Just Date and See, page 14
Tony is a mountain of a man. He must be nearer seven foot than six, but it’s hard to tell with him sitting down. His shoulders are broad and his hair is probably nicer than mine. It’s long, dark and poker straight. There’s one hell of a shine on it. Would it be weird to ask him what he uses?
‘Argan oil,’ he says, reading my mind.
I stare at him. I feel like I’ve just been caught out.
‘You were looking at my hair,’ he tells me. ‘Usually when women look at me like that, it’s not because they fancy me, it’s because they want to know the secret to my hair.’
‘It’s honestly a work of art,’ I point out. ‘You can’t blame people for wanting to know your secrets.’
‘And yet, when I tell them that I had to be cut out of a child’s swing by the fire brigade, when I was twenty-four, they look at me like I’m some kind of freak,’ he replies.
Oh, he’s really funny. How is this guy single?
It must be some sort of reflex that makes me keep glancing over at Rocco. This time, though, when our eyes meet, he isn’t smiling. His eyes are narrowed and his jaw is tight. We look at each other for a second before he turns back to his date. Is Leila right? Is he jealous? I mean, she’s right about me, I definitely am. But none of it matters because after Christmas, Rocco will be going back to Dublin or wherever he’s working next. I’m really not interested in a fling. I’m sure there will be people out there who think it’s what’s best for me, to prove I’m over Declan by getting under someone else. It’s not that I don’t think I’d have a great time with Rocco, and I’m sure it would be really hot in the moment, but I don’t just want to sleep with him, and that’s the problem. It’s not exactly going to be difficult, is it? I haven’t had sex with anyone since Declan, it’s something that’s coming embarrassingly naturally to me.
The best thing we can do is keep things strictly friends and keep sex off the table. And now I’m thinking about having sex with him on a table, fantastic! This isn’t going to be so easy after all.
18
The good news is that things between me, Rocco, Leila and Tobias are back to being friends again. The old gang (from, you know, like three days ago) is back together again.
What is potentially the bad news, but is something I am also going to file under good news anyway, is that Leila and Tobias have joined us for our post-speed dating drink. It’s bad because obviously I want to be alone with Rocco – I want it to be just us, to shut out the rest of the world while we enjoy one another’s company. It’s for the best that we have company, though, it keeps things strictly platonic. We’re just friends. We’re all just friends.
We’ve been here a little while now. The drinks are flowing and so is the conversation. It’s not only a lot of fun, chatting about the evening, but it’s reassuring to know that none of us had any luck finding someone. If we hadn’t all had such a rubbish series of micro dates, I might have wondered if there was something wrong with me.
‘Did you speak to the guy who kept going on about how big his downstairs was?’ Leila asks me.
I don’t know if it’s because we’ve squashed our beef, or because she’s had a fair bit to drink, but I’m finding Leila a lot more fun this evening. She’s more relaxed, more outgoing, less hostile – she’s actually quite funny too.
‘Oh, my God, I did,’ I reply.
‘He just would not shut up about the size of it,’ she continues. ‘He was obsessed.’
Rocco widens his eyes.
‘Really? Guys talk to you like that?’ he asks.
‘They can’t all be like you,’ Leila says, squeezing his arm before grabbing her drink again, and draining the last of it.
‘It was weird, because he was so desperate for me to know exactly how big it was,’ I add. ‘Not by showing me it. Well, no, he wanted to show me it. But it was like, before I filled in my feedback form, he wanted me to know, so that I would consider it when I scored him.’
‘Did he ask you to name an item, and he would say if it was bigger?’ Leila asks me.
‘Yes!’ I reply giddily. The reason I’m so happy comes from sharing this experience with her, as odd as that sounds, because once again, it means it’s nothing to do with me. It’s not the type of men I attract, the calibre of man interested in me, or any kind of vibe I’m putting out. It’s just men. Not all men, though, because the two at this table are clearly horrified, but that’s reassuring too. It makes it easier to laugh.
‘I said a cucumber,’ she tells me before lowering her voice and widening her eyes. ‘Bigger!’
‘I said a baseball bat,’ I tell her through a giggle.
‘Wow, okay, those are some high expectations,’ Tobias says, the colour draining from his face.
‘I wanted to make sure I said something ridiculous,’ I reply. ‘I didn’t like the way he was lording it over me, as though I would be powerless to resist it. Like he could be anyone, treat me any way he wanted, and I wouldn’t care because he had a cucumber in his pants. He was gutted when he had to say smaller, even though I set the bar ridiculously high.’
‘So that doesn’t work on girls?’ Rocco asks through a relieved-sounding laugh. ‘I haven’t dated in a long time; I was starting to get worried.’
Well, that’s interesting. He hasn’t dated in a long time. Neither have I, there’s nothing wrong with that, except I want to know everything about him. I can’t ask him, though, because it might make me seem interested, and I’m not. I can’t be.
‘No, that doesn’t work on girls,’ I confirm, keeping the conversation on track.
‘Speak for yourself,’ Leila says through a snort. ‘I matched with him.’
We all laugh.
‘The girls weren’t much better,’ Rocco tells us. ‘There was this one girl who was looking for someone to go to a wedding with her, which I understand, weddings aren’t fun to go to alone, it’s much better when you’ve got someone there with you, to have fun with.’
‘You should have said yes,’ Tobias says. ‘You never know, you could have helped her out, and you might have fallen in love with her – she could’ve been the girl for you.’
‘Except eventually I realised I was misunderstanding what she was saying,’ Rocco continues. ‘She wasn’t looking for someone to go to a wedding with her as a plus one, she wanted a wedding – a wedding of her own – she was looking for someone to marry. Not like immediately or anything. She wasn’t aiming to marry a stranger next week. But she made it crystal clear that the next person she was involved with needed to be someone she could see herself walking down the aisle with, because she didn’t want to be an “old bride” – whatever that is.’
‘Who said all that?’ Tobias asks curiously.
‘The one with the straight dark brown hair,’ Rocco replies. ‘She had some kind of tattoo running down her back.’
‘Oh, her,’ he replies. ‘Well, she never mentioned anything like that to me, all she talked about was her dog, and how much her shoes cost. I didn’t match with her. I’m not even sure I want to get married.’
‘She sounds like a desperate cow anyway,’ Leila slurs. ‘I’m a child of divorce but I don’t let it change the way I think. I want to get married – although not to someone I met at speed dating – but hopefully one day, if I meet the right person.’
‘I totally agree,’ I reply. ‘And I don’t know at what age someone becomes an “old bride” but who cares? Even if I don’t meet someone I want to marry until I’m in my seventies, I’ll do it when I feel like it.’
‘What about you, Rocco?’ Leila asks curiously. ‘I’m curious to see if all guys think like Tobias.’
Rocco looks slightly awkward at the idea of either siding with Tobias or singling him out.
‘Well, yeah, you’re all right,’ he says tactfully. ‘Getting married isn’t about ticking some box, or throwing a big party. It’s about finding the right person and wanting to marry them because you do, not because you think you’re supposed to.’
I can’t help but smile. That’s a great answer.
‘Well, she wasn’t even the worst one there,’ Tobias says, steering the conversation back to speed dating. ‘I heard there was one girl there who was even crazier. She was there to try and get some sperm, to have a baby. Although she didn’t want me either. How desperate does a girl have to be to go for Tobias?’
As Tobias wonders out loud about his own eligibility, I am quick to reassure him.
‘Oh, no, that was me,’ I quickly insist. As Tobias’s eyebrows shoot up, I realise what I’ve just said. ‘Well, not actually me. Rocco and I thought it might be fun to sabotage each other’s dates, so we were spreading rumours about each other, to put people off.’
Tobias laughs – almost in disbelief.
‘That does sound like fun, but the whole point of the evening was to try and find someone,’ Tobias points out. ‘You two wasted your chances.’
‘Oh, look, is that the time?’ Leila says, without appearing to check the time. ‘I’m thinking it’s time we called it a night. Tobias, can you walk me home? I’m not far from here.’
‘Yeah, sure,’ he replies.
Leila looks at me. I notice the corners of her mouth turn up ever so slightly. Is she… she is. She’s doing this on purpose, leaving me and Rocco alone together – she’s trying to set us up.
‘I should try and get myself a taxi,’ I say quickly – too quickly, perhaps. ‘It’s a nightmare, trying to get home at this time, when it’s busy, it’s usually a long wait for a car, I’d better make a move.’
Like I even have enough of a social life to know if that’s true or not.
‘You can always stay in my hotel room again,’ Rocco suggests.
This time Leila’s eyebrows hit the ceiling.
‘On the sofa, again, obviously,’ he quickly adds. ‘Just to save you trekking home, and waiting forever for a taxi.’
I want to say yes. I really, really want to say yes.
‘I’d better get home,’ I say instead. ‘But thank you, though.’
‘No worries,’ he says with a smile.
We all say goodnight before Tobias and Leila head off together, Rocco walks off in the direction of his hotel, and I get in my taxi – a taxi that picks me up right away, from outside the bar. It’s for the best, though. If there is one thing I can’t be trusted with right now, it’s being alone in a hotel room with Rocco, if there’s even a chance the feelings between us might be mutual, and the taxi arriving right away takes away the opportunity for me to weaken and change my mind.
So I head home, alone, getting dropped off a few doors down from my own house, walking the final stretch of my journey on foot, so that I stand a better chance of making it inside, and up to my bedroom, without waking anyone up. I know, it’s pathetic, but I feel like a kid again, one who doesn’t want to be in trouble with her mummy and daddy, or to be interrogated about where I’ve been until this time.
I’m briefly distracted by the red-tinted light that’s on in Kenny’s bedroom window. Oh, that’s so gross. I hope Jess isn’t in there with him, but I wouldn’t bet my house on her not being.
It’s half three in the morning – one of those times that is neither getting home late at night nor early morning and is therefore open to interpretation.
I take my door key off my ring of keys to ensure it turns in the door silently. All the lights are off, so I imagine everyone is in bed asleep (on this side of the fence, at least), but on the off chance my dad is sitting on the sofa in the dark ready to ask me where I’ve been until this time, it’s best I try to be as quiet as I possibly can. I can’t believe that after all these years, I am worried about upsetting my dad, but here we are.
He isn’t in the living room, thankfully, so I sneak up the stairs. One of the things about an old house is that random steps and floorboards creak when you walk on them, even under the thick carpet, it sounds like walking on snow if you hit the wrong board in the wrong place. I suppose, without even realising it, I’ve been mentally mapping them all out since the day I moved in, so I know exactly where to stand if I don’t want to make a sound.
I make it up the stairs, along the hallway, and into the sanctuary of my room without making a peep. Even with the door closed behind me, the walls in this house aren’t the thickest, so I continue to sneak through my dark room before shrugging off my dress and peeling back the covers to climb into bed. At first, it feels like my hand is wet, but there’s absolutely no reason my bed should be wet. There’s a strange smell in here too. It’s only as I sink down into bed that I feel my mostly bare skin collide with someone else’s body.
I scream as I jump up. I run for my bedroom door but slip on something – more of the same slippery, smelly substance I found on the bed. I land on the bedroom floor right as my mum, dad and Gail all come running in to see if I’m okay. One of them must hit the light switch.
I scramble to my feet and look back towards the bed. And there he is, naked as far as I can tell, clearly drunk, sitting up in my bed, looking annoyed that we’ve all woken him up. And the weird substance that appears to be all over the room? A kebab is my best guess.
‘Declan, what the hell are you doing here?’ I ask angrily.
‘Who is Declan?’ I hear Gail ask my dad as she yawns.
‘Her boyfriend,’ he whispers back.
‘Oh, I’m going back to bed,’ she tells him with a bat of her hand, as though she’s above this sort of drama.
‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ I insist, grabbing a hoodie from the nearest drawer and slipping it on. ‘I haven’t seen him in a year.’
‘Declan, what are you doing here?’ Mum asks him, taking a softer approach, clearly only to get answers. I wish I had her ability to stay calm.
‘I’m home,’ he announces, laughing wildly. I can smell the booze on his breath from here.
‘Get out, right now,’ I tell him. ‘Of my bed, of my house. Of Kent too, ideally.’
I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry in my life. I was angry when he left me, that’s for certain, but I’m absolutely furious that he’s back.
‘Our house,’ he tells me. ‘Our bed.’
‘The bed is three months old, you clown,’ I point out. ‘And seeing as though you didn’t put a penny into this place, and have never paid the mortgage, you can forget about this being our house.’
I don’t know why I’m arguing with a drunk person. Also, he’s right, this is technically our house. I feel so stupid now but back when we bought the place, when we were a couple talking about marriage and babies, and even though I was the one with the deposit money, we applied for the mortgage as a couple, in joint names. It didn’t occur to me to make a plan for what would happen to the house if Declan were to up and leave me one day. No one makes a plan to break up, do they? It would have been all the same if we had got married, I wouldn’t have thought to make him sign a pre-nup, those things are for the mega rich, with all their assets, not me and my fixer-upper. So, yes, it is technically his house, even if he didn’t put any money in, and even if he did bail on me right as all the major work started a year ago. The place can’t even resemble what it looked like the last time he was here.
‘I’ll throw him out, don’t worry,’ Dad tells me.
‘It’s okay,’ I insist. ‘Let him sleep it off. I’ll sleep in Jess’s room.’
‘Will you and Jess fit in that bed?’ Mum asks.
Declan starts snoring. I want to murder him.
‘Yeah, we’ll be fine, it’s just for tonight,’ I reply. Now doesn’t seem like the time to say she isn’t in there, and I would never throw my sister under the bus, so I don’t mention that I’m pretty sure she’s next door shagging the neighbour. I can’t imagine my parents appreciating that information, or Jess appreciating me telling them it.
‘We’ll kick him out tomorrow, when he’s sober,’ I tell them. ‘And after he’s cleaned this room.’
‘Well, I’m awake now,’ Mum announces. ‘Cuppa tea?’
‘I’d love a cuppa,’ Dad replies. ‘I’ll need to calm down, before I can sleep again.’
‘Billie?’
I’m absolutely shattered. I really need to sleep. Although Mum and Dad don’t know that I’ve just got in, given that I’d already ditched my night out clothes before they came running in through the door.
‘How come you’ve only just realised he’s in your bed?’ Mum asks curiously as we head for the hallway.
‘Wait, have you just got in?’ Dad asks, the pieces of the puzzle finally clicking together. ‘Out all night, again?’
‘It’s not even four,’ I protest. ‘And, once again, I’m in my thirties. I’m a grown, mature woman.’
‘A grown mature woman who stays out until four, a grown mature woman who is covered in garlic mayo, a grown mature woman who is so drunk she got into bed with her ex-boyfriend without knowing he was there,’ Dad rants to himself as he walks off.
‘Listen, while you’re having all your sneaky conversations with Dad, can you ask him to lay off me, please?’ I ask Mum once we’re alone. ‘He’s, like, missed the cut-off for entry to Dad of the Year by, like, decades.’
I realise I don’t sound very mature right now. And I do sound a bit drunk, but I’ve only been mildly tipsy all night. And why am I justifying myself? I am a grown woman.
A grown woman with her ex in her bed, though. I’ll have to figure out what I’m going to do about that tomorrow.
19
I open my eyes to find Jess staring down at me, like an excitable kid on Christmas morning, or a dog letting you know that it’s done a wee on the carpet while you were sleeping.
‘Someone was drunk last night,’ she sings as she looms over me. ‘So drunk that they got in the wrong bed.’
‘Well, I did wonder about how you were finding the stomach to sleep with a pig like Kenny,’ I say, pushing myself up onto my elbows. ‘Great to know booze is the answer.’
‘Erm, Kenny isn’t a pig, he’s a gent,’ she informs me.
‘He’s someone who capitalises on daddy issues,’ I tell her. ‘And we’ve got those in abundance.’
