The Meet Cute Method, page 20
‘Oh, you don’t have to do that for me,’ I insist.
‘After what you did for me?’ he replies. ‘We’re going to have a drink, I’m going to take a breather from work – because I gave myself two hours, to try and write this bloody thing – and instead I’m going to get to know you a little better. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard my son talk about a girl the way he talks about you.’
I smile.
‘That’s real love, that is, believe me. I’ve been with Eva more than two decades, I know what real love looks like,’ he insists.
‘Real love?’ I repeat back to him.
‘Of course,’ he says. ‘You are getting married, you know? You do love each other, right?’
Ronnie laughs, as though I may have forgotten. Obviously I had.
‘Of course I love him,’ I reply and, as the words leave my lips, I can’t help but wonder… do I love him? Do I actually love Max? Is that what’s going on here? Oh, brilliant, that’s just what I need. Only I could fall in love with my fake fiancé. I’ve really excelled myself this time.
31
‘Oh, Max,’ I blurt as I find him in the living room of our suite. He’s on the sofa, messing with his camera parts. ‘You’re back.’
‘I am,’ he replies. ‘Should I not be?’
‘No, no,’ I insist. ‘I just… I guess I lost track of time. What are you up to?’
‘You know when I talk about the spec and you stare at me blankly?’ he says with a smile.
‘Got it,’ I reply. ‘Well, the good news is that before I went for a walk, I finished up the keynote for the presentation. Here, have a peep.’
I grab the laptop from the coffee table and fire it up, proudly brandishing it for Max to see. It’s a good job I finished it earlier, because, honestly, I swear I’m a little tipsy from drinking champagne with Ronnie.
Max flicks through the slides, reading what I’ve written based on what he told me. Hopefully I’ve managed to capture exactly what Max wants to say about the camera he’s created, and why.
‘Frankie, this is brilliant,’ he says. ‘I swear, I didn’t say half of this, but I was definitely thinking it.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, edging into shy territory, because for some reason a compliment from Max is too much to take right now. ‘I really do fancy making the shift back to copywriting, if I can.’
‘I haven’t read any of your articles,’ he says. ‘But if you’re this good at copy, and that’s what you want to do, I say go for it. Is that what you thought about, when we were watching the sunset?’
‘Oh yeah, sure,’ I reply. ‘That and wanting to give you that kiss that we’re apparently not mentioning.’
Okay, that was definitely the champagne talking.
‘Erm… sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to say that,’ Max says.
‘I bet you didn’t,’ I say with a confidence I don’t usually have. ‘So, are we just not mentioning it, or…?
‘Are you okay?’ he asks me.
‘Yes.’ I sigh. ‘Sorry, this probably isn’t coming out right, I’ve been drinking champagne with your dad.’
‘What?’ he asks with a laugh. ‘You and Dad?’
‘Yep,’ I reply. ‘Don’t tell your mum but he was struggling with his vows, so I helped him. It was all his own thoughts and feelings. I just helped him get them into words you can say at a vow renewal. The champagne was because he was really happy with them.’
‘My dad doesn’t hang out with anyone,’ Max muses. ‘He measures his time in terms of money. He must really like you.’
‘Yeah, I’m really likeable,’ I insist with a smile.
‘Look, about the kiss,’ Max starts, getting the conversation back on track. ‘I only didn’t mention it because you didn’t. I thought perhaps you were regretting it.’
‘I thought you were regretting it,’ I reply. ‘And I wasn’t mentioning it because you weren’t.’
‘It’s a good job you were day drinking with my dad,’ he points out. ‘Or we would have both politely never mentioned it again.’
‘Good old day drinking,’ I say, leaning back on the sofa.
Max’s camera is plugged into the TV but it’s pointing at his face. This means that I can look at him without actually looking at him. I can see the look on his face, his eyes moving as he thinks, the corners of his mouth twitching as he goes to speak but then backtracks.
‘Okay, we’ve been doing this all wrong,’ he eventually says. ‘We met, I invited you on holiday, we’re pretending we’re engaged – none of that shit is usual.’
‘I can’t say I’ve had much experience recently,’ I reply. ‘But, no, I don’t suppose it is.’
‘Frankie.’ Max pauses to push his sketches out of the way, so that he can kneel down on the floor in front of me. He tries to keep a straight face, but I can see a smile fighting to break its way out. I’ve never felt more alive. ‘Would you like to go on a date with me?’
‘Ha!’ I practically cackle. ‘Sorry, that got me. Yes, yes, I would love to go on a date with you. Do you not need to work on your pitch for the morning?’
‘There’s one small thing I need to figure out with the camera,’ he says. ‘But I’m doing that now. Otherwise, I think we’ve done everything we can, all that’s left is to do it. We deserve the night off.’
‘Okay then,’ I say, trying not to sound as enthusiastic as I feel, lest I look like a total dork.
‘Okay, great,’ he replies. ‘I’d say pick you up at seven, but we’re kind of living together right now. See what I mean, all in the wrong order.’
I smile. It quickly falls.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asks.
‘Ah, it’s nothing,’ I say. ‘It’s stupid, it’s just that I pretty much hate everything my boss packed for me. It’s just a shame that I’m going on my first real date in ages and I don’t have anything “me” to wear.’
‘You know there’s a boutique here, right?’ Max says.
I stare at him.
‘Does this look like the face of a girl who knows there’s a boutique here?’ I reply, pointing at myself. Okay, I seriously need to get some coffee in me, because this can’t be charming.
Max just laughs.
‘And a spa,’ he adds. ‘I’ve got some work to finish up on this. Your part is all done. Why don’t you go treat yourself?’
‘Because I saw a nineteen-dollar bag of crisps at the bar,’ I reply.
‘Yes, but what you’re forgetting is that you have a keycard to a room paid for by Ronnie Ray,’ he reminds me. ‘And you can use that keycard in any of the shops and in the spa.’
‘As heavenly as that sounds, I cannot possibly use your dad’s money to buy clothes,’ I tell him.
‘Frankie, honestly, there isn’t anything you could buy that would make our room charges higher than anyone else’s, I promise you,’ he insists. ‘I’d be amazed if my dad hadn’t mentioned that he was a billionaire by now.’
‘Oh, he has,’ I say with a laugh.
‘I promise you, it feels like you’re taking the piss, but you’re not, that’s what this holiday is for,’ he says. ‘It’s my parents spoiling everyone rotten. Go get spoiled.’
‘Sorry, this just sounds so fake,’ I reply. ‘But, okay, sure, why not, I’ll go buy something to wear on our actual date.’
‘Great,’ he replies. ‘And if you see a Valentino shirt, grab it for me.’
He’s definitely joking, however…
‘Oh, I totally have your Valentino shirt in my case,’ I tell him. ‘The one you borrowed. I brought it for you. It’s been washed, it’s good as new again.’
‘Well, I know what I’m wearing tonight then,’ he replies with a smile. ‘Thank you.’
‘Right, okay, well, I’m about to go live out my Pretty Woman fantasy,’ I tell him. ‘Have you seen that film?’
Max shakes his head.
‘You’re just going to have to take my word for it that what I just said isn’t as bad as it sounds,’ I insist. ‘See you in a bit, don’t work too hard.’
I practically sing those last few words at him but, my God, I am so happy right now. I have a date. A date-date. A date-date with Max! I need a dress, maybe I’ll see if I can get a blow-dry and, most importantly of all, I need to find a buttload of coffee, because I definitely drank too much champagne with Ronnie. Still, it gave me the confidence to get what I wanted, and to clear up my misunderstanding with Max. Perhaps good things can finally start happening now, and it’s all kicking off tonight. Tonight on my date!
32
‘I’ll never understand why pineapple and cheese, as a pairing, is so divisive,’ I say as I finish up the last of my Hawaiian nachos. ‘What a dream team.’
‘I’m with you on that one,’ Max replies.
I shuffle in my seat.
‘I could eat those again but I won’t, because every bit of media I’ve ever consumed has warned of the terrible consequences of overeating in front of a man on a first date,’ I joke. ‘Plus, I’m leaving room for dessert.’
‘That’s more like it,’ he replies.
Dinner with Max has been so far so amazing. He picked me up right on time, and I was ready bang on seven. I mean, yes, okay, we are staying in the same suite, but I could have made him wait. There’s a lot written about ‘making them wait’ for basically everything. Dates, replies to messages, kisses, sex. Relying on a manipulative system to try to control the narrative of a relationship is a terrible idea – no one has ever let me put that in an article, though. That definitely wouldn’t make it to print. I’m supposed to tell people to wait this long for this, don’t do that if you want that to happen, blah blah blah.
I assumed we would be going to the restaurant, but Max had something better planned. Our own private table down on the beach, surrounded by tiki torches, with nothing but the roar of the sea to keep us company.
Max did wear the Valentino shirt, which I really like, because it reminds me of the first time we hung out together. He looked so good in it then and he looks even better in it now – especially against his suntanned skin. Of course, I know what’s going on underneath it now, that’s a hard sight to forget. But let the record show that I was massively attracted to Max long before I realised he has the body of an Avenger. As for me, well, after a trip to the boutique here at the Grand Palm Resort, let’s just say I found a dress that has me written all over it. Not literally, obviously, it doesn’t have anything written all over it, just Alexander McQueen written inside it. It’s a black square-neck minidress with a box-pleat skirt and silver zip all the way up the front. It’s short and full of attitude. Kind of like me.
It’s amazing how just wearing my own clothes – or clothes that I picked out, at least – is making me feel more myself. I feel more confident, I feel sexier and, bizarrely, I actually feel like I’m on a proper date.
‘You look unbelievable in that dress,’ he tells me. ‘I like the zip, although I have to admit, it kinds of reminds me of that thing I accidentally found in your room.’
‘Which…? Oh, that thing,’ I reply.
‘Yeah,’ he laughs. ‘That thing was interesting.’
‘It certainly was,’ I reply. ‘So… dessert?’
The reason I’m changing the subject is because – don’t laugh – I’ve totally got the bodice on under my dress. I know, it sounds… presumptuous, but that wasn’t what I was going for. Or maybe it was, I don’t know. I kind of thought it would be funny, to tell him I had it on, but that was probably just because they gave me more champagne at the spa. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to pounce on Max but, give me a break, it’s been a while since I felt so comfortable thinking about a man like that. Still, no matter what the reason is for me wearing it, the reason for me taking it off when we get back to the suite will probably be because it’s so uncomfortable. How on earth can anyone feel sexy in this?
‘Yes, dessert,’ Max replies, clearing his throat. ‘Obviously it’s got to be the vanilla-bean crème brûlée or the chocolate macadamia nut tart.’
‘That was exactly my thinking,’ I reply.
‘Well, then, let’s order both and share,’ Max replies with a smile.
Eventually our desserts arrive. Usually, if I agree to share two desserts with someone, there will always be one that I like the most, that I wish I had ordered for myself, but not today. Both are absolutely stunning.
‘How does this first date measure up then?’ Max asks curiously.
‘I mean, you haven’t tried to perform any medical procedures on me, and I haven’t taken you into the gardens to try and give you the slip, so that’s at least a six out of ten,’ I joke.
‘My highest score yet,’ he replies.
Max notices a little chocolate on the side of his index finger so he brings it up to his mouth and sucks it lightly. Now that I’m focusing on his mouth, all I can think about is how much I want to kiss him again. That kiss last night was really something. It wasn’t even just a quick kiss in the moment – once we started, neither of us wanted to stop. If it hadn’t been so cold up there once the sun was fully down, we might still be there now.
‘Do you want another drink or a coffee?’ Max asks. ‘Or do you want to go for a walk?’
‘A walk would be lovely,’ I reply.
‘Okay, let’s do it,’ he says.
As we walk from the beach, back into the heart of the resort which is alive with music, families and couples, chatting as we go, we somehow just naturally gravitate out of the noise again, towards our suite. It’s strange, because neither of us leads the way, it’s just where we end up. Once there, we head inside.
‘It’s warm in here,’ Max says as he partially opens the bifold doors.
‘I’ll grab us some drinks,’ I say as I head for the fridge.
Eventually I join Max on the sofa, taking a seat next to him, our legs just inches apart. I stare down at the gap between us, willing myself to move into it, but being too nervous to do it.
‘Do you—’ Max says.
‘Did you—’ I say at the same time.
‘Sorry,’ Max quickly apologises. ‘You go first.’
‘I was just going to say, did you work out that problem you were having with your camera earlier?’ I ask him.
‘Oh, yes,’ he says. ‘Look.’
Max messes with the TV remote before the camera on the table in front of us switches on. On the screen there’s a perfect image of us. It’s strange, kind of like watching yourself on Gogglebox.
‘So, obviously this monstrosity I’ve constructed is made up of several existing pieces of Optecho tech,’ he says. ‘The finished product will look sort of like it does in those drawings. But I’ve swapped the camera on us for one that is able to follow you around so, if you move out of shot, see…’
Max leans away from me. Sure enough, the camera does its thing and the image on the TV widens.
‘And if we get closer together,’ he continues.
He slides back over towards me. Now our thighs are touching. The camera zooms in closer on us.
‘That really is amazing,’ I say, placing my hand on his leg. ‘You’ve absolutely smashed it.’
‘We’ve smashed it,’ Max replies.
I keep my eyes on the TV, looking at my own hand on Max’s leg. My heart is pounding in my chest. My breathing feels heavy. I wiggle in my seat awkwardly.
‘Are you okay?’ Max asks me. ‘You’ve seemed a little… I don’t know… uncomfortable all night. If you want to walk things back a little, or—’
‘Oh, God, no, it’s not that,’ I quickly insist. ‘It’s nothing like that. It’s my dress. Well, it’s what’s under it, to be honest. I don’t think it’s designed for sitting down to dinner.’
‘Er… what’s…’ I detect the slight wobble in Max’s voice. ‘What do you mean by what’s under it?’ he dares to ask.
I wish I could be as brave in showing him. I have an idea. Something that might make this a little easier. I keep my eyes forward, on the TV, and slowly pull down the zip on the front of my dress, allowing it to fall open slightly at the front. God, those fully open cups are really, well, open. The open pieces at the front of my dress are just about covering my nipples still, but not by much.
‘You’re wearing it,’ Max says before puffing air from his cheeks.
‘Mhmm,’ I reply.
‘Does that dress unzip all the way?’ Max asks, his eyes fixed firmly on the TV.
I decide to show him, rather than tell him, which I probably only feel brave enough to do because I’ve kept a slow, steady drip of alcohol into my body all day, but I’m glad because the sexual tension in this room is practically suffocating.
Max takes his eyes off the TV to lean over and kiss my neck. It’s kind of sexy, watching him on the 80” TV in front of us, in a way that it absolutely wouldn’t be if we recorded it and watched it back. Seeing yourself like that can be awful and embarrassing, apart from when you’re in the moment, like we are now. I’m too wrapped up in Max to care.
I finally turn to Max and remove his shirt. As I mess with his belt, he leans me back on the sofa, pressing his body down on top of mine. Finally, we’re kissing again and this time we don’t have to stop for anything.
Max kisses his way down my body. I turn to look at the TV, but I’m quickly distracted by the reflection on the partially open doors. Okay, we don’t have to stop, perhaps just a brief pause though.
‘Wait, wait a second,’ I giggle, pulling him back up to eye level. ‘We should go upstairs. If anyone is out there, they’ll be getting a major peep show, if they can see the TV.’
‘You’re right,’ Max says. He kisses me for another ten seconds before jumping to his feet, helping me to mine and then leading me up the stairs.
Once we’re in the bedroom, the door safely closed behind us, I push Max back onto the bed before finally removing my dress (which I’m surprised is still hanging on to me at this point) and climbing on top of him.
As we start kissing again, upstairs, safely out of the way of the camera, I finally relax. It surges through my body like a wave. Suddenly nothing matters. I don’t care where I live, I don’t care if I’m going to lose my job – forget them, there are other apartments, other jobs. Right now, all I care about is Max, and he has my full, undivided attention.
