The A to Z of Us

by Hannah Doyle

  ‘Thank you,’ she beams. ‘I am. But look at you, people pay for the artwork you create. That’s awesome.’

  ‘What’s that? Not teasing me about my art that someone with a piece of A4 paper and sharpie could have done today?’ I laugh as she takes a bite of her bun. ‘Seriously though, thank you. It’s hard to turn creative interests into something to live off but I’m so glad I have a job I love. What got you into flowers?’

  For a brief second, a shadow crosses her face but she dismisses it, taking a sip of her coffee. ‘When I was a kid, my dad would come home with a new bunch of flowers for my mum every Friday night. Sometimes flowers he’d picked from the garden, sometimes a bouquet from a shop. Then we’d gather in the kitchen, arranging them into jam jars and I’d dot them around the house. It was my favourite part of the week.’

  I find myself lost in the image of Alice’s childhood. It sounds like everything I didn’t have.

  ‘I worked part-time at a florist’s while I was at uni and spotted a gap in the market for something more appealing to the younger market. The shop’s become a bit of an Instagram hotspot now because it looks really cute, if I say so myself. We have rows of flowers in old wooden crates on display outside, under a green and white-striped awning. Inside there’s a neon sign against one wall which customers love to take pictures next to, a mesh wall stuffed with our latest arrangements and a massive oak table at the back which we use to wrap up bouquets. I found it at an antiques shop in town. People come to me from all over Sheffield just to buy a bunch and take photos of the shop floor. We’ve got a big online following and I get commissions from all around Yorkshire.’

  ‘It’s amazing you’ve built up the business like that.’

  She smiles proudly. ‘It’s been hard work. I bet you can relate to that?’

  ‘God yes,’ I laugh. ‘When I finished uni I quickly realised that no one was going to pay a total unknown for his art so I took a job in a coffee shop, working as many shifts as I could and spending every spare hour painting in a corner of the bedroom I rented off a friend. The light in there was shocking! I spent a lot of time worrying that I’d never become a real artist, that I’d have to give up the dream and get a “proper job”, but I was really lucky because a local art gallery decided to run an exhibition of up and coming talent and that was my big break, really. I started getting commissions and one thing led to another. It felt like a long slog but I’m so happy to be able to rent my own studio space now.’

  ‘And you’ve just had your own exhibition! I love that,’ grins Alice.

  ‘And I’m no longer inflicting my coffee-making skills on the people of Sheffield, so it really is win win.’

  ‘It’s a steep learning curve, isn’t it?’ she says. ‘I mean, I had no idea about the business side of things when I started out, but it’s also super rewarding. Sometimes I feel like I have so many ideas of where I’d like to take it next that I’m actually going to burst.’

  ‘Well, please don’t burst just yet. I’m having way too much fun.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I am strictly off duty for our date.’

  ‘In that case I consider myself extremely lucky. You’re right, by the way.’

  ‘Oh?’ She says, her fingers curling playfully around her coffee cup.

  ‘The apricot tart is a winner.’

  She laughs then, taking a bite out of her cinnamon bun.

  ‘Dunno, these are pretty good too. You have excellent taste in pastries, Zach.’

  Normally I struggle chatting to new people but not with Alice. We’ve already spent a couple of easy hours together and I’m keen to carry on but when one of the staff starts clearing our table around us, I have to admit defeat.

  ‘I had fun,’ she says, her eyes turning up to me as we leave. ‘And I’m excited for this Scandi crime. Though I’m worried it might give me lots of ideas for Nat’s ex-boyfriend’s brutal demise.’

  ‘Just to be clear, you’re not actually a murderer, are you?’

  ‘Just to be clear, you’re not actually an avid Point Romance reader, are you?’ She bats back and I turn to face her as we wait at the bus stop.

  ‘I can’t help being an old romantic.’

  Just kiss her! I tell myself.

  ‘I’ll let you into a secret,’ she whispers. ‘I’m not actually a murderer. I do, however, harbour grudges on behalf of the people I love.’

  ‘Well then, I intend to do nothing which could encourage such grudge-harbouring on our next date.’

  ‘You’re assuming there’s going to be another one?’

  ‘I’m hoping there will be.’

  There’s a very long pause and I feel that familiar sense of dread rising in the pit of my stomach. Maybe I’ve imagined it and it hasn’t gone as well as I thought. Maybe Alice hasn’t had a good time and was just waiting until she could leave. Now would be the perfect time to kiss her but what if she’s about to friendzone me?

  ‘You’d better leave me to arrange a C date,’ she smiles.

  Relief washes over me. We’re on for another date. What a bloody result! I’m so happy she wants to do this again.

  Alice is looking deep into my eyes now and I don’t need any further cues.

  This is the moment to kiss her. Be confident and go for it, I tell myself. I lean down to do what I’ve wanted to do since we met, to feel her lips against mine. As my face draws closer I can smell the apples of her shampoo mixing with cinnamon. When our faces are almost touching I pause, wanting to savour the moment, training my eyes back on hers.

  But, wait, she’s not actually looking at me at all.

  She’s looking over my shoulder. I follow her gaze and spot the bus pulling up next to us, its doors opening by my side.

  Argh.

  I’m attempting to style it out when her eyes really do meet mine. ‘On time for once,’ she says with a tut as I straighten up, trying not to look like I was just about to make out with the side of her face. God.

  ‘Are you getting on or not?’ booms the driver.

  ‘I’d better …’ she says, motioning towards the open doors.

  ‘Yep,’ I say, holding my palm up for a high five.

  A high five. I’ve gone from a missed kiss to a high five faster than a sports car goes from zero to ninety. As the bus pulls away I give the curb a sullen kick, lamenting the unbelievably not-smooth end to our date.

  Comedy Show

  Alice

  As usual, my stomach is rumbling long before it’s acceptable to start eating lunch. Friday mornings are extra busy in the shop as our customers stock up on fresh flowers ahead of the weekend. I love to see their delighted faces when we hand over expertly arranged seasonal bouquets, but even that hasn’t stopped me thinking about the halloumi salad I prepped first thing.

  EAT ME, ALICE!

  Stop talking to me, food!

  ‘Uh oh, is your lunch calling to you again?’ Eve asks from her spot by the till. ‘You’ve got that borderline hangry look on your face. I’m more than happy to hold the fort if you want an early lunch break?’

  ‘You’re an angel,’ I say, so grateful I could kiss her though I’m pretty sure that would be overstepping the employer/employee boundaries. I congratulate myself daily on hiring Eve. She’s brilliant with the customers and is much better at maths than me which comes in very handy with things like, you know, running a business. Pottering into our little kitchen to make a cup of herbal tea, I grab my lunchbox from the fridge and head into the courtyard out back. The sun is peeking through the clouds and I’m about to dive head-first into lunch when my phone rudely interrupts me with a message.

  ALICE! Very excited to see you tonight. Shall we do drinks after the show?

  DYLAN! I tap back. Yes please. I want to make the most of you while you’re back because it doesn’t happen very often.

  Pointed as ever, Pickle. But I know. I miss home a lot.

  Yes, it must be so very tough being famous and living in London now. Don’t forget I’ve seen the size of your
duplex.

  And you haven’t stopped taking the piss out of my wine fridge since.

  Let’s not forget the jacuzzi bath, the glass stairway. I could go on … I type with a grin. The fact that one of my closest friends now lives in such luxury will never fail to amaze me.

  Which is exactly why I’m coming home to see you this time. Me and my flat can’t take any more criticism.

  I’m proud of you really. But also, bullshit! You’re coming back for a gig because real people have paid to watch you make jokes. Are you staying with your folks?

  Yep, got back earlier and Mum’s gone into overdrive.

  Give her a squeeze from me? How long are you back for?

  Just the weekend. I start filming again on Monday.

  FFS.

  Sorry Pickle.

  Will they be rolling out the red carpet for you tonight?

  HAR HAR. I can ask them to roll one out for my special guest though. You want a plus one?

  Yes please.

  How is Natalie?

  She’s okay, not great. It’s a long story. The ticket’s not for Natalie though. I’m bringing a guy. DO NOT BE CRINGE ABOUT IT.

  My screen informs me that Dylan is typing, shortly followed by cheesy GIFs of teddy bears holding hands and rabbits shooting carrots through love hearts. I knew this would happen.

  Have you finished?

  A love interest?

  Don’t mention the “l” word! Bloody hell.

  All right! Tell me more …

  He’s called Zach, he’s an artist.

  Do you want him to paint you like one of his French girls?

  Hope the jokes are going to be better tonight. See you later!

  I’m about to exit the chat when I panic and hastily add: Please don’t turn it into a big deal. Repeat after me … NBD. It’s really early days and I’m not sure where we stand.

  Leadmill at 8 p.m., types Dylan. No Big Deal’s on the guest list.

  As I pop my phone away and start munching, I mull over where things do stand with Zach. I’d sworn there were sparks throughout our last date and really thought we’d end it with a kiss, so the awkward high five was kind of a let-down. I’m usually pretty good at reading people but maybe this time I’ve misread the signs and let’s face it, I am no pro in the dating department. Perhaps Zach is just one of those super-hot guys who flirts with everyone? I dip the herbal tea bag in and out of the hot water in my mug absent-mindedly. I guess it would be simpler if Zach just wanted to be mates, though I feel strangely disappointed by the idea.

  Throngs of people mill about close to the venue, that familiar hum of anticipation growing louder by the minute as I’m waiting to meet Zach for our third date. Or just-friends hang-out … whatever.

  ‘Hi,’ Zach says confidently as he appears next to me.

  ‘Hi!’ I smile back. I’ve never known Zach to wear anything other than dark, loose-fitting T-shirts with rolled-up sleeves but tonight he’s pulled on a lightweight jumper which falls perfectly on his shoulders. I can see the definition of his lean body underneath. His wild hair’s been pushed back and tortoiseshell glasses frame his face. Even if we are just going to end up as friends, there’s no harm in him being so handsome. A friend can definitely think their friend is good-looking amiright?

  ‘It’s so busy here tonight, how did you manage to get tickets? I’d heard it sold out within hours.’

  ‘I have a confession, I know the comedian,’ I say as we weave our way to pick up our tickets. ‘He’s my best friend, we grew up together. He’s not back that often now but the timing seemed perfect … comedy night for our C date and we can all hang out after the show.’

  ‘You’re friends with Dylan Smith?’

  ‘Yes and he’s very lucky to have me.’

  ‘No doubt. Whenever I stay at my brother’s house we always end up watching his TV show. My sister-in-law Ellie thinks he’s hilarious and, I suspect, has a massive crush on him too.’

  I laugh. ‘Don’t mention that to Dylan, he’s got a big enough head already!’

  Zach and I are sat close to the stage and he’s howling with laughter as Dylan makes jokes about the realities of being a Yorkshireman in London. I’m so proud of him though it’s always a bit weird seeing the boy who used to come around to my house to raid the Mini Milks in the freezer on stage as one of the hottest comedians around.

  As Zach reaches out to grab his drink I feel his hand accidentally graze mine. My fingers tingle in response and I’m convinced that sparks are flying again, which sends my brain into a sudden tailspin. I think there’s chemistry but does he like me back? And why do I want him to when I know that tiny sparks can lead to big fires which hurt people? Oh my god, I need to chill out. It is not like me to overthink things. Turning my attention back to the stage, I focus on watching Dylan’s friendly face make people laugh and I stand up along with everyone else as his set draws to a close, the venue filling with applause.

  ‘What did you think?’ I ask Zach over the din.

  ‘He’s really funny,’ he smiles back at me. ‘Plus I love live comedy, so that was a good shout for our C date …’

  ‘Great!’

  ‘Listen … Alice, I was wondering if you fancied … grabbing … just the—’

  I can’t hear what he’s saying, it’s that loud in here, but I feel my phone vibrating so I pull it out of my pocket, smiling apologetically at Zach for having interrupted him. ‘I’ve just got a text from Dylan,’ I shout, pointing at my phone and then back to the now-empty stage in a kind of sign language. ‘He says do we want to go grab drinks at Public. DRINKS.’ I throw back an imaginary shot. Zach frowns so I motion for us to head outside.

  ‘Dylan’s suggesting drinks.’ I say when it’s quieter. ‘Is that ok with you? Sorry, what were you saying in there?’

  ‘No, I was just chatting rubbish. Yeah, if you want to go for drinks with Dylan let’s do that.’

  The streets are full of people spilling out of pubs and bars to make the most of the warm early summer air.

  ‘It feels like I’m on holiday,’ I say as we make our way to the bar.

  ‘I was thinking the same thing,’ Zach replies.

  ‘It’s amazing how Sheffield can do that. I love this city.’

  ‘Ah, it’s being in your company that does it for me.’

  Oh that’s cute. That’s definitely not something a guy says to you when he just wants to be mates, right?! We’ve reached the bar now and I turn to face Zach, the questions ricocheting around my mind coming to a stop when our eyes lock. Slowly, he reaches an arm around my back and I step closer, neither of us losing eye contact as I rest one hand on his chest.

  This is definitely a kiss moment.

  My heart starts to race and warmth pools at my back where Zach’s fingers have found a tiny patch of skin between my top and my jeans. The feel of his touch on my bare skin is electric. He leans down ever so slowly and I tip my head up to meet his.

  ‘PICKLE!’

  The shout comes from across the street, causing us to pull apart. It’s Dylan, striding towards us.

  FFS Dylan.

  ‘Oops, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.’ He winks at me as he realises what he’s just gate-crashed.

  ‘Pickle?’ Zach says, eyebrows raised.

  Bloody hell.

  ‘He’s called me that forever,’ I explain. ‘Zach, this is my deeply annoying friend Dylan. Dylan, this is Zach.’

  Trust Dylan to suggest a former underground toilet for post-gig drinks, I think, grinning to myself as we wait outside. I’m sure you usually need to reserve a table here because it’s pretty small but by some miracle we’re sat down and perusing the cocktail menu within minutes.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt,’ a gorgeous woman approaches our table. ‘I was just wondering if you two are together?’ I’m sandwiched between Dylan and Zach on a small sofa and I realise that it’s Dylan who has his arm draped behind my back.

  ‘Oh, no,’ I reply hastily.

  ‘Just go
od friends,’ Dylan grins, scribbling his number on a piece of paper he finds in his wallet and handing it to her before she walks off. Dylan is one randy doggo.

  ‘Dylan has his own fan club,’ I explain, rolling my eyes at Zach. ‘The Twitter handle is something like HeckYeahDylanSmith and I occasionally send screengrabs of it over to him. Some of the chat is obscene.’

  Zach smiles as he listens but I can sense that Dylan’s territorial behaviour has annoyed him. Every now and then his eyes dart towards Dylan’s arm around me and I think back to the woman who just came over, inwardly cringing. I guess it’s a bit awkward that I got mistaken for Dylan’s date, rather than Zach’s. I lean back, trying to surreptitiously nudge Dylan’s arm out of the way and scoot closer to Zach, but there’s not much room for scooting on our little sofa. Plus Dylan has insisted on sitting with his legs spread wide as per usual.

  ‘Never mind my fan club,’ Dylan says, ignoring my nudges and reaching his arm even further round my shoulder. He’s never been great at reading a scene. ‘Tell me what’s going on with Natalie?’

  ‘Urgh, Jake is an absolute fool,’ I say with a shake of my head. ‘Turns out he was seeing someone else behind her back for a while before he ended it and it’s all been unravelling over the past few months. I’m trying to take her mind off the split but every time we seem to make progress he gets back in touch and she can’t resist. It’s like she’s deliberately hurting herself by meeting up and listening to him explain every single detail of what happened.’

  Zach leans forward, resting his arms on his knees. ‘Sometimes break-ups are like that. Sometimes you want answers to questions. And sometimes you surprise yourself by realising that something you thought was huge was actually nothing at all.’

  My attention turns straight back to Zach and I have to say, I admire him. Here we are talking about someone he doesn’t know and he’s still making an effort, joining in with the conversation with his own personal experiences.

  ‘Definitely agree there, mate,’ Dylan replies. ‘I had a bad break-up once, I didn’t want it to end and it was like: “Why am I not good enough for you?” Maybe Nat could do with some time away? I could ask if she wants to come and stay with me for a bit. You’re both always welcome and a change of scene might be good. What do you think?’