateful enough to agree to a second date. But, hey, I’m having a first date at which the guy turns up, and stays, and we’ve had a lovely time. So that’s a big win in my book.

  Part of Steve’s nervousness could be down to the fact that he spotted Noah at the other end of the bar about three seconds after he sat down – even though it is heaving and noisy. Noah isn’t one to merge in with the crowd.

  ‘He came over and said you’d probably want olives?’ Steve says, sitting down with our second round of drinks.

  ‘Sorry?’

  He inclines his head in Noah’s direction, and Noah winks.

  ‘He what?!’ I am going to kill him!

  ‘You don’t like olives?’

  ‘He told you to get me olives?!’ This is just the type of controlling thing Dad does. Something so minor nobody notices.

  Like when you turn round and say that you’d been looking forward to choc-chip ice cream for ages, not the vegan coconut and lime new one he’s insisted you have, he turns round and says, well it’s not worth making a fuss about, is it? So you don’t. You eat the ice cream that you didn’t really want. And Mum drinks the wine that gives her a headache, but that Dad says everybody who knows anything about wine is drinking.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Steve touches my arm lightly, as though he’s not sure if it’s safe to. ‘I can get rid of them. To be fair he didn’t exactly tell me to get them, it was more an “olives are good here, mate, she devoured a whole bowl last time! Might get you extra brownie points” wink, wink, thing. I didn’t know if he was trying to help or drop me in it!’ He looks even more nervous now.

  ‘Oh, hell, I’m sorry.’ I want to hug him and tell him it isn’t his fault. ‘It’s like going out with your big brother watching!’ I laugh weakly. ‘Always, you, know, butting in? He’s on a date; you’d think he’d be busy doing his own stuff.’