Two Last First Dates

by Kate O'Keeffe

  “How are we going to deal with the fact you went on a date with that guy Marcus?” Marissa said.

  “We could reset the pact?” Bailey suggested.

  Marissa shook her head. “We’ve already done that. And besides, there’s a limit to how many times we can huddle around a beach bonfire and make pacts together. I mean, we’re grown women, after all.”

  “Maybe the fact Paige went out with him without our consent renders the date null and void,” Bailey said.

  Marissa tapped her finger on her chin. “Yeah, I like that idea. We all agreed we’d find her the right guy, Marcus isn’t the right guy, so the date meant nothing.” She sat back, satisfied she’d solved the dilemma before her.

  “Done.” Bailey nodded, smiling at me. “Here.” She picked up the folder and paper I had all but forgotten in the “Josh is my Last First Date” bombshell, slid the paper inside, and handed it to me. “In this dossier, you’ll find everything we know about him: his family, his friends, right through to what he likes on his toast.”

  “Okay.” I looked down at the folder. I bit my lip. This was not turning out the way I’d expected it.

  “This is so amazing, isn’t it? I mean, you already know him and like him, you already go running together. It’s perfect. Are you pumped?” Marissa asked, totally missing the fact I was in deep like with Marcus and hadn’t even given Josh a second thought.

  I spread my palms on the table. The fog had finally lifted, and I knew what I had to do. “Not . . . exactly. I know you’ve done all this work, and you clearly think Josh is a great guy—”

  “And perfect for you,” Bailey interjected.

  “All right. You think he’s perfect for me. The thing is, I like Marcus. He came in here to ask me out again just today. And I’m going.” I locked my jaw and held my breath. What were they going to say?

  After a pause, Bailey launched into what I knew would be her best attempt to get me to change my mind. “He’s not the right guy for you, Paige. Trust me. Please?”

  I shook my head.

  She persisted. “Do you remember how you said you were horrible at choosing the right men?”

  I bit my lip, wishing I didn’t remember. “But that was before—”

  Bailey raised her eyebrows. “Before you chose Marcus?”

  I gave a reluctant nod. “He’s the right guy for me. He’s kind, he’s sweet, he’s funny, he’s made it clear he’s interested in me, he’s really—”

  Marissa interrupted me with, “How do you know Josh isn’t interested in you?”

  “He’s not!” I said in exasperation. “You’ll just have to trust me on that.” I pushed my chair out from the table and stood up, slipping my purse over my shoulder. “Thank you both for going to the effort to do this for me.” I gestured at the folder, lying on the table. “But Josh is not the right guy for me.”

  “Paige, come on,” Bailey said. She picked up the folder and handed it to me.

  I took it from her absentmindedly, shaking my head, warmth creeping up my neck. “No. I’m going out with Marcus.”

  And with that I turned on my heel and walked away. I was determined I knew who was right for me, and there was nothing Marissa or Bailey, or anyone else for that matter, could say to me that would change my mind.

  Chapter 14

  IT WAS HARD TO think of anything else for the rest of that week, so I welcomed the chance to take a break from the mental treadmill for more than half an hour when I met with the recruiter for the Email Marketing Assistant role I’d applied for.

  She was a woman called Madison “you can call me Madi with an i” O’Donnell, who looked about half my age—which of course she wasn’t, as that would make her fourteen and we have laws against child labor in this country. She was, however, possibly the most enthusiastic person I’ve ever met in my entire life.

  “Oh, my god. You are super, super perfect for this role, Paigey! Can I call you Paigey?” she said, flicking through my CV in her company’s offices in downtown Auckland.

  “Sure.” Ah, no.

  “They are going to L. O. V. E. love you over there at Nettco Electricity, really they are.” Her voice was loud, it was high, it was shrill. Suddenly, I regretted not bringing earplugs with me.

  I smiled at her, feeling about one hundred years old. How did she get so perky? And how could she be so overwhelmingly excited about a job in email marketing at a company that sold electricity? “That’s great.”

  “Oh, it is, Paigey, it is! Now, I see you have a degree in . . .” She scanned the page.

  “Marketing,” I confirmed.

  “Yes! Marketing. Good for you! You go, girl! Which is perfect, because they want a marketing assistant!” She grinned at me, her hands palm up, as though this was some crazy cosmic coincidence and nothing to do with the fact I needed the degree in marketing to have become a marketing professional in the first place.

  “Great.”

  Where did they find this woman?

  “So.” She pasted on a serious “let’s get down to business” face. She now looked like she could be fourteen and a half. “We need to talk about the role. Even though I just know you’ll be super awesome in it, I need to ensure that You. Are. The. Best. Possible. Fit.” She punctuated each word by stabbing her index finger on the table in front of her before breaking into a broad smile.

  She sure was one goofy gal.

  “Of course. Well, let me tell you about the campaigns I was involved in at AGD. When we launched the new fiber package last year, I was instrumental in—” I halted when I noticed Madi shaking her head, her glossy lips pursed together into a thin line.

  “Uh-ah. That’s not what I want to hear about,” she trilled.

  “It’s not?”

  “No way. What I want to hear about is you. What do you like? What do you love? I want to hear your passions, what excites you, what makes Paigey Mills tick.”

  “Ah, it’s ‘Miller,’ not ‘Mills.’”

  She slapped her hands down on the table, making my jump. “Whatever. My point is not what you’ve done, it’s who you are. That’s what I’m interested in. I can read all about what you’ve done in here.” She brandished my CV at me before slapping it back onto the table. “That’s what’s going to make me decide whether to send you to meet those amazing people over at Nettco Electricity. So”—she leaned back in her chair—“tell me about Paigey.”

  I cleared my throat. It had become obvious to me I needed to turn up my inner cheerleader several notches to get across the line with Madi with an i. I knew I could do it, I could meet the challenge. I was a positive person by nature. I’m not proud, but I launched into all the things that made me happy, a long list, including my family and friends, beach bonfires (not the pact), and even my newfound love—okay, mild like—of running.

  Madi nodded along, looking singularly unimpressed, despite what I thought was my over-the-top enthusiasm.

  “And baking. I especially love to bake.”

  Madi sat forward in her chair. “Ooh, what do you bake?”

  That got her attention.

  “Cakes, mainly, but also muffins and cookies. I’ve been doing it for years at home, and now I’m helping my friend out by baking at her café, as well as waitressing. It’s fun.” I smiled my first genuine smile of the meeting.

  “Which one?”

  “The Cozy Cottage Café. Do you know it?”

  “Know it? I love it!” Madi exclaimed.

  Of course, she did.

  “I had a slice of white chocolate cheesecake there yesterday. It was out of this world good.”

  “Was it white chocolate and raspberry?”

  She nodded. “Oh yes, that’s the one. I forgot about those little raspberries. Delish!”

  I grinned. “I baked that.”

  And from there it was plain sailing. Madi decided on the spot to put me forward for the interview, even calling her contact at Nettco while I sat opposite her, telling them what an out-of-this-world candidate I was and how t
hey simply had to meet with me immediately. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t stroke my ego, making me feel pretty darn special.

  By the end of the meeting, Madi pulled me in for a hug, promised me she’d stop by the café for more of what she referred to as “heaven on a plate,” and I left with an interview the following Monday for the Email Marketing Assistant’s job at Nettco.

  * * *

  Meanwhile, things with Bailey at the café were a little strained, to say the least. Well, they were for me, anyway. She was her usual happy self, getting on with the business of running the Cozy Cottage, as she did every day. Luckily for me, she didn’t raise the whole Last First Date debacle, and it became a large Josh-shaped elephant in the room.

  I was putting the final touches on a cake with a frosting bag early on Friday morning when there was a knock on the back door. Opening up, I was met by the now habitual sight of a smiling Josh, box of beans held in his arms.

  “Morning, Paige!”

  “Hey, there . . . Josh.” I stood in the doorway, holding the door. My belly did a little flip. This was the first time I’d seen him since my friends had got it all wrong about him and me and it felt . . . uncomfortable.

  “Can I come in?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes. Sorry.” I stood back for him, and he brushed past me, heading to the back of the kitchen.

  I waited by the door as he placed the beans in the pantry, not sure quite what to do or say. Does he know Bailey and Marissa chose him as my One Last First Date?

  “Where were you earlier?” he asked as he walked back into the kitchen, his hands now empty.

  I gripped the door with my hand. “What do you mean?”

  “Our run. I waited, but you didn’t show.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry! I totally forgot.”

  “No worries. How about we go for one tomorrow? I’ve got some time in the afternoon, if that works for you?”

  “Tomorrow’s Saturday.” My big second date with Marcus. My chest expanded with anticipation.

  “I’m aware of that.” He grinned at me. “How about it?”

  “Oh, I’m not sure.” I had a busy afternoon of date preparation planned: waxing, buffing, plucking, the works.

  “Isn’t your Color Run soon?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “No buts. Let’s do it. We could do the Tamaki Drive run, along the beaches. It’ll be busy, but it’s meant to be a stunning day. Good for the soul, and all that malarkey.” His grin broadened. Why was he in such a good mood? “See you at the that kayak place at two.”

  Not wanting to give in to my discomfort of spending time with my would-be Last First Date, I agreed. “Sure.”

  “Awesome.” He flashed me his brilliant smile, and a strange feeling passed across my chest. What was it? Guilt? I wasn’t sure. “See you then. It’s a nice, flat run, so I’m sure you’ll cope just fine. Maybe we could grab a coffee afterward?”

  “Oh, I can’t, sorry.” Going on a run with Josh was one thing, having coffee afterward when I could be preparing for my big date, was quite another.

  “Okay, no worries. See you tomorrow.”

  I closed the door behind him. That wasn’t so bad. I could cope with seeing Josh. He was just Josh, after all. It was no big deal.

  “You’re seeing Josh tomorrow?”

  I looked up to see Bailey standing in the entranceway, a quizzical look and a half smile on her face.

  “Yes.” I stood up straighter and looked her in the eye. “We’re going on a run. I’m still in training, remember? We’re running, and then I’m going home to get ready for my date with Marcus.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, her half smile still in evidence. “Sounds great.”

  “It is.” I smiled back at her. Two could play this game. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a cake to decorate.”

  “Sure,” Bailey said before turning away.

  I returned to the cake, picked up the frosting bag, and aimed it at the edge where I’d almost finished a row of flowers. In my distracted state, I must have squeezed too hard. A large dollop of frosting landed on the cake, ruining it. I let out a sigh. The cake now looked like a giant footstep had squished a third of the flowers. I’d have to scrape it off and start again.

  Oh, and try not to think about how potentially awkward my run with Josh could be tomorrow.

  * * *

  We met at the allotted time by the kayak rental place the following afternoon. I had grown used to running in the cool morning air—and being able to hide behind my appropriately thick and baggy sweatshirt, hiding any lumps or bumps I didn’t want the world to see. But the afternoon was warm, so I’d been forced to dust off an old pair of running shorts and a T-shirt.

  As I stood, waiting for Josh to arrive, I noticed the elastic waistband on the shorts wasn’t quite as tight as I’d expected it to be. Huh. Perhaps I had started to lose some of that muffin top I’d been adding to so diligently for the last few months—or longer? Josh and I had got into a regular routine of running in the mornings, so it was possible. And I’d noticed my regular clothes hadn’t felt quite as uncomfortable lately. I warmed at the thought.

  I spotted a man running toward me and knew by his gait it was Josh. A moment later, he was by my side, panting but with his characteristic smile on his face.

  “Gorgeous day for a run, right?” I said.

  “So gorgeous. Hey, you look cute.” He bounced from foot to foot.

  I glanced down at my ensemble. I was wearing one of the few outfits I’d bought new because who wants to wear someone’s old work-out clothes? Layer upon layer of someone else’s dried sweat. Eww. “Thanks.”

  “Shall we get going? I figured you could easily do the five kilometers now. I’ve got the route mapped out, and we can measure it on this.” He brandished his watch at me, some sort of black plastic fitness device, I assumed. “Shall we give it a shot?”

  I thought about how I wanted to look and feel the best I could for my date with Marcus. Running that far now may ultimately help me look better, but it might also might make me tired for tonight. And I needed to be on my game.

  “How about we see how we go? I’m not sure I’m ready.”

  Josh was still bouncing from foot to foot as though he needed an urgent bathroom break. “Are you chicken?” he goaded.

  “No!” I put my hands on my hips. How dare he!

  “Yeah, you are. You’re chicken.” He shot me a cheeky grin.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Well, if you’re not chicken, what are you, then?”

  My heart clanged in my chest. “I have a date tonight, and I . . . I don’t want to be tired.”

  What was I doing?

  Josh ceased bouncing from foot to foot. “A date, huh? I thought—” he stopped mid-sentence and looked at me.

  A knot began to form in my tummy as heat crawled up my face. “You thought what?” I pressed my lips together, looking at him from behind my lashes. What would he say? Did he know Marissa and Bailey had singled him out him as my Last First Date?

  He shook his head, his ever-present smile returning. “Nothing. Let’s get going.”

  We began to jog along, side by side. I glanced at him, trying to gauge his reaction. If he was bothered, he hid it well. Perhaps my friends hadn’t told him, after all?

  After running in silence along the path beside the sparkling blue Hauraki Gulf for a few minutes, I began to feel bad about what I’d done. I’d baited him, and it hadn’t been a fair—or kind—thing to do. I decided I needed to make up for it as best I could, so I turned to Chatty Paige, the version of me most people seemed to like.

  “What are you up to this weekend?” I asked, my tone bright and light.

  “Not a lot. I’m going to shoot some pool with a couple of friends tonight, but I generally like to have a quiet Sunday to recover from the week.”

  “Do you do that a lot?”

  “Well, yes. Every Sunday.”

  I laughed between taking in enough air.
“I mean, do you shoot pool a lot?”

  “I’ve got a regular thing going with some guys, yeah.”

  “I love pool.” I’d grown up playing pool with my Dad. We had an old secondhand table in the garage, and we used to go out there and play after dinner most nights. Since moving back home after Dad’s diagnosis, that routine had been replaced with reality TV. I’d like to get the old table out again some time. “I’m a pretty good player, you know.”

  “Is that a challenge, Paige Miller?” Josh asked, as he turned his head and looked at me. I noticed he was smiling once more. The knot in my belly unraveled.

  “Sure. If you want it to be.” I grinned back at him.

  “All right. How about tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow’s Sunday, remember. You don’t do anything on Sundays.”

  “I could make an exception for pool.”

  “All right.” I had begun to pant harder now, so I restricted myself to shorter sentences between breaths. “Max’s Pool Hall.” Pant “Tomorrow at three.” Pant pant.

  “Sure, that sounds fun. I warn you, though, I’m a pretty handy player.” Josh was clearly not having the same breathing challenges as me.

  “Fighting talk.” Pant. “We’ll see.” Pant.

  We ran in silence for some time, primarily because I needed to concentrate on breathing and putting one foot in front of the other while dodging walkers, runners, and the unpredictable rollerbladers on the path, out enjoying the beautiful afternoon. The surprisingly hot autumn sun was beating down on us. Suddenly thirsty, I looked longingly at a grassy area in the shade of a large tree at Mission Bay, a gorgeous golden sand beach next to Tamaki Drive.

  “Josh?” Pant. “Can we stop?” Pant. I pointed at the tree.

  He glanced down at his watch. “Sure. We’ve been running for over two and a half kilometers, anyway. This can be halfway.”

  We both jogged—there may have been some staggering on my behalf—over to the shaded area, and I plunked myself down on the ground in relief. Dodging the people and the heat of the sun had all taken its toll. I was used to the relative quiet of early morning, only serious runners—and me—around.