Anyway, we settled on a compromise. He insisted on ropes but did say we didn’t have to do it in a forest. We could do it indoors, full health and safety regulations in a controlled environment. I don’t think it was quite what he was aiming for. Not exactly wild and exhilarating, but still scary and pulse-raising. And involving stepping out of my comfort zone and letting go (not that I’m going to physically let go, are you kidding me?).
We’re at a climbing wall. In an old converted church. And I am in Stuart’s capable hands, which is slightly exciting, and not at all scary. But I’m not going to tell Noah that. I know the scary part is yet to come.
‘This isn’t supposed to be a date!’
‘Shit, ahh!’ I am so shocked when Noah pops his head up over the other side of the wall that I nearly forget to hold on. ‘What are you doing up here?’
I have got to the scary bit. I am miles up from ground level, clinging to frail bits of plastic and a far too thin rope. The last thing I need is somebody popping his head over from the other side like a flaming meerkat.
‘Keeping an eye on you. What are you playing at? Making eyes at him?’ He hisses.
‘Who?’
‘The instructor!’
‘I’m not—’
‘Yes, you were! You were,’ he struggles to find the right word, ‘simpering!’
That is so not the right word. I nearly laugh, except laughing would involve relaxing muscles, and at the moment I have everything tensed against disaster. ‘I do not simper!’
‘You were flirting!’
‘That’s what you do all the time,’ I fling back at him, ‘now get down, go away.’ I’d wave him away, but I’m too busy clinging on.
‘Everything okay up there, Rosie?’ Stuart’s voice rings out loud and clear.
‘Fine, fine.’ I daren’t turn round, or look down, or basically move in any direction. I can hiss though. ‘Go away, Noah!’
‘Promise me you’ll stop flirting.’
‘I’m not flirting, he just likes me! And isn’t that the point of all this?’
‘No! It’s not a flirting workshop, today is about you, and taking risks!’
‘I am taking a frigging risk, and anyway aren’t sex and danger linked?’
He glares at me. In fact, he’s more glower-y today than I’ve ever seen him.
I tilt my head on one side – well as much as I can with a helmet and load of gear on while I’m hanging on for dear life. ‘Anybody ever told you you’re quite sexy when you scowl?’
‘Trust me, you shouldn’t flirt with him.’
‘Trust you? I did trust you and now I’m stuck at the top of a bloody wall! This is worse than being in a bloody relationship!’ I don’t think this comment has helped.
‘Fine.’ He lets go with one hand.
‘Don’t, oh God, don’t. Hold on properly!’
‘Rosie.’ He looks me in the eye, still not holding on. I’m trembling and I don’t know whether it’s because he is staring at me so intently that I’m sure he can see exactly what I’m thinking, or because I’m scared he’ll fall. ‘Do you want to be helped or not?’
‘Do you mean off this wall, or in general?’
He rolls his eyes. I’ve never seen him this huffy. ‘Fine. I’m going down.’
‘When I froze, he said look into his eyes, so I did! That’s all! And he was nice, nicer than you’re being.’
‘I’m not bloody surprised he was nice the way you were pawing him.’
‘I was not pawing!’ I give him my evil eye. ‘Why are you being so nasty?’
He sighs. ‘Honestly? Well I don’t know what’s got into you. You need to chill, be yourself, not pretend to be, to be …’
‘Some seductress?’ It comes out stiff, cold. ‘Every time I’m getting somewhere, doing what you told me to, you say it’s wrong!’ I wish I was in a position to prod him with a finger, to make my point, but I’m not. ‘And it’s not wrong! It’s working! I’m working, people are asking me out!’
‘Just chill, be yourself. Don’t pretend you’re somebody who wants, who wants to be with a jerk who’ll give you the run-around!’
‘But that’s the point! This is not me, I’m not being myself! You made me different. I don’t climb ropes!’ I realise I am glaring at him. ‘You’re never happy, are you? You find fault with everything I do!’
‘No, I don’t! I just don’t want you to date twats who won’t respect you.’
‘Fine, anyway he asked me out,’ I say, smiling smugly, but actually not feeling smug. There’s a hole in my stomach, an emptiness because I don’t want to do this on my own. I want Noah to be happy for me.
‘He what? When, when did he have time—’
‘You’ve been watching us?’
‘I was just checking you were okay. I feel responsible,’ he says stiffly.
‘Noah!’
‘So what did he do, follow you to the toilets or something?’
‘No,’ I sigh, ‘I was stuck up a rope, remember? Your idea? I had a panic attack the first time. I told you I didn’t like heights and he helped me down, then we were kind of looking at each other … and he got me a drink of water and told me to sit down for a minute.’
‘And?’
‘Well then I felt better, and he told me when we tried again to just listen carefully to his voice, and,’ I take a deep breath, ‘I said he had a lovely voice I could listen to all day, which made him laugh. Then he told me about his cat.’
‘His cat?’
‘Yeah and how he’s saving for a house, which is why he’s doing these lessons. It’s not what he normally does. I listened, made it about him like you told me to and you were right! I forgot all about being nervous cos I made it about him.’ I smile, he doesn’t smile back, so I blunder on. ‘Then he asked me out.’
‘Great.’ He rests his head against the wall.
‘Glad you’re pleased for me,’ I say stiffly. ‘I better ask him to rescue me again, get me down.’
‘What’s the big rush, Rosie?’
‘I don’t like it up here. I’m starting to feel weird.’
‘I don’t mean to get down! Dating! Why not take your time?’
‘Oh, Mum and Dad’s party, me, my life, you know. Normal stuff.’ I glare. ‘Old age!’
‘You’re not old.’
‘I will be by the time I get off this bloody wall.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Rosie, don’t mess it all up just for the sake of a party. I can always go with you if you’re desperate.’
‘Gee ta, desperate Rosie. Is that how you see me?’
‘No, you know what I mean. Men like him are the worst, all strong and masterful, holding on to you, saving the poor damsel in distress.’
I laugh. He doesn’t join in. ‘I chatted him up, you dork!’ He still doesn’t laugh. ‘You mean it, don’t you?’
‘Shit. I’m being a jerk, again.’ He stops talking. His steady gaze on mine, then he looks down at the top of the wall. ‘I don’t want you to get hurt. Really. All this seduction stuff, maybe it’s bollocks. You’re great just the way you are, Rosie. You’ll get a guy whatever you do. You don’t need me.’
‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous, of course—’
But he’s gone, sliding down his side of the wall and I’m suddenly scared that he’s gone out of my life as well. I take a deep breath and force myself to look over the top.
‘Noah, Noah, don’t go.’
He looks up. How the hell did he get back down to ground level so quickly? ‘I’m not going far.’ He sighs. ‘Don’t worry, superman Stuart will get you down. I’ll see you in the café by the entrance, okay?’
Phew, at least he thinks I meant ‘don’t go and leave me up a fake wall’, not ‘don’t go and leave me for ever’.
Chapter 18
‘Fuck, no!’ All thoughts of whether I do or don’t need Noah are emptied from my head.
Which is pretty amazing considering by the time I’d managed to get down from the wall, thanked Stuart p
rofusely, arranged a date, and worked out how to walk on terra firma again (I was very wobbly) there was no sign of him. I was pretty sure he’d walked out of my life for good, and then I’d spotted him. Sitting outside the café with his eyes shut.
I felt like crying with relief, but I resisted the urge to skip over at high speed and instead did a rapid saunter (I was too happy to do a normal saunter) and squeaked a ‘hi’.
He opened his eyes and smiled. Then high-fived me and suggested walking back through the park.
Phew. We are okay! Even if we are walking a few more inches apart than we normally do. Which is fine, absolutely fine.
Anyway, my wonderings about whether or not I’ll ever brush arms with Noah again exit my brain abruptly.
That is what shock can do for you. For a moment I fly catch, then realise Noah is squeezing my shoulder. Rather hard.
‘Ouch, stop it.’ I flap him away.
It can’t be. I must be imagining things.
‘Rosie!’ I might also have closed the distance between us, and be leaning in so close to Noah, I’m standing on his foot.
‘Nooooo. It can’t be!’ I peer over his shoulder and squeeze my eyes into a squint. Which is sod all help, apart from adding a film-worthy softness to the surroundings. And out of the blurriness the monster in the blue top keeps coming. It’s like watching a horror film: every second brings the enemy closer.
‘Can’t be what?’ Noah turns and looks, then turns back to me. ‘What’s going on, what’s up?’
‘Will you stop shaking me,’ I say angrily, focussing on him for a moment. To be honest I’ve got a feeling he is working up to slapping my face, and I’m not having that. ‘It’s Gabe.’
‘Who?’ He looks puzzled for a second, then it dawns on him. ‘Oh, Gabe. Christ, really? Where?’ His eyes open a bit wider, and he turns back round to where I’m looking.
‘Over there, the guy with,’ I swallow, ‘a pram.’
‘I can’t … where exactly?’
‘For God’s sake, over there, by the entrance to the park. The one with a fucking big baby-carrying machine!’ I hiss. ‘I’m not exactly going to point.’ Throw a sharp object maybe, but not point. ‘Stop staring, he’ll see you looking.’
Gabe is getting closer and now I can see him quite clearly. At first, I thought, or hoped, it was just somebody similar, that I’d make a mistake, that we’d laugh it off. Once my heart rate returned to normal and I’d stopped hyperventilating.
No mistake. He’s quite distinctive.
‘I really can’t …’
I cannot believe Noah can’t spot him. Okay, he’s never seen the guy (I made sure he only saw the messages) but there isn’t exactly a surfeit of male pram-pushers. ‘Oh, fuck’s sake.’ I mutter under my breath. ‘Forget it, sorry, I’ve got to—’ It’s a split-second decision.
Gabe is heading straight towards us. Him and his bloody children. A baby and a toddler. Any second now he will spot me, and my humiliation will be complete.
I can’t let him catch me staring at him. I can’t. I need time to take this in, to process it. To decide whether kneeing him in the groin in the street will have me carted away for GBH. And whether it will be worth it if I am. At the moment I am leaning towards ‘maybe’ and ‘yes’. Bastard.
I yank Noah round so he is facing me, and put one hand, palm flat on his chest. ‘Sorry, really sorry. Here goes.’ The last bit I mutter to myself.
‘What are you—?’
‘Shush.’ Gabe is close. Any second now he will be right up to us.
I look at Noah and take a deep breath. You can do this, Rosie. You have got to do this. I close my eyes, then open them again – just to check. Gabe is even closer. Any second now I’ll be able to see the colour of his eyes. Shit.
Noah is looking bemused.
Gabe is pushing the pram with one hand, the other arm cradling the cute toddler that’s balanced on his hip. The perfect father.
I stare into Noah’s eyes. For once he’s not grinning. He’s sexy when he’s serious. Looking at me so intently. Even sexier than normal. Gorgeous. Full lips. I run my tongue over my own. This is no hardship. This is fine. I can do it.
His hip nudges mine, any other time I’d pull back, his crotch nestles … oh my God.
I grab his T-shirt and go for it.
For a moment his lips are firm, unyielding, like his firm chest beneath my palm. And then his mouth softens. Oh boy, does it soften. I can’t help myself, I melt into him, close my eyes (which I really need to keep open) and let my hands do what they want to do. Which is move to his shoulders, slide to his neck, allow my fingers to thread their way into his hair.
He smells amazing, he tastes amazing. He’s holding me firmly now, his mouth moving beneath mine. He is taking control and, oh my.
Kissing Robbie was never like this; kissing Robbie didn’t leave me desperate to get even closer, to explore his mouth with my tongue, to groan in an indecent demand for more.
A low wolf-whistle breaks into my consciousness. ‘Well if it isn’t the old devil himself! Still up to your old tricks eh, Noah! Hey, it is Noah, isn’t it, buried under that lovely lady?’ There is a laugh. It’s a bit like a chuckle, but not a proper one, not an earthy one like Noah’s. Oh shit. I keep my eyes closed and think about burying my bright red face in Noah’s chest. Seems like a good idea, so I do, briefly, then surface and look round at him.
Gabe.
In the eye.
He hardly registers me, he’s too busy catching up with his old buddy, Noah.
The baby makes a mewling noise. ‘Shush.’ It cries louder. ‘Sorry, can’t hang about, he doesn’t like it if I stop! But we should get together some time, mate!’ He thumbs up, pats Noah on the arm and is off, walking backwards briefly, then turning to look where he’s going.
I count to ten under my breath, listen as the crying dies away. ‘Mate?! You bloody know that, that, that … man?’
Noah grimaces. ‘Yeah, sure, well slightly. I don’t know him that well. He’s a mate of my sister’s husband. They both work at this PR firm; it’s just down the road from my office.’ He gestures, as though showing me where.
‘His name isn’t Gabe, is it?’ I say weakly as I realise my hands are still on his chest, so I let them drop and take a step back. Concentrate on not touching my swollen, throbbing lips.
‘That was Gabe?’ He stares after the sauntering Gabe, or whatever his bloody name is.
I nod.
‘Your Gabe?’
I nod again. It is not that words are not coming easily. I have plenty of words in my head, but if I open my mouth they will burst out – and they contain a load of abuse and loud screams.
‘I was looking for some other guy with a pram, I never thought you could mean him. Oh no, I don’t …’ He runs his fingers through his hair and stares after the guy. ‘Really? You’re kidding me.’
I shake my head. ‘No, I’m fucking not! And he didn’t even recognise me!’
‘He has only seen your pic on Tin—’ He stops abruptly when I give him my stare. ‘Shit.’ I don’t think this is because I’ve scared him.
‘What do you mean shit?’
‘What do I tell my sister? Gavin’s wife is her friend.’
‘I don’t give a f—’ I break off as what he’s said sinks in. ‘Haha, Gavin?’ I laugh. For some reason the fact that he’s a Gavin not a Gabe is funny. I laugh louder. It’s a hysterical cackle that makes people turn round and stare.
‘Are you all right, love?’ A woman touches my arm.
I nod, but I’m not. I’m so not all right.
‘Is he giving you grief?’ She inclines her head towards Noah.
‘Oh no, no, he’s fine, he’s nice. I kissed him!’ Oh God I kissed him! I lean forward, put my hands on my knees and take a deep breath so that 1. I don’t have to look at Noah, and 2. I can hide my inane grin from both of them. ‘It’s somebody else.’ I glance up at her.
‘You’re sure, duck?’ She gives Noah a hard look then s
idles away, glancing back over her shoulder, not convinced.
‘He’s married!’ I look up at Noah, who nods. ‘He’s got, he’s got, a, a.’ I don’t think I can say the word baby.
Fuck, he’s got kids! The tears prickling my eyelids catch me unawares and for a moment I’m on the verge of blubbing, so I do a bit of swearing under my breath and get a grip.
‘Are you okay?’ Noah looks worried.
‘Don’t look at me like that!’ I croak. Sympathy is a killer. If he keeps on being nice then I’ll crumble. If I stick my nails into the palm of my hand and ground myself with pain, then I’ll be fine. Absolutely fine.
I straighten up. ‘How old is it?’
Noah pulls a funny twisted face. ‘Well …’
‘Go on!’
‘Not very.’
‘As in just popped out?’
He waggles a hand, palm down, the way you do to say ‘more or less’. In this case I’d guess we’re erring on the less rather than more side.
‘His wife was preggers and he was on Tinder!’
Noah nods, he’s gone pale.
‘And he’d have bloody recognised me if I was the only one! He’d have remembered, wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t he?’ I challenge Noah, who nods again. Then shakes his head.
Oh my God. If he’d turned up for our date, if he hadn’t ghosted me, I could have ended up dating a man just like my dad. Exactly the type of man I’d been trying to avoid. And, I gulp, I could have ended up being the other woman.
I feel so tense I could explode. I’m so angry I could kick something. I’m angry at Gabe, and I’m angry at me for falling for his chat online.
And yet he didn’t seem like that. He wasn’t overly charming, he wasn’t flirty. He just seemed nice. Normal.
He just … Oh shit, what did I so nearly do? ‘What’s he doing to his kids, his family?’ I don’t wait for an answer. ‘Dad did that.’ I point wildly in the general direction Gabe has taken. ‘He didn’t give a monkey’s arse about us.’ Okay he probably didn’t go out looking for people on Tinder, but he did take every opportunity he could when he was working. He just did whatever he wanted. Took whatever was offered. In my heart I know he did. Even though at the time in my head I was always giving him excuses.
The First Date Page 19