by Hannah Doyle
Besides, I think it’s working. He seemed lost in thought when we met and that cloud has lifted since we took up residence on the floor in the middle of the venue.
‘Papier-mâché truly is an understated art form,’ I point out, legs crossed under me, hands covered in gloop. ‘Who’d have thought I’d be fashioning a papier-mâché moon at an art exhibition with the artist himself when I left the house earlier. I love how evenings turn out sometimes.’
‘That’s meant to be a moon? Looks a bit phallic,’ Zach says, eyebrow raised.
‘How dare you.’
‘So Alice, what brought you here tonight if you’re not into my work? I noticed you taking pictures of the plants over by the loos earlier and I couldn’t quite figure out why.’
Embarrassing. But also nice to know he’d been looking over at me.
‘I did not come for the loos, if that’s what you were wondering,’ I chuckle. ‘That was just me taking a picture for Instagram. I actually came along to support my friend Natalie. She works for the events company who organised tonight.’
Zach nods. ‘She did a great job, I must email her to say thanks. The venue, the food … did you try those tiny tacos?’ His soulful eyes widen in appreciation.
‘I loved those tiny tacos! She had to leave early for a personal emergency but I’m sure she’d really appreciate your email.’
‘Is she ok?’
‘Yeah, she’s just got some stuff going on. A case of ex-boyfriend dickheaditis.’
‘Ah I’ve heard that’s quite common. I’m sure she’ll make a full recovery.’
‘I hope so. I’ve prescribed a lot of time wallowing while watching sad films on Netflix. I was hoping tonight might kick-start a new chapter for her but, I don’t know … Breaking up with people sucks, apparently.’
‘Apparently?’ He repeats, rubbing his jawline.
‘I haven’t done much of it myself.’
‘Ah, so you’re the heartbreaker?’
‘Um, I don’t think so.’
‘So you’re one of these smug settled types with a long-term boyfriend and no relationship drama?’
I shake my head. ‘No, not smugly settled down.’
‘You haven’t found The One yet?’
‘That’s a very personal question, Zach. Can I let you into a secret? I’m not convinced The One exists,’ I whisper.
‘And why’s that?’ he whispers back, his brows furrowed as he looks at my quizzically.
‘I guess I just feel like my job and my friends are enough. I’m happy, you know? Right now my best friend can’t even find the lid to her lipstick, and let me tell you that she is normally incredibly organised, and that’s all because she’s had her heart broken. I guess that’s just a reminder that love is hard.’ I pause, realising that if I don’t get down from my soapbox soon this handsome man might run off before I’ve had the chance to enjoy his company a little longer. ‘I’m a bit of a cynic when it comes to all that,’ I add with a shrug.
‘So you’ve sworn off love because it might cause havoc with your make-up?’ When Zach smiles his eyes crease, ramping up that ruggedly handsome thing he’s got going on.
I feel the thrill of anticipation shoot through me. ‘You know what I mean!’
He’d been sitting with his legs kicked out in front of him, leaning back on his arms, but now he shifts to mirror me.
‘Well, I hear what you’re saying,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘But I’m more the “I love love” type. There’s nothing like that feeling of connection, of adventure, of finding another person who you can’t get enough of. It’s … it’s the whole point, really.’
His eyes light up as he talks and for a split second, the passion and intensity in his voice makes me wonder if he’s actually right. Then I remember that he is categorically not. We couldn’t be more different and yet for some reason I want to stay right here in his company, all night long. And that’s when I remember my trump card.
‘I don’t think I’ve met a woman who carries a pack of Uno around with her at all times before,’ Zach laughs as I fold my arms in mock-protest. We’re five rounds in and I am not winning.
‘I can’t believe this. I’m usually the champion of all Uno players ever.’
‘The score speaks for itself,’ Zach grins. ‘Four wins for me. Does that make me the champion of all Uno players ever?’
He’s a tease and he has a competitive streak? I congratulate myself on suggesting a card game before we called it a night. We play some more, me getting increasingly competitive as his winning streak continues.
‘Lady luck is shining on you tonight,’ I say as he calls out ‘Uno’ again.
Zach looks up from his cards, his eyes locking onto mine.
‘I am very much inclined to agree with you,’ he says after a pause. ‘How can I say this without it sounding awful? I’m very sorry that your friend is having a hard time but I’m also … quite pleased?’
I drop my own cards. ‘What? Don’t make me add you to my hit list, Zach.’
‘You have a hit list?’
‘Yes I do. Natalie’s ex-boyfriend is the only one on there … for now.’
‘Okay, I get it. Don’t mess with Alice’s friends. I’ll make a mental note of that for next time. Look, I don’t know about you but tonight has been exactly what I needed. I’ve had a lot of fun.’ Our eyes move over to the papier-mâché penis/moon now discarded on the floor next to us and he bites back another laugh. ‘Thank you for my art lesson. I will keep it all in mind when I’m back in the studio. As non-dates go, this has been a good one. And, well … I’m wondering if you’d like to do it again some time?’
‘Are you saying you’d like another art lesson?’
‘How about a proper date?’ He suggests. ‘The things is, I’ve been thinking about my chance meeting with Alice at the art exhibition tonight. How our names bookend the alphabet. So maybe we should do something beginning with B next time, work our way through the alphabet …’
Alice and Zach. He’s right. I feel my cheeks flushing as I’m struck by his thoughtfulness. I don’t think anybody has asked me out quite like that before. Usually it’s the offer of a drink down at the pub, or maybe a dinner, though I generally avoid dinner for a first date because what if I realise my date is awful before I’ve even made my order and then we have to endure an ENTIRE MEAL of awkwardness.
Zach’s watching me, looking adorably expectant and hopeful in equal measure, and it dawns on me that there have been no why-did-I-order-a-starter regrets here, tonight. He’s right. As non-dates go, this has been perfect.
‘Did you just invite me on twenty-six dates?’ I finally manage. ‘Because that’s quite keen.’
‘I am keen,’ he says, more confidently now.
WOW. This guy is cute. I’ve had way more fun than I expected tonight and it would be fun to do this again. I mean, there’s no way we’ll make it to the twenty-sixth date, because of my strict three date maximum policy, but one or two more chances to hang out with Zach could be a lot of fun.
‘Let’s stick with one for now,’ I reply, taking a sip of my drink to cool myself down. ‘But it will have to be good for us to get to C.’
‘I’ll take my chances. And if we do get to C then you have to choose a date, so the pressure will be on you.’ One side of his mouth is curving into a sexy-as-hell smile.
Right then my phone beeps, forcing me to break eye contact.
Back at yours. Jake’s seeing someone else. I hate everything.
I frown. ‘It’s Natalie. She needs me. I’m going to have to go.’
‘I hope she’s okay,’ he says, the genuine concern in his voice drawing me to him even more.
‘Well, it’s been a pleasure to meet you, Zach.’
‘You too,’ he replies, pressing a business card into my hand. Now that we’re both standing, I notice that Zach is a good foot taller than me. He leans down, stubble brushing my skin as he drops a goodbye kiss on my cheek.
‘See you at B,’ h
e says, voice low, breath hot against my face.
As I walk towards the bus stop, I turn the business card over in my hand.
He’s scribbled on the back.
‘A-Z. Call me.’
Bookshop
Zach
One wrong move can make the difference between a piece of art I’m proud of and something that gets booted over towards the bin in my studio. One bad stroke of the paintbrush can write off a week or a month’s hard work. It’s as simple as that. And then there’s the opposite, when everything seems to turn on a pinpoint because of one right move.
That’s exactly how I feel about the day Alice danced into my life.
I’d been incredibly anxious before the exhibition that night, battling imposter syndrome and a whole load of other crap too. And then right when I’d least expected it, along came this beautiful woman dressed in bright yellow. Alice was like a sunbeam breaking through the clouds and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since.
Now she’s walking towards me, the fabric of her blue dress blowing in the light summer breeze. A confident smile spreads across her face and she peers up at the bookshop I’m standing outside.
‘So you didn’t go for bondage then?’ Alice jokes, disarming me with a sentence just like last time.
‘Bondage?’ I cough, looking apologetically at a couple of shoppers walking past us.
‘Our A to Z theme! B for bondage?’
‘Thought it might be a bit much for a second date? Though we can always change our minds?’ I suggest, recovering myself with what I hope is a playful wink.
‘You’ve missed your chance now,’ she teases, her cheeks going a pretty shade of pink.
‘You look really nice,’ I say.
Nice? Come on, Zach! You could have chosen something better than nice.
‘Thank you. It’s good to see you again,’ Alice stands on her tiptoes to kiss me on the cheek. Her hair’s tucked behind a pink hairband and she smells like green apples. ‘So, what are we doing at a bookshop?’
‘I was in here the day after you and I met,’ I explain. ‘I’d come in to pick up a book on pop art and decided to stop at the bookshop’s café to read it. But about half an hour later I realised I spent most of the time ignoring the book and thinking about you.’
‘You smooth-talker!’
‘I promise it’s true. I had a lot of fun that night.’ I sneak a look at her and see that she’s smiling at me. ‘And … you said something about fresh chapters which really resonated with me.’
‘Oh? You mean when I was telling you about Natalie and her ex-boyfriend issues?’
‘It reminded me that even when things aren’t necessarily going to plan, you can always turn the page and start a new chapter. So here I was, trying to get some research done and failing spectacularly because I couldn’t stop thinking about you, when it dawned on me that this bookshop could be perfect for our first proper date. We could browse the books, pick one for each other to read and … maybe start our own new story?’
That sounded cheesy didn’t it?
Alice is leaning against the bookshop’s window, watching me with her mouth slightly open.
The nerves kick back in and I make a show of shrugging the idea off.
‘Yeah, no, it’s a lame idea. We could do something else instead? Bowling? Bird-watching? Obviously not bird-watching, that’s even worse.’
What the hell? I’m babbling now.
After a painfully long pause, Alice playfully bumps her shoulder into mine then says, ‘You can’t stop thinking about me, huh?’
Sometimes I worry that I’m too much of an open book. Growing up, all my friends operated on a ‘treat them mean, keep them keen’ policy but I was never good at playing games in relationships because I will always wear my heart on my sleeve. It’s not exactly worked out well for me and maybe I should learn to play it cooler but Alice has been on my mind. Although now I’ve said that out loud I’m feeling embarrassed. ‘Also, the cinnamon buns in the café here are ridiculously good,’ I add.
She laughs.
‘I see your buns and raise you the apricot tarts. Have you tried one? They should be made illegal. I’d actually banned myself from coming here because I was using “flower research” as a shameless cover for my developing pastry habit. You’re leading me astray today, Zach.’
Now that I can handle. Grinning, I take her hand and we head inside.
Right, I really need to improve my date chat and just relax. So far I’ve asked her if she reads much and cringed hard at myself for sounding like I’ve just googled ‘questions to ask on a date’. Seeing Alice again has got me tied up with nerves and I try to remember a technique I’ve learned through running. It’s pretty much just breathing, so perhaps calling it a technique is a bit much, but if I focus on that simple task I might stop talking crap and start being cool again. Or at least just be able to chill out enough to enjoy myself.
Luckily Alice appears to be undaunted by my shit chat. ‘Reading is one of my favourite ways to wind down so a bookshop is the perfect date for me.’
‘Good to hear. And after such a strong start, it looks like we are on track to make date three, then.’ That’s better! Flirty. I’ve got this.
‘Well, don’t get ahead of yourself, Zach,’ she grins, letting me know that she’s joking. Or at least I think she is. I’m struck with the impression that Alice has got the measure of me already. I do have a tendency to rush into things at a hundred miles an hour.
Alice is still chuckling about the fact that we’ve gone shopping for books on our second date when I pause by a display of Japanese literature.
‘I think I’m choosing this one for you,’ I say, handing it to her.
Alice takes the book from my hands and flips it over to read the back page. ‘It says it’s “a gripping tale of sixteenth century missionaries in Japan” Zach.’ She turns to look at me, amusement etched across her face. ‘I mean, come on! The word gripping sounds a bit misleading there.’
‘It was very good, actually. If a little long,’ I concede.
Alice flicks through. ‘Over six hundred pages! I’d say that was six hundred pages too many on the topic of missionaries in Japan, no? Are you seriously telling me that this is what you read when you want to relax?’
Disarmed once again. At least let me pretend to be deep and interesting, Alice!
‘All right,’ I laugh. ‘I do also read a lot of Scandinavian crime stories. The type of book where someone inevitably ends up dead in a bath in a beautiful fishing village in Sweden.’
She rubs her hands together. ‘That’s more like it! I was really getting into true crime documentaries before Nat moved in but she’s not a fan.’
‘Seriously? I’m into true crime too.’ We lock eyes and I feel a spark of connection as we find common ground. ‘Come with me.’ I weave my fingers into hers as we make our way through the shop to the crime section, feeling like a teenager with my first crush all over again.
Having established that Alice’s preferences lean towards the gorier, the better, I select the most gruesome book I can find while she deliberates what to pick for me. She has this endearing habit of chatting away, making me feel like we’re floating along on a cloud of easy conversation. I guess it’s a confidence thing. I’m constantly worried that I’ll say something ridiculous whereas Alice seems so easy-going and free of insecurities.
‘At first my mind went straight to Sweet Valley High,’ she’s saying. ‘I devoured those books when I was younger, along with every Point Horror I could get my hands on. But I figured they would not be cool enough for Zach the artist …’
Her breezy confidence must be infectious because I find myself leaning in conspiratorially. ‘I’m not so sure about that. If you ever tell anyone this, I will strongly deny it because I’ve a reputation to uphold …’
‘Oh? Tell me! I’m quite good at keeping secrets.’
‘How good?’
‘Very good,’ she bites her lip. I’m no
t sure she’s telling the truth.
‘I used to read Point Romances when I was younger,’ I whisper.
Alice has bubbled over with glee. Her whole face radiates amusement and now I know exactly why I felt compelled to tell this beautiful girl one of my most embarrassing facts. Just seeing her laugh makes me feel good.
‘What?! You read Point Romance?’
‘Maybe one or two.’ (At least a dozen).
‘I am shook,’ she says. And then, more quietly, almost to herself, ‘You really are into love, huh.’
Will that put her off me, I wonder? She’s a self-proclaimed cynic when it comes to ‘The One’ and I’m a closet romance reader. Thankfully I don’t get the chance to dwell on it because whirlwind Alice has already moved on, bouncing us along to the contemporary fiction aisle to make her own selection.
Not wanting our date to end, I’d asked Alice if I could persuade her to ditch her pastry ban and now we’re sat in the café area chatting away, our new purchases on the table. Alice is busy recounting an ongoing argument she’s been having with the pigeon in her garden – ‘I call it the Big Shitter because it keeps pooing on the washing line and our tumble dryer has broken …’ – and I’m trying hard not to smile. Listening to her talk is like watching champagne being poured into a glass. Even a story about a shitting pigeon is made effervescent by Alice who fizzes her way through conversations with a carefree energy.
‘It’s not funny, Zach! I spent an hour with a new client before I noticed that I had bird poo on my shoulder.’
‘Tell me more about being a florist,’ I say, watching her eyes light up as she talks about her business.
‘I set my own shop up in my twenties and it’s been pretty intense ever since. I’m up early every morning and often work after the shop has shut for the day dealing with order enquiries. I just feel really lucky that I’ve managed to turn a passion into a career.’
‘It sounds like you’re being incredibly modest. It takes a lot of hard work to start your own successful business. You should be proud of yourself.’