When Polly Met Olly

by Zoe May

  ‘Where are you going?’ Gabe asks.

  ‘I need to message Eve privately. You’re distracting me.’

  ‘Poor girl,’ Gabe sighs. ‘If she is a girl,’ he adds.

  I roll my eyes indulgently. ‘Yeah, well if she is a girl, she gets a date with Brandon. Nothing poor about it.’

  ‘Hmmph. True,’ Gabe murmurs, before taking another bite of his bagel. I smile over my shoulder before shutting my bedroom door.

  Chapter 13

  ‘Derek, Derek!’ I burst through the office door, desperate to tell Derek about my progress with Eve.

  ‘Morning!’ Derek looks up from the breakfast sandwich he’s demolishing at his desk and shoots me a bemused look. ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Everything’s way better than okay!’

  Derek wipes a streak of ketchup from his chin. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I got Brandon a date!’ I enthuse.

  ‘Really?’ Derek looks sceptical. ‘Does she meet the criteria?’

  ‘Yep, and then some. She’s an absolute dream woman, Derek!’ As I take off my coat and fire up my computer, I fill Derek in.

  ‘She sounds perfect.’

  ‘She is! She’s so smart and wise. She seems really thoughtful and humble. She’s clearly a really reflective person,’ I say, thinking back to the things she said last night about setting your own worth. I thought about that a lot as I was falling asleep. Alicia may not have bothered to invite me to the launch of the cookbook that I took the photos for, but that doesn’t mean I can’t attend. She can’t exactly turn me away. Alicia can try to keep me down and put me in my place, but it’s up to me whether or not I allow it and I’m putting my foot down. Like Eve said, I set the standard for how I’m treated.

  ‘You sound quite taken with her yourself!’ Derek comments with a wink.

  ‘Ha! She’s not quite my type Derek, but she’s definitely a catch.’

  ‘Let me see her,’ Derek says.

  I rummage in my handbag for my phone and open her profile, before presenting my screen proudly to him.

  He peers at the photos.‘Oh wow, she’s a stunner, isn’t she? Brandon’s going to love her!’ Derek enthuses as he swipes through Eve’s photos. ‘Shame he’s in Switzerland or he’d be dying to take her out.’

  ‘He’s in Switzerland?’ I gawp.

  ‘Yeah, work trip. You’ll have to keep Eve entertained for a few more days,’ Derek tells me.

  ‘Really?’ I grumble. I know it’s my job to message women and while I don’t think it’s as wrong as Gabe makes out, there are limits. I was beginning to feel a bit guilty last night when things got deep with Eve. There she is, probably thinking she’s having a moment with Brandon and it’s actually some random girl. We kept on chatting for a bit before bed and once I suggested a date and she agreed, I was hoping that would be it. I thought Brandon could take over from this point onwards.

  ‘When’s he getting back?’ I ask.

  ‘Friday, I think,’ Derek says, taking another bite of his sandwich.

  ‘Oh, right,’ I sigh as I log onto Match.

  The intercom buzzes, causing me to jump. ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Ahh!’ Derek’s eyes light up. ‘That’ll be my new potential client, Elliot Brown. He got in touch the other day. I’ve got three consultations booked in today thanks to our new and improved website. It seems like people are responding to the new approach.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yep. You were right in your critique of the market. Elliot said he’d visited a few other dating agencies but was drawn to our friendly vibe. You know, I always thought I needed to be bigger and better and swankier to succeed, but I think that might actually be Olly Corrigan’s downfall.’

  ‘Ha!’

  Derek buzzes Elliot Brown up.

  ‘Right, I’ll be next door,’ he says as he gathers his client consultation forms.

  ‘Good luck, Derek. You’ve got this!’ I fist bump the air.

  ‘Derek laughs and does a wink and a shooting motion at me as he heads into the client lounge, closing the door behind him.

  Life’s been so full on over the past few days, with Alicia and Eve, that I’ve barely thought about Olly Corrigan. Not that there’s much to think about. So I was kind of attracted to him and we had an awkward moment in Milano’s – it doesn’t really matter now. He obviously knew I was a phoney and probably thought I was really weird for being such a time-waster, but who cares? All that matters is that Derek’s business is doing better. I may not have been the most convincing mystery shopper but I did achieve my objective. I helped Derek get an edge over the competition. I should probably put Olly out of my mind, but instead, I find myself Googling him and within seconds, I’m scrolling through his Instagram pictures. Most of his photos are overly posed snaps of him hanging out in galleries or restaurants, or leaning against graffitied walls or urban doorways while wearing the latest high-end fashion. They tend to have completely meaningless captions like, ‘Happy Saturday everyone. Have a great one’ or ‘Can tomorrow be Sunday again?’ In some of them, he’s even gone so far as to caption them with the cringeworthy hashtag ‘#whatOllywore’ and then a list of items with the labels tagged. I can’t help rolling my eyes. He clearly thinks he’s some kind of influencer.

  But he’s hot, there’s no denying that. He’s got a naturally handsome face and that smile… And with his tattoos and tanned skin, he does cut a striking figure. He’s definitely the kind of guy who stands out in the crowd and in a city like New York, that’s not an easy feat. But his dress sense is a bit questionable. He’s in his forties and yet he’s wearing bomber jackets and sneakers like he thinks he’s some kind of cool kid. He definitely dresses younger than his years and while there’s nothing wrong with that, if he were a woman, he’d probably be called ‘mutton dressed as lamb’. I click on a few more pictures – there’s one of him sitting cross-legged on a yoga mat in a pink T-shirt and camouflage jogging bottoms with a caption professing his love for Hatha. Could he be any more of a city boy metrosexual? His latest photo, posted last night, is of him sitting in a bar, dressed in a stylish black shirt holding a glass of champagne, with the caption, ‘A stumbling block for the pessimist is a stepping stone to the optimist’. Interesting. I copy and paste the quote and I’m about to Google it, when a message pings through on Match, distracting me. It’s from Heather – the cute Harry Potter fan who I thought would be a great match for Andy – saying how interesting and cool he sounds!

  As I write a reply, I can’t help feeling pleased with myself. I feel like a proper matchmaker. Maybe this is a good job for me after all! I log into my work emails and find the files of the latest clients Derek’s assigned me and pass the morning setting up profiles for them, while intermittently messaging Heather, who seems sweet, normal and genuinely interested in Andy. Crisp winter sunshine streams in through the window and I can hear Derek’s laughter from next door as he cracks jokes with the new client. He seems to be really embracing the new personal approach of the agency. Maybe it’ll be To the Moon & Back that wins Dating Agency of the Year in the next New York Dating Awards and not Elite Love Match. Maybe the underdog will strike back. I send a few more messages to Heather but my growling stomach starts to distract me. I was in such a rush to get to the office this morning to tell Derek all about matching with Eve that as usual, I forgot to eat and now my stomach is rumbling. I decide to head out for an early lunch and grab some client files to read while I’m out since I really should be working. I shove them in my bag, put my coat on and slip through the client lounge. Derek’s sitting opposite a guy with dark hair and an unusual spiky fringe, who looks like he’s in his early thirties. They both turn to look.

  ‘Just heading out for a snack,’ I say as I scurry past.

  Derek smiles. ‘See you,’ he says, before returning his attention to Elliot.

  It’s a fresh winters day. The air is cool but the sky is bright, with a sharp blue winter’s sunshine. It makes a nice change from the overca
st rainy weather the city’s been having in recent weeks and I decide to make the most of it, walking a few blocks instead of dashing into the café opposite work like I usually do. I amble along for a bit until I spot a cute rustic-looking café that I haven’t seen before with a blackboard outside advertising a range of delicious-sounding specials. I head inside and check out the canteen displaying dozens of freshly made salads and sandwiches. I decide to take an early lunch, ordering a sandwich and a coffee, before perching at a table by the window. The food is delicious, and I demolish it pretty quickly, before grabbing a newspaper that someone’s left behind on a nearby table to have a read while I drink my coffee. I decide to send a quick message to Eve.

  Brandon: Hey, how’s your day going? Bad news – got a massive work project and I won’t be able to meet until the weekend. We’ll have to wait a few more days. Luckily, I’ve heard good things come to those who wait x

  Flirty message sent, I turn my attention to the paper. I’m deep into an article about a shark attack off the coast of Malaysia when a familiar voice distracts me.

  ‘Latte, extra shot. Cheers buddy.’

  I look over my shoulder to see none other than Olly Corrigan.

  ‘So, how’s uni going? Did you get that coursework in?’ he asks the barista.

  Shit. I quickly turn away. I should have realised that I’d wandered into his part of town. His office is just around the corner. This must be his local, he’s clearly on friendly terms with the staff. I shrink into my seat. As long as I don’t turn around again, hopefully he won’t notice me. The last thing I need is another awkward conversation with him. I’ll just keep my head down and read the paper. Or pretend to read the paper, because the truth is that I can’t help eavesdropping. As it turns out, the barista is a psychology student and Olly seems to have some kind of specialist knowledge in psychology because now they’re discussing dream theory – of all things – as the coffee machine churns away.

  Olly seems so locked in conversation, comparing the theories of Jung and Freud with the barista, that I dare to steal a glance at him over my shoulder. Fortunately, he doesn’t spot me. He’s standing at the counter clutching a takeaway coffee in one hand and gesticulating with the other as he explains why he thinks Freud’s interpretation of dreams as expressions of unfulfilled desires is wrong. He’s clearly really passionate about it, advocating that Jung had a ‘much stronger, more grounded approach’. He’s dressed in his usual outlandish clothes. He’s wearing a polo shirt with a print of pineapples that makes an eye-popping contrast with his tattoos and he’s got on the same tortoiseshell glasses that he was rocking last time we met. I quickly turn back to the paper, worried he’ll sense me looking.

  Luckily, he seems too into his conversation. Even I’m feeling quite engaged, it’s actually pretty interesting, and it’s funny to think that just an hour or so ago, I was rolling my eyes at Olly’s Instagram account and his ‘whatOllywore’ hashtag, writing him off as a vapid poser and now here he is, having a fairly intense conversation about dream theory with the barista at his local coffee shop. This Olly is smart, friendly, reflective and nice. He’s nothing like the persona he presents himself to be online, or the cold cynical businessman he seemed to be when we met.

  Olly says goodbye to the barista, wishing him good luck with his dissertation. I turn slightly away, cowering into myself to avoid being spotted as he leaves. I lift the paper to conceal my face as though I’m completely engrossed. I peer around the edge of the pages as he pulls open the door of the café to leave. He doesn’t appear to have noticed me and I let out a sigh of relief when all of a sudden, he lets the door swing closed and tuts to himself, as though he’s forgotten something. I cower behind the paper as he comes over to the napkin stand, which is only a few feet away from me, where sachets of sugar, salt, and sweetener are displayed. Bloody hell! He’s so near. I should have anticipated this! I lift the paper higher, holding it as wide open as I can so that it conceals me fully, while hoping I just look like someone who really adores the news. I can just about glimpse Olly’s legs as he approaches – a pair of red checked patterned trousers with turned up hems. Talk about clashing prints. I cower behind the paper, practically holding my breath while he lingers at the napkin stand.

  ‘Excuse me, can I grab a stirrer?’ Olly says.

  What the… Why is he talking to me? I peek around the side of my newspaper and realise that he’s trying to reach a pot of stirrers someone’s left by the window just beyond my plate. For goodness’ sake!

  ‘Polly?’ Olly says, recognising me instantly even though only a fraction of my face is protruding from behind the newspaper. Great. Just great.

  ‘Hi!’ I smile uncomfortably, before dumping the paper on the table, giving up. I reach for the pot of stirrers and present it to him. ‘Here you go,’ I say glumly.

  Olly raises an eyebrow, recognition dawning on his face. He freezes for a moment, before slowly reaching for a stirrer. He’s holding both his mobile phone, three sachets of sweetener, and his coffee cup in his other hand, and has his sandwich clamped under his arm. His phone’s flashing with unread messages.

  ‘You’re a long way from Staten Island, once again,’ he says dryly. I meet his gaze, taking in those rich brown eyes, full of intelligence and depth. They’re both handsome and beguiling. He takes a stirrer and I immediately place the pot back down, before hopping off my stool.

  ‘Erm yeah, you know. Projects all over the place. Lots of building work. Everywhere,’ I babble, avoiding eye contact.

  ‘Uh-huh…’ Olly says, eyeing me strangely.

  I grab my bag, desperate to get away. Why’s he standing there staring at me? Can’t he see he’s making me uncomfortable.

  ‘To the Moon & Back?’ Olly says suddenly.

  ‘What?’ I look up and realise he’s looking down at some client files from the agency that I printed out on Derek’s letterhead paper – the ones I shoved in my bag before I left the office. The papers are sticking out of my bag and the To the Moon & Back’s logo is clearly visible.

  ‘Oh, err…’ I can feel my cheeks flushing red. My mind races. The papers are clearly internal office documents, I can’t just pretend I’m a client of To the Moon & Back. Olly’s not stupid. The game is up. It’s clear I work there.

  ‘I have to go, sorry!’ I gabble, avoiding eye contact as I dash past him and hurry out the door. My heart is pounding as I practically run down the street to get as far away from Olly as possible. Great. Just great. Now he knows I’m a super shady spy who went poking around his business. He must thing I’m so dodgy. And the annoying thing is that I really don’t want him to think I’m dodgy because he’s gorgeous. He’s so bloody gorgeous.

  I turn a few corners, feeling safe I’ve gotten away from him and then check my phone. There’s a message from Eve, responding to the one I sent from Brandon about how they’ll have to wait until the weekend for a date.

  Eve: I’ve also heard that absence makes the heart grow fonder. So, I hope you’ll be pretty fond of me by the weekend. X

  I force Olly out of my mind and send a quick reply.

  Brandon: Ha. I already am. X

  Chapter 14

  I’m in a surprisingly good mood on my way to Alicia’s party, especially considering I haven’t been invited. Perhaps it’s because I’ve had a great week at work. I’ve finally managed to bag Andy a date with Heather. He was absolutely thrilled and has taken over messaging her now. I gave him the login details to his Match profile and he messaged me last night to say that he feels he’s made a ‘really promising connection’. And then, of course, there’s Brandon and Eve. Brandon’s been busy working with his client in Switzerland so I’ve continued to message Eve and honestly, if he doesn’t want her, I’d be almost tempted to date her myself. She’s funny, sweet, smart and philosophical. We’ve discussed everything from the meaning of life to our favourite films (I had to consult Brandon’s client file to see what they were). Things are still going well with Eve and I’m really hop
ing Brandon likes her as much as I do. Derek’s really pleased with my matchmaking skills. Things have picked up. He’s managed to get a sponsor for the party and he’s signed up a couple of new clients by emphasising the personal approach To the Moon & Back takes in comparison to our rivals. I feel like I’ve got into my stride at the agency, even if things outside work still aren’t going particularly well. Not only has Alicia still not invited me to the book launch, but she’s also completely ignored me.

  From a few blocks away, I can already see a hubbub of activity at the bookshop. It glows with a warm yellow light that spills onto the street. A few guests gather around a couple of tables on the pavement outside, enjoying a drink. I’m hit by a sudden wave of nervousness as I approach. I feel small and awkward attending a party I’m not officially meant to be attending, but then I remember what Eve said: ‘No one makes you feel inferior without your consent’ and I straighten my back and walk taller, as I head into the bookshop. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t be here. I took those photos in exchange for getting my name out there and networking, so I should network. Plus, I really want to see the book, I want to take photos of the launch for social media and make the most of it.

  A few people glance over at me as I head into the venue. They’re a typical hipster crowd, a couple of guys with long beards and skinny jeans and slim bohemian girls in cute dresses. I feel a little less trendy. Being broke has had an affect on my wardrobe and my outfit is nothing special. I’m wearing an old vintage shirt I found in a charity shop and a pair of black skinnies. Electronic music is playing in the background and people are standing around chatting while sipping from glasses of champagne and fancy-looking cocktails. Probably some of Alicia’s concoctions containing your five a day. On a table at the back of the bookstore is a giant pyramid of cookbooks with a crisp rendition of my turnip picture on the cover. I feel a swell of pride. It looks amazing! I rush up to the table and pick up a copy of the book. The photo looks incredible! Far better than I imagined. I’d thought the turnip shot was a bit of an odd choice for the front cover, but it looks great! It give a rustic feel to what is otherwise quite a modern-looking book. The title RAW! is emblazoned across the front in a bold font. I can’t stop smiling to myself as I hold the book. I look over my shoulder for someone to share the moment with when suddenly, I spot Alicia.