I take my phone from my clutch bag. Something I often do when I’m nervous; it’s as if I hide behind it. Millsy takes it from me and puts it in his trouser pocket.
‘You need to practise – flirt up a storm with him, see what happens. It will be good for your confidence. In fact…’
Millsy gives me a nudge in the man’s direction. Because I’m still so unsteady in these sky-high heels I’m not used to, I stumble over to him a little too enthusiastically, catching his attention as I present myself in front of him. While I might feel more confident because of my new look, I cancel this out by stumbling into the man.
‘Hi,’ I blurt.
‘Hi,’ the man replies. His face is void of any kind of emotion as he stares at me, waiting for me to say something.
‘Erm…’ I wrack my brains for something to say. Damn, Millsy was right, I really do need to work on my flirting. ‘Do you know where the toilets are?’
The man glances next to us, where two neon signs shine brightly. A blue one for the men’s and a pink one for the ladies’.
‘Oh, right, of course,’ I say.
I feel butterflies in my tummy – no, not butterflies, they feel more like bats. Big ones, desperately trying to find a way out.
‘Can I help you with anything else?’ he asks through a grin.
‘No, no, just the loos, and now I’ve found them so, I’ll go there…’
I make a move to head to the loos, even though I don’t need to go.
‘I like your hair,’ he says.
He stops me in my tracks.
‘Oh, thanks,’ I reply. ‘I just had it done today. It’s a bit different from what I’m used to.’
‘I used to have longer hair,’ he tells me. ‘I got it cut last year, grew a beard – people think I look like a different person. A better one. I looked like an ugly girly before.’
I laugh. Cute, charming, funny, doesn’t take himself too seriously. So Hades is where all the decent men have been hiding, huh?
‘Do you want to grab a drink, have a chat?’ he asks me.
What I need to do right now is to put the old me out of my head. I need to be the new me. Cara 2.0. The one who is full of confidence. The sex kitten. I’m going to have this guy eating out of the palm of my hand. I just need to do what Millsy told me: be more man.
‘I would love to,’ I reply, in my most flirtatious – yet still quite subtle – tone. Wow, is this how easy it is, to be cool and sexy? Is everyone else just pretending too? I thought maybe some people were sexy and some were dorks but… I really feel as if I’m doing it.
He fetches us a couple of glasses of champagne and, as we sit down in one of the booths in the VIP section, Millsy gives me a subtle thumbs up before getting back to chatting with his mates. I suppose this guy is one of his mates too.
‘I’m thinking of getting a pug,’ he tells me.
I laugh.
‘OK.’
I can’t help but smile. Of all the things we could talk about, he’s talking about dogs.
‘I’ve been to see a few, and obviously I want them all. But there’s this black pug, I think he’s the one for me. The problem is that, while my flatmate is happy for me to get one, he takes issue with the fact that I want to call him Count Pugular.’
Why did I have to be taking a sip of my drink when he said that? I laugh so hard I start to cough.
‘Did you just say Count Pugular?’
‘I did,’ he confirms, talking about this stuff as if it’s completely serious. ‘There was this kids’ show…’
‘Oh, I remember it,’ I tell him. ‘I remember it well. Count Duckula? I absolutely loved it growing up. I remember Nanny and Igor. Gosh, I haven’t thought about it in years. Decades, maybe.’
I don’t worry about sounding old because, if we both watched it growing up, we’re probably around the same age.
‘It’s a classic,’ he insists. ‘But my flatmate, he grew up in another country where they deprived him of Count Duckula, so he’s dead against it. I suggested a few other names. I thought about Mr Puggy – of course, my flatmate grew up without Noel’s House Party on TV, so he has no idea who Mr Blobby is.’
‘Do you want it to be something from your childhood?’ I ask.
‘I do,’ he replies. He smiles at me. ‘Don’t psychoanalyse me, but my parents would never let me have a dog so I really want to give him a name that I would have given him back then.’
‘Is Captain Pugwash too obvious?’ I ask.
He narrows his eyes as he smiles at me.
‘How on earth did I miss that one?’ he asks. ‘That’s a great idea. I’ll run it by my flatmate, see if he can live with it.’
‘It’s on-brand with your other suggestions so I’m not sure he’ll be a huge fan,’ I point out. ‘Did you ever watch Doug? You could just call him Pug… You’d know it was a reference to a kids’ TV show but to everyone else, it just seems like a cool, meta name.’
‘You’re good at this,’ he tells me.
‘We always had dogs in our family home. After the last two died recently, with me not being around any more and my brother being busy with uni, my parents decided to wait a while before rushing into getting any more. They were both so amazing, such a huge part of my life. I really miss having a dog around now. But one thing you will quickly learn is that, once you’ve got one, you’ll probably call him twenty completely daft names for every time you use his real one. Names that rhyme, names that describe the way he looks… And, by the time you’re calling him nicknames, he’ll already be a part of your family, and I remember my dad saying that he’d never get a dog, never wanted a dog. And every dog we’ve ever put in front of him, he’s instantly fallen in love with it. I’m sure your flatmate will feel the same before he even realises.’
Oh, God, why did I just talk about dog names for a solid five minutes, barely stopping to take a breath?
‘Wow, someone who likes dogs as much as I do,’ he eventually says with a smile. ‘That’s it, you’ve convinced me. I’m definitely going to get one.’
‘Glad to be of service,’ I tell him.
‘So, you live alone now?’ he asks.
‘Yes, in the city centre. I love being in the heart of the city. I grew up in a village, so it’s a completely different vibe.’
‘I grew up in a village too,’ he replies. ‘So I get exactly where you’re coming from. I live in Headingley now. It’s not quite the city centre but it’s alive with students pretty much 24-7. And it’s near work, so it’s perfect for me.’
‘I went to uni in Leeds so I know Headingley well,’ I reply.
‘How many times have you done the Otley Run?’ he asks.
‘Oh, God, a few,’ I reply. ‘But not for a long time. I don’t think I could handle it any more.’
‘We all still do it, at least once a year,’ he tells me. ‘We dress up, do it for charity.’
The Otley Run is the legendary pub crawl starting in Headingley and finishing in Leeds city centre. Participants will usually wear absolutely ridiculous fancy dress costumes to visit sixteen pubs along a one-and-a-half-mile route. Back when I was at uni, when I had uni friends, we did it a few times. I was the only local in my friendship group though, and everyone else moved back home after they graduated. I haven’t had anyone to do it with since.
I don’t know how long we chat for – it feels like forever. I don’t remember the last time I met someone and just hit it off with them like this. He’s so funny and charming. I certainly didn’t feel a genuine attraction like this towards any of my Matcher dates.
As I stare into his dark eyes, Millsy’s words ring in my ears: be more man. I do feel a lot more confident for my makeover, but not completely. If I’m going to do something bold, it isn’t going to come naturally, I need to act as if I’m confident and hope that the real deal isn’t far behind.
Without really thinking about it, and yet somehow still completely overthinking it, I do something completely out of character for me. I place a hand on either si
de of his face, lean in, and give him a kiss. It’s just a peck, before I quickly pull away, but it feels like progress.
‘Wow,’ he says.
I smile. Although I don’t think it was the kiss that blew him away so much as the surprise.
‘I realise this isn’t the best time to do this but I’ve just realised we never swapped names.’ He laughs, still sounding a little flustered.
‘Yes, we’re doing this in the wrong order, I think,’ I reply with a super-awkward, half-hearted chuckle. ‘I’m Cara.’
I offer him a hand to shake, which seems ridiculously formal considering I just planted a kiss on his lips.
‘I’m Johnny,’ he says, shaking my hand politely. ‘What are you doing tomorrow?’
‘Oh, not much,’ I reply. Of course, the real answer is absolutely nothing. ‘You?’
‘Well, I have work first thing in the morning.’
‘Work first thing on a Sunday – are you a priest?’ I joke.
Johnny laughs.
‘Nothing like that,’ he says. ‘I’m a rugby player. I’ve got some sponsorship meeting, nothing that means I can’t stay out a bit late.’
‘Oh,’ I blurt. ‘You know, I just need to go find my friend quick.’
‘OK,’ he says, not detecting my alarm. ‘Come back after.’
‘Mm-hmm.’
As I push my way through the crowd to find Millsy, suddenly all the big, muscular dudes make sense. Shit.
I find Millsy chatting up a petite brunette, which I suppose is on-brand for him.
I tap him on the shoulder. He does a double take.
‘Oh my God, if I don’t see you for a while, I forget that you look so different. I think you’re just a chick in a bar.’
I frown.
‘You know what I mean,’ he says.
‘Can I have a quick word with you?’ I ask.
‘Of course,’ he says. ‘Be right back, babe.’
My nose scrunches at his use of ‘babe’ – I guess this is the first time I’ve seen Millsy, the ladies’ man everyone keeps hinting at.
‘What’s up?’ he asks me when we’re alone.
‘Are you a rugby player?’ I ask him.
‘No,’ he replies.
I breathe a sigh of relief. I was worried for a second that everyone knew each other because they all worked together – and that they all knew Jackson too. I’m not exactly an expert at talking to men in bars, but I don’t imagine it’s a good look, seemingly flirting your way through a friendship circle.
‘I used to be their mascot.’
‘What does that mean?’ I ask, cocking my head curiously.
‘I was Leo the Lion,’ he says. ‘The Leeds Lions’ mascot. It was one of my first acting jobs – it’s a long story. I don’t do it any more but they still treat me like part of the team.’
‘So these are all Leeds Lions’ players?’ I check.
‘Yeah.’
‘So Johnny plays for them?’
‘Yeah,’ he confirms again. ‘Ooh, how did practising flirting with him go?’
‘Erm, fine, really well, actually. I kissed him.’
‘Oh, no, no, no, no,’ Millsy says. For the first time he looks a little worried, ushering me even further away from the crowd, towards the side of the room. ‘You weren’t supposed to kiss him, you were supposed to practise flirting with him. Everyone on this team who isn’t married – as well as a few who are – just sleep with as many girls as possible. I knew Johnny would hit on you, that’s why I encouraged you. To practise.’
‘But he was so sweet, and funny, and—’
'Talking about his dog?’
‘He said he was getting a dog…’
‘Yeah, that’s just what he does, that’s how he pulls,’ Millsy explains. ‘That’s why I suggested practising on him.’
‘I’m starting to think I shouldn’t be taking dating advice from you,’ I say with a sigh. I tug at my dress, as though it’s going to make it longer. ‘Or fashion advice.’
‘No, you look incredible,’ he insists. ‘But, yeah, OK, maybe I’ll lay off dishing out the dating advice. I don’t think what works for me is going to work for you.’
‘Anyway, I have bigger problems. Is there a player called Jackson?’
‘Yeah, Jackson Wolfe. Aussie fella.’
‘He’s the bloke I met at the bar yesterday.’
Millsy’s face falls.
‘Oh, God, no, don’t go near him,’ Millsy says. ‘Even the other players hate him. He’s a weird deviant. You say he approached you last night?’
I nod.
‘Yeah, he likes timid women, he’s not a great guy.’
‘Right, OK, fuck it, I don’t want a man at all. The makeover is great, if not slightly obscene, but no more men.’
‘No more rugby players, at least,’ he jokes. ‘You’re working your way through the team.’
I allow myself a little laugh.
‘So everyone in here is just looking for someone to shag?’
‘Basically,’ he says. ‘But I don’t want to shag you.’
He says this in a tone of voice that suggests he’s intending this as some kind of comfort.
‘Back at you,’ I reply. ‘It doesn’t seem like membership is all that exclusive.’
Millsy laughs.
‘Maybe just stick with me for the rest of the night, OK?’
‘OK, sure,’ I say. ‘But, moving forward, perhaps the club scene isn’t for me.’
‘Well, let me get you a drink, before you retire,’ he suggests.
In the VIP section of Hades, the champagne flows freely. Scantily clad servers float around in robes, popping corks, topping up glasses. Millsy grabs us a couple of glasses from on top of a gold grand piano that seems to be entirely decorative.
‘To your retirement from the club scene,’ he says, raising a glass.
‘I’ll drink to that,’ I reply, clinking my glass with his.
‘Cara,’ Johnny says as he approaches us. ‘Oh, hey, Mills. You two know each other?’
‘We’re friends,’ I reply.
‘Met at the STD clinic,’ Millsy says. I think this is supposed to put Johnny off me but he takes it as a joke.
‘I just wanted to see if Cara wanted to get out of here,’ he says – to Millsy, for some reason. Surely you’d ask a person something like that directly? Not that I want him to ask me at all. Suddenly all the men in here feel like predators and all I can think about is getting myself to safety.
‘Hey, guys,’ a familiar Aussie accent chimes in. ‘Sorry I’m late, I…’
As Jackson claps eyes on me, his voice trails off. I think it’s my new look that catches his gaze but it’s the familiarity in my face that keeps it.
‘Did we meet last night?’ he asks me. ‘We did, didn’t we? Wow, you look so different. I was going to give you a call… Can I get you a drink?’
‘Oh, I have a drink, thanks though,’ I blurt. I don’t really know what else to say.
‘We were actually just talking about getting out of here,’ Johnny tells him.
‘Yeah, well, we made plans to see each other again some time last night,’ Jackson says.
‘Well, she kissed me, did she kiss you?’ Johnny asks him.
I watch as Jackson’s blood boils. I feel as if there’s this pre-existing competitiveness between them that has nothing to do with me.
‘Is this revenge for Frances?’ Jackson asks him.
‘I thought you said nothing happened?’ Johnny replies as his eyes grow wider and his jaw visibly tightens.
‘Well, at least we’d be even, if that’s what was going on…’
‘Except I definitely slept with Lucy,’ Johnny points out with a smug smirk.
Yep, I’m definitely just a pawn in all of this.
Jackson picks up a champagne bottle from on top of the piano and launches it at Johnny, who dodges it before tackling Jackson to the floor.
Oh, God, how the hell have I got myself involved in something like t
his? I’m just a nerd who works from home and doesn’t really have much of a social life. The most controversial thing I’ve done as an adult is refuse to be a bridesmaid. I don’t cause fights.
The pair of them roll into my feet, giving me a knock that causes me to drop my drink and my clutch bag. Millsy quickly pulls me out of the way.
Soon enough the bouncers are here, pulling the two of them apart. No one says anything to suggest this, but you can just tell from the bouncers’ body language that they know who they’re pulling apart, and they seem to treat them with a greater degree of care than they would two lads scrapping in a Wetherspoons.
‘Now then, what are you two fighting about?’ a painfully Yorkshire-sounding bouncer asks.
‘It’s her fault,’ Johnny says, pointing towards me.
I suppose now he thinks I’m not going to sleep with him he doesn’t really want me around.
‘OK, you, out,’ the bouncer tells me.
‘What?’ I say, not that I care too much. I don’t really want to be here.
‘You heard,’ he says.
‘OK, just—’
‘Nope, out,’ he says again. This time he grabs me by the arm.
‘OK, wait a second,’ Millsy intervenes.
‘You can get out too,’ the other bouncer adds, grabbing Millsy.
As the pair of us are frogmarched out of Hades, in front of a sea of people who all think they’re super-cool and chill, all looking down their noses at us, I babble about needing my bag, but the bouncers don’t care.
‘Come back for it in the morning, when you’re sober,’ one of them tells me. ‘I’ll hand it to the office. You’re not getting back in tonight.’
‘Can you bring it to me now?’ I ask him. ‘I've not even had that much to drink.’
He doesn’t listen. Instead, they just shove Millsy and me out of a back door, into an alleyway, closing the door straight after.
I glance around the dark, wet, dirty alleyway. I hug myself self-consciously. Suddenly I feel quite vulnerable.
‘Don’t worry, the front is just around this corner,’ Millsy reassures me.
As I take a step to follow him my heel wobbles uneasily on the uneven floor.
‘Come here, take my arm,’ Millsy says, before carefully escorting me back out onto the busy, well-lit road.
The Plus One Pact Page 6