The Year of No Rules

by Rose McClelland

  That being said, she did love it that Sam was there on the weekend, though. She did love it that every time they sat down for dinner, he’d make a beeline for her and sit next to her. She felt a little frisson of excitement every time he was near her. She’d notice his shirt sleeve rolled up, the soft hairs on his arm. She noticed the way his smile crooked up slightly to the left. When he walked into the room, she’d suddenly be aware of his presence. Chemistry. Isn’t that what they called it?

  During lunch, he asked her all about her dancing, how long she had been attending the dance classes. That conversation then led to her work. What she did. What he did. Then they were discussing family, hobbies, all sorts. Before she knew it, everyone had gradually left the table and gone on to do other things, while she and Sam were still sitting there, talking. It was like opening a gift; unpeeling the layers, gradually finding out more and more about a person. There was so much to discover; so much to learn. They continued their chat; on and on, until eventually Sonia came looking for them and said they were all going for a walk.

  On the walk, Sam was chatty with everyone but he seemed to pay extra attention to Sasha. Perhaps she was imagining it, but that was what it felt like.

  She loved his personality; chatty, outgoing, charismatic, confident. She always went for guys like that. And maybe that’s the problem, a negative voice crept in and chided her. Maybe that’s why you always get hurt. Maybe you should go for the shy type; reserved, cautious.

  When they returned from the walk, Sasha made herself a cup of coffee and retreated to the little TV room. No-one else was there. It was a little slice of peace and quiet. She needed to gather her thoughts. She knew that she was careering down the train track of really fancying Sam. She did not want to jump in this time. Had she not learned anything from her experience with Kirk?

  She would not chase after Sam. She would not set the ball rolling. If he wanted her, he could come and get her. And even if he did come and get her, she would wait; wait to see how genuine he was, put him through a few tests first.

  As if reading her thoughts, she heard a tiny knock on the door and she looked up to see Sam peering through the window panelling of the door, pulling a funny face.

  She laughed.

  He opened the door ajar and asked, “Can I come in?”

  “Sure,” she replied, sitting upright and fixing him with a smile.

  He sat on the other armchair, chatting amiably with her. There was no awkwardness between them. The chat flowed endlessly. Sasha felt that, if she could reach out and touch it, her finger would jolt back at the electricity running between them. The chemistry.

  “So, how long are you single?” Sam asked, as though fishing. As though flinging out a large fishing pole and dangling it as far down deep into the waters as he could. Or perhaps that was just Sasha’s wishful thinking. Perhaps he was just making polite conversation.

  “Oh… for ever!” Sasha joked.

  Sam laughed in unison with her.

  “No really… about two years,” she replied.

  Sam nodded his head. “A little while then?” He smiled at her then. A knowing smile. A smile that said, ‘you must be over him by now then?’

  Or perhaps she was just reading too much into things.

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “How about you?”

  “About a year,” he replied. “Few dates since, but you know…” he shrugged, as though to say ‘it didn’t work out’.

  She nodded in understanding. She wanted to talk more. She wanted to find out about the ex, what happened and whether he was ready to date now. But Sonia came into the room at that point, followed by Sarah and Natalie and Gemma. And before she knew it, their little frisson was broken, the chemistry was gone, and it was just a room full of excitable women chatting about this and that.

  Stop it, Sasha chided herself. Stop obsessing. If it is meant to be, it will happen. You don’t need to chase after it. But then there was another voice inside her. Perhaps a more logical one, saying yes, but surely I have to set the wheels in motion a little bit? At least show him I’m interested?

  So perhaps that was why, later on that night, when they were all sitting around having a few drinks before heading out, Sasha felt brave enough to be a little flirty. Sam had followed her into the kitchen to top up their drinks. She was popping ice-cubes out of the tray and into her glass. Just for a bit of fun, she flung some ice-cubes in his direction.

  “Oi! You! Missy!” he said, feigning annoyance but looking secretly pleased. “You watch it or I’ll…”

  “What?” she smiled mischievously.

  “I don’t know, I’ll…” he playfully and gently grabbed her arm, pulling it behind her back as though to restrain her.

  At that point, Sonia came into the kitchen, took one look at them and joked, “You two flirting again?”

  Flirting? Are we? Sasha gulped in recognition. It had been a long time since she had flirted with anyone. She hardly recognised herself.

  And yes, it was fun. A lot of fun. Just for today, she felt like she was finally moving on.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Even though Sam was flirting with her that night, perhaps it was her fear that held her back. Even though he was smiley and paid her lots of attention, there was always that other voice; the negative voice, the voice of doubt, of self-protection, the ‘what if’ voice.

  What if he turns out like Kirk?

  What if there are rules and regulations?

  What if there are ultimatums and talk-a-thons?

  What if there are one month breaks with no contact?

  Sasha watched as Sam danced with other girls too. She was not the only one. He could have his pick. He was so outgoing; so charismatic, so chatty. He was friendly with all the girls. What made her different?

  With that in mind, something in her retreated. Even after all the flirting, something made her hold back.

  He’ll have to prove himself, she thought. I’ll just wait. Wait to see if he snogs anyone else first. Time will tell.

  She didn’t have the same desperate urgency that she’d had with Kirk. She wasn’t scheming, manipulating, planning. If it was going to happen, it would come to her; no coercing, no plotting.

  So at the end of the night, after all the dancing, he led her over to a corner to sit. He looked at her intently, his face leaning in close to her, his body language screaming that he was angling for a kiss, if she let him. Immediately, her guard went up. This is not the time. He’s too drunk. This is not the moment for this to happen. I don’t know if this is just the drink talking. If I happen to be in the right place at the right time.

  Body-swerving him entirely, she suggested, “Why don’t we go and sit outside? Have a smoke?”

  He agreed and they found seats under the awning; lighting up cigarettes and sitting in the cool air. The chat had reverted back to small talk. The intensity of his earlier body language had gone. It was as though they were just good friends.

  Although it was Sasha’s decision to step away from the scenario, she was worried that the moment had gone forever. Perhaps that her one chance. Perhaps now it was gone. Perhaps they’d crossed the line from potential snogging partners to just good friends. He would probably never try to kiss her again.

  Oh God, Sasha scolded herself. I’m damaged goods. I am so irretrievably damaged by Kirk that I have a massive guard up against any potential partners. I’ll never be able to find love again.

  But thankfully, Sam seemed too drunk to even notice or care. In fact, at the end of the night, when she went to leave, he gave her a sad frown on departure.

  “You leaving?” he asked, mournfully.

  “Yeah, I’m heading home,” she repeated unnecessarily, aware of her awkwardness and shyness around him.

  “Aw…” he continued with a mournful grimace. “We should catch up again soon… get a drink or something…?” he asked her.

  Sasha nodded, trying to do so coolly and not in the manner of an eager puppy dog desperate to get a
treat. He’s asking me a on a date! The needy puppy inside her jumped up with excitement.

  “Yeah, we should,” she agreed, trying to look as cool as possible.

  “Add me on Facebook,” he said. “We’ll sort something.”

  “Great,” she smiled.

  And then she was gone, metaphorically punching the air in satisfied contentment.

  Through Facebook messages, they decided on a film, followed by drinks.

  Sitting next to him in the cinema, Sasha felt the electricity tingle down her arm as it brushed up against his. When she crossed her legs and her short skirt revealed the length of her thighs, she could have sworn she heard him gulp in appreciation.

  Sasha did not concentrate on one word of the film, she was so consumed by the presence of Sam beside her; the awareness that his leg was pressed up next to hers, his arm pressed up against hers. Seeing his profile in the corner of her eye. Wondering if he would reach an arm around her. If he would plant a kiss on her head. If she would then tilt her head up to meet his.

  But there was no hand holding. No kissing. No touching. Just sitting watching the film like a pair of awkward teenagers. How was it possible, Sasha thought, to be transported back to the awkwardness of age fourteen when she was over forty? It was incredible. Inventors would kill for time travel speediness of that velocity.

  After the film, they walked to a bar where they ordered pints of beer and baskets of chips. The chat flowed and ended up at the subject of food and cooking, with Sam asking Sasha if she was a good cook.

  “Well, I have a stab at it,” she replied. “But it’s usually simple stuff, like fajitas or moussaka.”

  Sam nodded. “I like fajitas,” he grinned, adding a little wink.

  Realising that he was fishing for an invite, Sasha smiled. “I should cook them for you sometime, then.”

  “Oh good,” he said. “Glad you’re picking those hints off the floor.” He pretended to scoop something off the floor which made her giggle.

  Was this a date? It looked like a date; cinema, drinks. If it looked like a date and sounded like a date, it probably was a date, she thought.

  However, there was no kissing that night. Not even at the taxi rank. Sasha was aware that she had the cloak of fear wrapped tightly around her. She was aware that she was waiting. Waiting for what? She did not know. Waiting for him to prove himself? Waiting for him not to get off with any of the other girls in their circle? Waiting for him to prove that it was really her he wanted?

  Sasha was aware that it was a tall order. That by placing such high demands on blokes, she could be a skeleton covered in cobwebs before Mr Perfect came along.

  But something told her just to be patient. What’s the rush? If he likes you, he’ll wait.

  So when she did invite him around for dinner, she had no idea if that would be the night they’d kiss.

  She had made fajitas, as requested. There were two bottles of wine chilling in the fridge. She had lit candles and put on soft music. Then she decided the music was too soppy and turned it off again. The butterflies were flitting around in her stomach. She had to keep running to the loo. There was nothing else for it but to knock back a large glass of wine to take the edge off things.

  When the doorbell rang, her stomach still flipped, despite the calming alcohol inside her.

  She opened the door to see him standing there. Tall, smiley; a huge grin on his face.

  “Hi, come in,” she smiled, stepping back and letting him enter. She walked behind him as he stepped into the living room, admiring the décor; savouring the cooking smells.

  They sat and ate, chatting as amiably as they always had.

  What was there to be nervous about? Sasha thought. He was always so easy to talk to.

  But when they moved to the sofa, that awkwardness had returned. The big space between them on the sofa. No sign of any cuddling or kissing. Maybe this wasn’t a date after all. Maybe he just wanted to be my friend. Maybe he did really just want to try my fajitas.

  She quietly congratulated herself for turning off the romantic music. Imagine how embarrassing it would be if he arrived to find a romantic setting when he was only actually visiting her as a mate.

  Going to the bathroom, she had a quiet word with herself. Right, it’s 11pm now. He hasn’t kissed me by now so it’s not happening. You are both just friends. Let him say his goodbyes and go home.

  When she returned to the sofa, he looked up at her and smiled. “You know, when my friend was giving me a lift over here, he asked me if this was a date.”

  Sasha raised her eyebrows, a smile creeping across her face.

  “Is this a date?” he asked, his voice heavy with expectation.

  “I dunno…” she stumbled. “Do you want it to be a date?”

  He chuckled and grabbed her hand in a playful embrace. “No, no, missy, I asked you first… is this a date?”

  His face had got close to hers. His body was leaning in. She could feel his lips so close to hers.

  “I…” she whispered. “I guess it is…”

  His face edged closer to hers. “Good…” he whispered. “I thought so too…”

  And then he kissed her. Soft. Hard. Slow. Fast. Passionate. Tentative. Until before long they were lying side by side on the sofa, devouring each other.

  It felt wonderful. As though she was sinking down through the carpet. As though everything had fallen away. There was just him and her, alone on the sofa.

  He paused for a moment, coming up for air. He looked deep into her eyes and said, “I have wanted to do that for a very long time…”

  She smiled and then teased him. “So why didn’t you…?” she grinned.

  He held her hands back playfully. “Because I didn’t know if you’d want me to.”

  He traced a line down her side and near her breast, which made her tingle in anticipation.

  “I want you to,” she whispered.

  And then he kissed her again.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  They lay like that for a long time; kissing, talking, whispering, lost in each other, with time standing still and the whole world falling away. There was just him and her; alone on the sofa.

  After quite some time, Sam reached over to his phone which was sitting on the coffee table.

  “Shit. I didn’t know it was so late.” His expletive broke the romantic mood.

  “Why? What’s wrong?” Sasha asked in alarm.

  “Nothing…” he replied. “It’s just that I’ve missed my train.” Sam looked at her sheepishly. She knew what that meant. That meant that he wanted to stay with her overnight. That he wanted to curl up in bed beside her. That he wanted to stir in the middle of the night and have slow, lazy sex with her.

  But she didn’t want that. Not yet anyway. Not until he had proved himself at least. What if he turned out to be another one of those fuck buddy types? The kind who disappeared the minute he got a shag?

  Or what if they shagged too quickly and then he didn’t respect her? Thought that she went around shagging every single guy she met?

  No, she wouldn’t shag him. Not yet anyway. She’d do things differently this time.

  Perhaps she’d put him through a series of secret tests. If he passed the tests, all well and good. If he failed the tests, she’d move on, before she got too hurt.

  “Oh dear…” she replied, not offering for him to stay. “What are you going to do?”

  He looked at her, sheepishly.

  “Well. Could I stay here…?” he asked.

  “You can sleep on the sofa?” she offered. She noticed that a flicker of something ran across Sam’s face. Disappointment? Embarrassment?

  “I’m sorry…” she went on. “It’s just that I wouldn’t feel comfortable us sharing a bed together so soon…” she trailed off, waiting for him to interject with reassurance.

  “Of course, of course…” he agreed. “I totally get that…” He smiled at her then; a real open, honest, genuine smile. He was not annoyed, Sasha
thought. Result. He is not annoyed.

  Sasha busied herself getting him a duvet and pillow. When she was finished, she stood at the door watching him, sitting on the sofa, contemplating a night of cramped sleep.

  “Night night,” she smiled. “It’s been a lovely evening.”

  He looked up at her and smiled warmly. “Night night, hon,” and he gave her a little wink.

  She closed the door behind her and climbed the stairs.

  Yes, she felt like she was walking away from a magnet.

  Yes, every ounce of her wanted to grab him by the hand and bring him upstairs with her. But this time she had to do things differently.

  Something had to change.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Sasha woke the next morning, her eyes slowly adjusting to the light. She heard the low shrill call of the birds outside her window, rejoicing in yet another day.

  She stirred, her mind slowly filling up with memories of the night before. Sam, the kissing, the feel of his clothed body pushing up against her, the way that time had stood still. The lovely memories flooded her like golden sunshine on a tired body. A smile crept over her face.

  Then her thoughts shifted, to the fact that he was still downstairs. He was lying on her sofa. She would have to do that awkward chit-chat thing in the cold light of day. It was a Saturday. Perhaps he was expecting to hang out with her all day. For the two of them to go for a romantic stroll followed by a roast dinner by the fireside in a cosy pub.

  All of a sudden, Sasha didn’t feel ready for that. It seemed so soon; too forced. She needed time to gather her thoughts together; to spend some time on her own.

  Taking deep breaths, she tried to calm herself. Okay, she would be cool. She would put on a little make-up. She would go downstairs in the manner of ‘just rolled out of bed, ruffled-looking but still cute’. She would offer him coffee. She would chat. And then she would say ‘terribly sorry, but I must go and get ready. I’m going to see my folks today.’