Only When It's Love: A Chick Lit, Romantic Comedy Novel: Holding Out For Mr Right

by Olivia Spring

  Yes. I’d better do it now before I changed my mind again.

  Me

  Hello, Miles, thanks for your message. I’d love to meet for a drink. 7.30 p.m. on Friday is perfect.

  Sorted. Done. Another date and another potential prospect on the cards. He probably wouldn’t measure up to Luke, but it was worth a shot. After all, as the saying goes, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

  Chapter Twelve

  I was on my way to Mr Fogg’s Tavern, a pub in Covent Garden, to meet Miles, and despite knowing that multi-dating was perfectly fine as long as there was no sex involved and you hadn’t made a commitment to go exclusive, I was still feeling a little guilty. Mainly because lovely Luke had messaged yesterday to ask if I wanted to meet up tonight and I’d had to tell him I was busy. I guessed it made a change, me turning a guy down. Normally, whenever they messaged, I was so accommodating and always tried to bend over backwards to please them, which as we’ve established, usually then ended with me on my back, in their bed, legs akimbo.

  But that was the old Alex. The new improved Alex was fast approaching the one-month mark of this challenge, having reached day number twenty-seven, and was feeling pretty damn pleased. Frustrated, yes, but still pleased with the achievement. As long as an attractive guy didn’t look at me, touch me or get too close to me (which is a challenge in itself on the packed tube during rush hour), then I was totally fine.

  Yep. All good.

  Totally!

  Maybe…

  Not.

  My phone pinged. My heart started thumping. Whenever I got a message just before a date, I instantly assumed that it was the guy messaging to cancel. I held my breath as I took my phone out of my bag. Phew. It was Roxy.

  Roxy

  How’s the challenge going? I’m swimming in a sea of dicks at the moment, so let me know if you’ve changed your mind and fancy some cock and I’ll send some your way!

  * * *

  She really was incorrigible! And crude.

  * * *

  Me

  All fine, thanks, Roxy! Thanks for the tempting offer, but I’ll pass…

  * * *

  I added some crying-myself-laughing emojis to keep it light-hearted.

  * * *

  Roxy

  If you say so, sweetheart. In that case, I’ll call the local convent and see if they’ve got space for you.

  She added a winky face. So cheeky! Still love her to pieces, though.

  * * *

  Me

  Ha ha! Anyway, better go, Rox. Off to a hot date. Hope all’s well with you? x

  * * *

  Roxy

  Okay, my love. All good my end. Happy leg crossing! xxx

  * * *

  Indeed. Well, how much I needed to cross my legs all depended on what the date was like, I guessed. I didn’t know that much about Miles, to be honest. All I remembered was that he was a thirty-seven-year-old doctor who liked films and eating out, and one of the photos on his profile picture was with a cute Labrador, so he either had a dog or liked animals, which was definitely a thumbs-up from me.

  We had a good match score, but I’d also scored highly with Eddie and one of the guys last week and those dates had been major flops, so sometimes you had to look beyond the numbers, past their profile and the pictures, then just take a chance and meet in person to see if there was that connection in real life.

  I was wearing a rich blue pencil skirt, skintight cream top, sheer tights and my heels. I nearly always wore fitted pencil skirts. Sometimes clingy dresses too, but never trousers. I wanted to, but Mum had always drilled it into me that men liked women to look feminine and sexy, so I guess it was still ingrained in my brain and I couldn’t seem to shake it. Even though deep down, I knew I’d be more comfortable in a pair of jeans or those nice loose trousers that Stacey always wore, I still couldn’t seem to help myself from believing that I’d stand a better chance of attracting a guy if I stuck to my uniform of skirts and figure-hugging tops.

  I’d arrived ten minutes early to give myself time to go to the loo and compose myself, but as I walked through the door of the dark green brick building, which was decorated with bright flowers and gas lamps, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

  ‘Hi, Alexandra, I’m Miles.’

  ‘Oh, hi!’ I said, surprised that he was also early and that he instantly recognised me. I guessed, looking around, there weren’t that many women with long dark hair.

  It was like I’d entered another era. This pub had a Victorian feel. Made sense as I remembered reading when I’d googled it earlier that it had been inspired by Around the World in Eighty Days, hence why it was overflowing with Phileas Fogg regalia. There were ageing souvenirs, knickknacks and even a boat swinging merrily from the ceiling. Vintage music played in the background, and all of the staff were dressed in period costumes. Very cool. It was busy, but not overcrowded, and the atmosphere was lovely and relaxed.

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ I added as Miles leant forward and gave me a kiss on each cheek.

  ‘You too. I’ve saved us a table over here,’ he said, pointing to an area past the curtains against the back wall. ‘Thought it would be better than sitting too close to the bar. Is this okay for you?’

  ‘It’s perfect. Thanks.’

  ‘Great!’ he said, pulling out a chair for me to sit down.

  ‘Oh, thank you,’ I said. How nice. I knew I was perfectly capable of doing that myself, but there was something romantic about it being done by a guy. What could I say? I was easily pleased.

  ‘You look lovely,’ he said, moving to stand opposite me.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, conscious that I’d said thank you what felt like a dozen times in the past thirty seconds. All for good reason, though. He looked great too.

  As another of my ‘wild cards’, apart from his short, dark neatly trimmed hair, Miles wasn’t my normal type. He was clean-shaven, whereas I’d developed a penchant for guys with stubble or beards. He also wore glasses, and I’d never dated a guy with specs before. His dress sense was quite smart. Not suit-smart like Luke was on our first date. A little more relaxed, but still very polished.

  He was wearing black trousers, very shiny shoes (they were that sparkly, I could probably do my make-up in them) and a sky-blue shirt underneath a navy-blue jumper. My favourite colour. Some of my male friends had told me they often wore a jumper as a second layer when they couldn’t be bothered to iron the whole shirt, as then they only needed to press the collar and cuffs, but Miles didn’t strike me as that kind of guy. Either that or he was just cold and wanted extra padding. After all, we were now in October.

  ‘What can I get you to drink? Being a humble pub, this place doesn’t have table service, so I’ll just go and get them.’

  ‘It’s lovely here,’ I said, looking around. I did love a good pub, and even though I’d only been here a few minutes, I could tell I’d like to come here again. As well as being really unique, it was very intimate, warm and cosy. ‘I’ll have a glass of rosé, please,’ I said, and he smiled and headed over to the bar. I was about to reach into my bag to get my purse, and then I remembered Stacey’s advice. Let the man pay. It grated at me, but I left him to go up and do his man’s thing and get the drinks. Maybe I’d offer him the money when he got back to the table. Didn’t want him thinking I couldn’t pay my own way.

  I glanced at the menu. Now that’s more like it. Most drinks were under a tenner. Much more reasonable than the prices I’d seen on a lot of these dates. They even did some cool snacks here. Depending on how the date went, maybe we could order some later.

  As Miles stood against the bar with his back to me, I studied him carefully. It was hard to tell exactly what his body was like. Unlike jeans, which the guys I dated typically wore, his trousers hung fairly loosely so didn’t show as much of an outline. And with the multi-layer shirt/jumper combo, I couldn’t really work out the shape and definition of his arms and chest either. No ogling tonight, then.

  ‘So,’ he said, placin
g the drinks down on the table and taking his seat. ‘Thanks for meeting me tonight. I was chuffed to get your message.’

  ‘No probs. Thanks for messaging.’ Gosh, this was all so polite.

  ‘To tell you the truth, I was this close to throwing in the towel and kissing goodbye to the whole online dating thing, and then I spotted your profile and I thought, Okay, let’s give this one more roll of the dice.’

  ‘So what you’re saying is your future membership for all online dating sites rests entirely on my shoulders? If it goes badly, you’ll abandon the apps altogether? No pressure, then!’ I laughed.

  ‘Yep. That’s pretty much the size of it. But, Alexandra, there’s always the alternative, which is that if it goes well, I’d also need to abandon the apps so that we can sail off into the sunset together. Either way, I’d like to delete them, but would prefer to do that because I’ve found someone special.’

  ‘Aha!’ my eyes widened. ‘So are you a romantic, then, Miles?’

  ‘I’d like to think so…I mean, it’s not for me to say that I’m a big romantic, as I believe in many ways being romantic is down to how you make a woman feel, so it’s for her to decide whether I am or not. But, even though I know it’s not very cool to admit it, I like romance. Who wouldn’t want to fall madly in love?’

  ‘A lot of the guys I’ve been dating over the years, for starters.’

  Oops, not sure if I was supposed to talk about other guys and failed relationships…Sorry, Laurie.

  ‘Sounds like some of the women I’ve met too, but I’m sensing you’re different…’

  ‘Of course I am!’ I said, remembering to sell myself this time. ‘Well, like you, I’ll be modest and say that I also think so, but ultimately, it’s for you to find out.’

  ‘Well, I look forward to doing that.’ He smiled.

  Wow. What a beautiful smile he had. His whole face beamed and his big brown eyes sparkled brightly. Maybe the reflection of his glasses amplified the glow. I felt my stomach flip.

  ‘I look forward to sharing,’ I said as I began playing with my hair.

  ‘Great. Well, let’s start that now, shall we? I’d love to hear everything about you.’

  ‘Really?’ I said, surprised that he was immediately interested in chatting about me.

  ‘Absolutely!’ he said, flashing his smile.

  ‘Well, how long have you got?’

  ‘All night.’

  ‘Then again, I could probably summarise my life in ten minutes, so we could still make it home in time to catch the evening soaps on TV.’

  Ugh. Now I’d made myself sound like a woman whose life revolved around watching television. It was hard following all these rules about not saying this and that.

  ‘Oh, I doubt it. You seem like you’d be someone I could talk to for hours,’ said Miles, rescuing my faux pas and instantly making me feel at ease. ‘And I’d much rather be here finding out about you than watching soaps. Not that there’s anything wrong with watching soaps if that’s what you enjoy.’ He laughed again. At least I wasn’t the only one putting their foot in it.

  ‘It’s okay!’ I laughed again. ‘I’m more of a romantic film buff than a soaps or TV person.’

  ‘See!’ His face lit up like the Eiffel Tower at night. ‘I knew I liked you. So come on, then: favourite romcom?’

  ‘Ooooh!’ I gasped. ‘That’s like asking me to choose my favourite child. Not that I have children, just to clarify, but you know what I mean.’

  ‘I do, I do. But stop stalling. Come on,’ he pressed. ‘Which one?’

  ‘Not fair!’ I said, desperately trying to think of all the great films I’d watched in my lifetime and compile a mental shortlist. ‘You can’t pressure me for a quick answer. That’s too hard a question! You might as well have asked me to spend the evening explaining algebra in Dutch.’

  ‘Well, you can do that if you prefer? Can’t promise I’ll be able to stay awake or understand what you’re saying, though,’ he chuckled.

  ‘Very funny! I can’t even speak Dutch!’

  ‘You’re stalling!’ He crossed his arms, pretending to be serious, but his cheeky grin said otherwise.

  ‘Okay, okay. What about top five romcoms?’ I fluttered my eyelashes in the hope that I could persuade him.

  ‘Cop-out.’

  ‘That’s all I can offer you right now, I’m afraid. This is what happens when you put people on the spot,’ I laughed.

  ‘Go on, then. But they’d better be good!’

  ‘They will be, Miles. Anyway’—I frowned—‘what would you know about romcoms? You’re a guy?’

  ‘So sexist!’ he huffed. ‘Beneath this rugged male exterior is a soft-hearted metrosexual who isn’t completely averse to the idea of snuggling up on the sofa on a Sunday afternoon to watch a good romantic comedy with a glass of wine and a bowl of popcorn.’

  Really? Now that was interesting. Most guys I’d dated would only watch my favourite films with me under duress and tended to either fall asleep or moan all the way through about how soppy they were.

  ‘Sweet or salty?’ I asked.

  ‘You’re deflecting and stalling again!’ He raised his eyebrow. Miles had nice brows. Thick, dark and natural. I wasn’t keen on the male eyebrow-shaping thing. Good to take pride in your appearance, but personally I preferred them to look how nature intended. Untamed, uneven and perfectly imperfect. ‘I’ll tell you my preferred variety of popcorn when you tell me your favourite romcom films. I’ve already stretched it to five choices and you’re still playing for time!’

  ‘Alright. Let me see…’ I rested my finger on my chin as I pondered. ‘In no particular order: When Harry Met Sally…’

  ‘Classic. Okay. Next?’

  ‘The Holiday…’

  ‘Yes, yes. Absolutely!’ His eyes widened. ‘Love that film! Carry on…’

  ‘Pretty Woman…’

  ‘Yeah. Can’t have a romcom list without Julia Roberts.’

  ‘Number four: Notting Hill or maybe Love Actually. I can’t decide,’ I replied.

  ‘Cop-out! Love Actually is a controversial one, but we can debate that another time. What’s the last one, then, in your top five?’

  ‘Um…this is so hard!’ I took a swig of my rosé, hoping it would give me some inspiration.

  ‘You said you’re a film buff and that you love romance, so now’s the time to prove it. You can do it, Alexandra!’ He beamed.

  ‘Okay, okay. It’s a toss-up between Sleepless in Seattle, one of the three Bridget Jones’ Diary films, You’ve Got Mail and To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before.’

  ‘That’s cheating!’ He threw his arms up in the air in mock-protest. ‘You’re trying to cram six films into one slot! Get off the fence and choose!’

  ‘I just can’t! Anyway,’ I said, trying to take the spotlight away from my blatant cop-out, ‘didn’t you claim to be a romantic? So why am I doing all the film choosing? Bet you can’t even name three great romcoms, never mind five. And they can’t be any that I’ve already mentioned, obviously.’

  ‘Easy!’ he said calmly, like I’d just asked him to say the first few letters of the alphabet.

  ‘Go on, then. Or are you just stalling?’ I smirked.

  ‘As you’ll get to know Alexandra, I am a man of my word. And unlike someone I’ve just met, I’m decisive too. No sitting on the fence. Here we go: three romcoms I like, also in no particular order. Drum roll, please,’ he said, slapping his hands on the table as I joined in. ‘The Proposal, Crazy Stupid Love and It’s Complicated.’

  ‘Ah, dammit!’ I slapped my hand on my forehead. ‘Forgot about those! Excellent choices!’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, taking a bow.

  ‘You really do know your romcoms. And you were right, you did come up with three very quickly.’

  ‘Why, thank you!’

  ‘Then again,’ I said, ‘you did have much longer to think about it than I did. And it was your question, so maybe you’ve been thinking about it all day…’

/>   ‘Ah! So cynical. You’re not a sore loser, are you?’

  ‘Are you calling me a loser?’ I chuckled.

  ‘Of course not. No winners or losers here. Just two film fans exchanging notes. What about the old romcoms? You know, from the 1950s? Have you ever seen any of those?’

  ‘I haven’t, actually,’ I said.

  ‘A lot of people our age haven’t. We tend to watch more modern films,’ he said. ‘I only discovered some old Cary Grant films by chance when I was channel surfing one Christmas and loved them.’

  ‘I’ll have to look some up on Netflix,’ I replied.

  ‘I don’t think there’s many on there, but I’ve got some DVDs. Maybe one day we can watch them together?’

  ‘That would be lovely!’ I caught myself saying without even thinking. What about Luke? Surely I shouldn’t be agreeing to watch DVDs with another man when Luke was already practically planning our nuptials?

  It would be nice though. Romantic. And sexy.

  Oh God…

  I tried to push away the vision of Miles and me snuggled up on the sofa, watching a romcom. The credits would roll, and we’d kiss passionately and end up making love on the sofa…

  Stop it. Stop it. Stop it! Stop thinking about bloody sex!

  I thought Stacey said it got easier after the first month…

  Now where was I? Rolling around naked on the sofa with Miles and feeling guilty about Luke…

  Sod it. I was supposed to be keeping my options open until he committed properly, so maybe I just needed to worry about it if and when the time came.

  ‘Great!’ said Miles. ‘And you can bring the popcorn. Sweet and salty will be just fine.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t sit on the fence?’ I laughed. ‘Pick one or the other!’