The Meet Cute Method, page 9
I’ve got to give him ten out of ten for his bedside manner. I just wish I’d picked someone who wasn’t a doctor to do this with.
I’m stunned, honestly, this is the last thing I expected to happen. What am I supposed to do? I definitely can’t tell the truth now, can I? Can I? If I do, he’ll probably still insist on taking me to A & E, but to get my head checked instead of my royal-blue tongue.
I just nod helplessly. What else can I do? God knows how I’m going to get myself out of this one.
13
I’ve always hated hospitals. There’s something about them – I want to say it’s the smell, the colour of the walls, the atmosphere. It isn’t, though, is it? You could fill the place with expensive diffusers, hang luxury wallpaper on the walls, and pump soothing classical music into the air. It wouldn’t change a thing. The thing about hospitals that makes them a horrible place to be is because we all know. We know what goes on here. And, while we know we should be focusing on the babies being born and people ringing the cancer-free bell, that isn’t what we focus on. Hospitals remind us all of our own mortality, and as scary as they are when you are worried something might be wrong with you, today I am freaking out because I know that nothing is wrong with me. I have to get out of here now.
Dr Quill told me to check in at the desk before getting to work himself, promising to keep an eye on me. Thing is, with the way A & E is laid out, he’s basically still in my eyeline, and I am in his. He really can keep an eye on me. So I joined the queue for the desk but then quickly took a seat, hoping he would assume I’d been checked in while he was looking down at notes or chatting to one of the busy nurses. Now I’m sitting here, on an uncomfortable plastic chair, in a room full of people who do genuinely need help, feeling like a prize arsehole, waiting for my moment to do a bunk, when Dr Quill won’t be as likely to run after me.
‘I’m sure you’re going to be fine,’ the man sitting next to me tells me.
He looks down at my leg, which I’ve been jigging nervously, before making eye contact with me again, giving me a reassuring smile.
‘I’m Chris,’ he says.
‘Frankie,’ I reply to him.
‘We’re in this together, Frankie,’ he tells me with a smile. ‘We’ll both be out of here before you know it.’
‘Sounds great,’ I reply. ‘I think I can probably leave right now, to be honest.’
It hasn’t escaped my attention that this situation does have all the makings of a meet cute, but I do really, really need to get out of here. There’s no time for that right now.
‘You can’t just leave,’ Chris says. ‘Aren’t you waiting for something? There must be a reason you’re here? I get that you’re worried, so am I.’
‘It’s nothing to worry about, honestly,’ I reassure him. ‘Let’s just say I had a bit of an accident with a man I don’t know and it’s left me in this mess.’
Setting him straight – without the embarrassing details – is my only option at this point.
Chris leans in to me, close enough to whisper in my ear.
‘I never would have said this, if you weren’t so honest,’ he starts. ‘But that’s pretty much why I’m here too. Except with a woman, obviously, but I think we might be here for the same clinic, if you know what I mean.’
I nod slowly as the realisation hits me.
‘I just need to go to the loo,’ I lie.
‘Oh, don’t worry, I get it, I totally get it,’ he says with a wince.
I doubt my fake smile is hiding my horror. It couldn’t possibly.
‘Back in a sec,’ I say.
I edge away before moving in the direction of the toilets. Once I’m around the corner, I make a dash for the exit.
So, not a meet cute. Not a meet cute at all. Just another total fucking nightmare.
14
‘You really don’t seem yourself today,’ Cora points out over the top of her cup of tea.
‘Sorry,’ I say, pulling my eyes from my blank screen, to look her in the eye. ‘I’m fine.’
‘You’ve not even commented on my T-shirt,’ she replies, sticking her chest out.
The bold black text on a white tee reads:
Sorry I’m late, I didn’t want to come.
‘I genuinely love it,’ I tell her. ‘Can we get me one for my parachute jump?’
Cora can’t hide the look on her face. She feels so sorry for me. I feel kind of pathetic.
‘I can’t believe Addison managed to get it arranged,’ she says. ‘How did she even convince someone that it was a good idea?’
‘I think, when she eventually realised it was a parachute regiment that she needed, she just called up and said that one of her writers for Stylife Magazine was wanting to write a feature about how to get more women into the military,’ I explain, my eyes widening at how stupid that sounds.
‘Do you really have to do that?’ she replies.
‘God knows – I hope not,’ I say. ‘I can’t even get people to move their bags off the seat on the bus, no one is going to listen to me telling them they should be signing up to fight for their country.’
‘When is it?’ she asks.
‘Next week,’ I reply. ‘Do you want to go grab some lunch? I’m starving, and I’m basically in last-meal territory.’
‘I would love to, but I’ve got a meeting in five minutes,’ she replies. ‘I know it doesn’t mean much when you’re scared of heights, but they do this type of thing all day, every day, I’m sure it’s safe.’
‘Thanks,’ I say with a smile.
‘Could you talk to Addison? Explain just how scared you are?’ she suggests.
‘She doesn’t make anything sound optional,’ I reply. ‘Everything is a suggestion – unless you’re not going to do it, then it’s an order.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Cora says, nibbling her lip, unsure what to say next.
I sigh.
‘Well, if it’s just me for lunch, I’ll pop to the canteen for a sandwich and a breather,’ I tell her. ‘Addison will be back from lunch soon. I can’t face her right now.’
‘We could go for a drink after work?’ Cora suggests. ‘If we put our heads together, I’m sure we can come up with something.’
‘Thanks,’ I reply. ‘Right, time to go raid the baked goods.’
‘This meeting is going to be well over an hour, can you bring me a brownie, please?’
‘Of course.’
To call the work canteen a canteen is almost offensive. It’s a café-meets-restaurant with a bougie menu, artisanal baked goods and overpriced drinks to rival your favourite coffee shop. I’m not complaining, though. How amazing, to have such a thing in the building. It’s just a bit like, I don’t know, having a McDonald’s for a school canteen; an absolute dream to have, but ultimately still full of people you go to school with, and still in school. I do love the food here, and it’s a beautiful place, but at the end of the day, I am still in work. It doesn’t quite feel like a proper break.
The canteen is always busy – another reason I usually prefer to go out. I shuffle through the motions, grabbing a cheese and chutney sandwich, a bag of chardonnay vinegar crisps, and a bottle of apple juice. I pay for them before aimlessly wandering through the tables, looking for somewhere to sit. I love the seats by the window, because I’m obsessed with the view from this building, but it’s always hard to get a window seat. I sigh.
‘Oi, Frankie,’ I hear a voice call out.
My eyes dart around for a few seconds before I spot him. Max, sitting at a table, eating a sandwich.
‘Oh, hi,’ I say as I approach him.
‘Are you looking for somewhere to sit?’ he asks.
‘Yes, are you—’
I’m about to ask if he’s leaving but Max gets in there first.
‘Do you want to sit with me?’ he asks.
Is it warm in here or are my cheeks flushing?
‘That would be great, thank you,’ I reply, as casually as I can, but obviously I’m jumping for joy on the inside. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Ah, you know,’ he says with a shrug. I can tell he doesn’t quite seem himself, even though I don’t really know him all that well.
‘I know just how you feel,’ I reply as I take a seat opposite him.
‘Want to talk about it?’ he asks with a smile.
Another reason to like Max. Even when he’s clearly having a bad day, he wants to hear about mine.
‘It’s stupid, really,’ I start. ‘My editor wants me to do something I’m not comfortable with.’
‘I suppose I’m lucky because you don’t get that when you write about gadgets,’ he replies.
‘Yeah, and it’s worse than it sounds. She wants me to…’ I shouldn’t mention the meet cutes, it will make me look crazy, ‘…write an article, encouraging women to join the military, and for some reason, this is going to involve me being strapped to someone from the parachute regiment, and thrown out of a plane.’
‘Wow,’ is about all he can say. I can see the disbelief and the pity on his face. ‘That’s just… wow.’
I raise my eyebrows in acknowledgement. I don’t know what it is about Max, but something about him makes me feel like I can be honest.
‘I don’t know if I’ve had enough of this job,’ I confess. ‘Or if I just need a holiday. It’s been forever since I went on holiday, or even had a proper break. I’m just always too busy, or everyone else is. Anyway, that’s me done complaining for the day, what’s going on with you?’
I feel better just for saying it out loud. My appetite is finally back with me, so I open my sandwich and tuck in.
‘Well, now you’re going to make me look like an arsehole,’ he jokes. ‘My problem is sort of the opposite of yours.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yeah, I am going on holiday,’ he says. ‘In a few days, actually.’
Is it pathetic that I feel like I’m going to miss him? Yes. Yes, it is.
‘Oh, nice,’ I say, putting on a little enthusiasm for him. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Hawaii,’ he replies.
Now I really am jealous.
‘The only problem is that my friend has dropped out last minute, he has to work, which means I’m going alone,’ he continues. ‘And there’s a big difference between going on your own and going with a friend.’
‘I don’t think I’d have the confidence to go on holiday alone,’ I admit. ‘But I am still really jealous. Jealous that you’re going on holiday – and incredibly jealous you’re going to Hawaii. I’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii. Where are you going?’
‘A resort in Wailea, Maui, for two weeks,’ he replies. ‘It’s an amazing place. It’s got five stars. It’s on the beach, it has pools, a golf course, a spa, restaurants – everything you could possibly want.’
I take an almost violently theatrical bite from my sandwich.
‘All right, all right, I already told you I was jealous,’ I joke. ‘I’d much rather be on a plane to Hawaii alone than in a plane above an airfield where I’m going to be promptly yeeted out of the open door against my will.’
Max pulls a face at me.
‘What?’ I say, starting to feel a little self-conscious. ‘Do I have chutney on my face?’
‘No, I was just thinking,’ he starts, pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts. ‘Yeah, no, okay, why don’t you come with me?’
‘Ha, good one,’ I reply before taking a big swig of my drink. I practically spit it at him when I notice the look on his face. ‘Are you serious? You’re being serious.’
‘I’m being serious,’ he says with a laugh. ‘I know, it sounds crazy, but you need a holiday, I have a holiday. It’s free, because it’s all already paid for, and you would have your own room, obviously.’
‘Oh, so it won’t be like the movies, making a little barricade down the centre of the bed, so our arms and legs don’t touch,’ I joke. I still think there’s a chance he’s just kidding.
‘Your own bed, a whole resort at your disposal, the chance to go to Hawaii,’ he says, hyping it up. ‘And I don’t have to go alone. It’s win-win.’
‘You really are serious, aren’t you?’
‘I am, honestly,’ he insists with a smile. ‘Frankie, person I hardly know, would you do me the honour of coming on holiday with me?’
I cackle, amused, but in total disbelief, and the most excited I have ever been in my life.
‘It’s only a few days away, it might get you out of your parachute jump,’ he points out.
‘I’ll think about it,’ I say. God, imagine, going somewhere as gorgeous as Hawaii, and with Max! But I can’t possibly go, can I? Yes, I desperately need a break and, yes, I would do almost anything to get out of this parachute jump. But I hardly know the guy, and I can’t just take time off work last minute.
‘Let me give you my number,’ he says. ‘That way, if you decide you want to come, you don’t have to go through the switchboard. And maybe you can give me yours – that way, if you don’t come, I can send you pictures of my tan to make you jealous.’
His cheeky smile and that twinkle in his eyes when he makes a joke drives me wild.
We swap phones.
‘Max Ray,’ I say, taking my phone back, looking at his full name.
‘Frankie George,’ he says back to me. ‘I’d better get back to work, but keep me posted, Frankie George.’
‘Will do,’ I say with a smile.
I let him walk away before I allow my smile to intensify. I can’t go on holiday with him, of course I can’t, for so many reasons, but he asked me. He asked me. I’m going to count that as a victory.
15
I’ve been trying to get some work done all afternoon, but I just can’t get my head in the game. One word: Hawaii.
Yep, even though I obviously can’t go on holiday with someone who is pretty much a stranger, that isn’t stopping my brain from taking me there, wondering what it would be like, imagining spending time with Max outside of work, the sun kissing my skin as I neck cocktail after cocktail, just spending the days relaxing, taking dips in the pool, breathing in the sea air, visiting the spa, eating all the delicious food. How am I supposed to work under these conditions?
The thing is that, as gutted as I am that I can’t go, I think the fact that Max even asked me if I wanted to go is huge, and that alone is worth getting excited about. So huge and exciting that I’m struggling to keep it to myself, but Cora had no sooner finished her meeting when Addison called her into her office for a chat. Now I’m just sitting here, practically rocking back and forth in my chair, waiting for her to come out so that I can tell her all about it.
Eventually she emerges. She smiles when she sees me.
‘You’re never going to guess what happened at lunch,’ I say.
‘Ooh, what?’ Addison asks, hot on Cora’s heels. ‘Did you finally manage a meet cute that doesn’t come with an STD and isn’t followed by an arrest?’
I hope she’s joking around, but she seems serious.
‘Oh, no, it’s not work,’ I tell her. ‘It’s just a personal thing.’
‘I like to hear those too,’ she replies. I’m always suspicious when she paints herself as human.
She sits down in Cora’s chair. Cora just hovers behind her awkwardly.
‘Erm, okay,’ I say, shaking off any worries I have about telling Addison about my personal life. It’s bad enough she’s so heavily involved in my work. I wouldn’t mind her taking a special interest in me and my silly project if it came with the promise of job security. ‘I went for lunch in the canteen and I bumped into Max.’
‘That’s the smoking-hot one from the tech website?’ Addison confirms.
‘Yes,’ I reply, almost uncomfortably, ever so slightly worried she might try to steal him. You never know. ‘He asked me if I wanted to eat lunch with him, so I sat down and we got chatting and eventually he tells me that he’s going on holiday to Hawaii in a few days.’
‘Lucky bastard,’ Addison says.
‘But, get this,’ I start again, pausing for dramatic effect. ‘He was going with his friend, but his friend dropped out at the last minute because he has work, and out of nowhere Max asked me if I wanted to go with him in his friend’s place.’
‘What?’ they both squeak in unison.
‘He invited you on holiday with him?’ Cora says in disbelief.
‘He invited me to go to a five-star resort with him, for two weeks, in Hawaii, for free,’ I clarify, sounding as smug and delighted as I would if I were really going. ‘I was banging on about needing a holiday, he was saying he didn’t want to go on his alone, and it was like all the pieces clicked into place and he invited me to take his friend’s spot. Obviously I’m not going to go, though.’
‘Why ever not?’ Addison asks. ‘Are you out of your mind?’
‘Erm.’ I laugh awkwardly. ‘Well, it’s in a few days, and I have a job, you’re my boss, so you expect me to be here, obviously. But also, I don’t really know the guy. It would be weird to go on holiday with a stranger, even if he did say I would have my own room.’
‘You know everything you need to know about him,’ Addison tells me. ‘He’s one of the hottest men in this building. And, as you know, all employees here are subject to strict checks, so you know he’s not an ex-convict or a paedo.’
‘The first thing I check for on people’s dating profiles,’ I joke.
‘Also, yes, you have a job, but don’t you think this meets the brief of your article?’ she says, snapping back into work mode. ‘Surely this is the ultimate meet cute? You have to go. Readers will love to hear about this. The article is evolving. You need to write about this meet cute specifically – all the others went terribly anyway, bin those off, no one wants to read about your embarrassing stories – people will want to read about whether or not you find love from this.’
