It Had To Be You: An absolutely laugh-out-loud romance novel

by Keris Stainton

  ‘Are they prescription?’

  ‘Course,’ she says, putting the tray down on the table. ‘I wouldn’t be able to see otherwise.’

  ‘Doesn’t usually stop you.’

  She sits down next to me and takes an enormous gulp of her gin, before saying, ‘So. What’s up?’

  I glance around. There’s one other person sitting out here – a man at the far end, also wearing sunglasses and reading the Telegraph. I lean closer to Freya.

  ‘So. I tried to have sex with Dan. And I couldn’t do it.’

  ‘Why not? It’s easy. Even I’ve done it. And I’m a lesbian.’ She enunciates the last word and the man at the other end of the balcony rattles his newspaper.

  ‘I think…’ I say. And then I take a swig of my own gin. ‘I think maybe I don’t fancy him enough. Or like him enough, maybe?’

  ‘Don’t you know?’

  I sigh. ‘No? I mean, he’s great. He’s kind. And he’s funny. A bit. And he’s hot, right?’

  ‘Les-bi-an,’ she says again.

  ‘Oh shut up, I know you know he’s hot.’

  ‘He’s hot.’

  ‘Right. So why am I just… not that into him?’

  ‘Is that a genuine question? Like, do you want me to actually answer that? For real? No bullshit?’

  ‘Yes.’ I pick up my gin, put it down again, shove a forkful of cake into my mouth.

  Freya pushes her sunglasses up on her head and leans over so her face is right in front of mine. ‘He’s not the man of your dreams. You want him to be, but he’s not. He’s nice, you’re nice, everything’s fine, but there’s no spark.’

  ‘There was a bit of a spark,’ I say. And drink some gin. ‘Like…’ I lean even closer so I’m speaking directly into her ear. ‘I nearly came. When we were, like, dry humping or whatever. I mean, I felt like maybe I could’ve done.’

  ‘Oh my god.’ She leans back in her chair and looks at me. ‘That doesn’t mean anything. All that means is that your parts like his parts. And that is not something to base a relationship on. Like… I once had a wank watching Jeremy Kyle. Does that mean I want to do Jeremy Kyle? One hundred per cent not. You really cannot take relationship advice from your fanny.’

  The man snaps his newspaper closed and goes inside.

  ‘Repressed,’ Freya says. ‘He should have a chat with his dick.’

  I drink some more gin.

  ‘I’ve got a question,’ Freya says. ‘Why are you still going out with him?’

  I close my eyes and wait for the sun to shine through my eyelids. ‘He’s nice.’

  ‘Nice.’

  ‘Nice is good.’

  ‘Nice is blah. And he is nice. I liked him. But even I could see there wasn’t much going on there. Between you. You were like friends.’

  ‘That’s what Henry said.’

  ‘Did he now.’

  I open my eyes. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Nothing.’ She’s got her sunglasses on again. ‘Just interesting that Henry noticed too. That’s all.’

  I drink some more gin, looking down on the street below. I love it here. I love that there are still independent shops. Just from where I’m sitting I can see a Polish deli, an Italian cafe, and a florist whose owner I know is French because I ordered birthday flowers for my mum from there. The scents of all the cafes and delis mix together along with the coffee from the various coffee shops (and the car and bus fumes) and I think it might be my favourite scent in the world. I breathe in deeply (and hope the pollution doesn’t kill me).

  ‘Do you want to know what I think?’ Freya says.

  ‘That’s why I asked.’

  ‘I think you’re scared. Because of Anthony. I think Anthony fucked you up and so now you want something safe – that’s what you always say when you talk about the dream, isn’t it? You feel safe and secure?’

  ‘But that’s normal, isn’t it? Everyone wants to feel safe and secure?’

  ‘Of course. But it depends on your reasons. Safety and security are great when someone makes you happy. When you want to tell them your secrets and, you know, give them your heart to take care of. Not when you want them to keep you safe because you’re afraid. Or because someone else hurt you and you don’t want to risk getting hurt again. Love is about taking risks.’

  I stare at a bike courier as he weaves between cars.

  ‘I’m scared,’ I tell Freya.

  She reaches over and squeezes my arm. ‘I know you are. But Dan is not the man of your dreams. And you need to let that dream go.’

  I know she’s right. Or at least, I think she is. But what if she’s wrong? What if I’m not scared because of Anthony? What if I’m scared of Dan? Of Dan being the man of my dreams. I can’t give up on him – on the dream – just yet. I just can’t.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I’m in the park. It’s dark and there’s music playing from the bandstand. I walk over to the bench and Dan’s sitting there, but he’s not in his usual black jeans and jacket; in fact he seems to be naked. I can’t tell for sure because he’s got a sheet wrapped around his waist. He looks at me.

  ‘Come here.’

  I can’t move. I stare at him, but I actually want to turn and run the other way. Instead, I take a couple of steps towards him. My legs feel heavy and I feel like there’s a rock inside my chest.

  ‘Come on,’ he says, patting the bench next to him.

  I’m almost there – he’s smiling at me and starting to lower the sheet – when I turn and run.

  And then I wake up.

  * * *

  The following evening after work, I’m settling down with a cup of tea and a plate of toast – Adam’s meant to be cooking, but he’s not home yet – and a plan to half-watch Letters to Juliet (again), while also Googling ‘accidental embezzlement’ and ‘companies in liquidation investigation’, when my phone buzzes with a text from Dan:

  GOT THE JOB!

  followed by another that’s just smiley faces and beers. And then,

  Having a party. You have to come!

  What?

  I send.

  Now?

  I want to say ‘On a Tuesday?!’ but even I know that will make me sound ancient, so I don’t. But on a Tuesday though?

  He replies with three cry/laugh emojis.

  I don’t know whether that means ‘of course’ or ‘of course not’. I show it to Freya, but she’s no help.

  I’m trying to formulate a response when the phone rings and Dan’s name comes up.

  ‘Tonight!’ he says, as soon as I answer. ‘Now!’

  ‘OK,’ I say, even though I’m already thinking that I’ll have to shower and find something to wear and go back out again when I’ve mentally committed myself to the sofa. ‘Congratulations!’

  ‘It’s a really good firm,’ he says and I can hear him smiling. ‘The one I wanted but didn’t think I’d actually get. The money’s good and the offices are amazing and… so can you come?’

  I don’t really want to. But I don’t know how to explain it to myself, never mind him, so I tell him yes, of course.

  * * *

  On the Tube to Euston, I think about what happened – or rather didn’t happen – after brunch. I’ve been thinking about it pretty much constantly, but mostly while doing other things. On the Tube, I can just sit and stare at my wan reflection in the window opposite and really focus on it. With the result that I spend fifteen minutes squirming with embarrassment and by the time I have to change at Euston, I really haven’t come up with anything beyond ‘I didn’t really want to have sex with him’.

  On the walk between the Northern line and the Victoria line, I idly wonder about writing a pros and cons list. Dan is lovely. He’s kind to me. He was cool when I stopped the sex and while he shouldn’t get cookies for that, I can’t help mentally assigning him some because Anthony would not have been cool with it. I don’t want to think about Anthony. But the thing is… no matter what Freya says, nice is important. Kindness is important. A
nd Dan is literally the man of my dreams. Or he was. Whereas Henry – I don’t want to think about Henry. If I did write a pros and cons list, the pros would be longer. A lot longer. But then cons. The cons would probably be weightier.

  On the Victoria line I don’t get a seat and I end up perched on one of those padded shelf things by the door between carriages. The windows are open and my hair is whipped around my head in a frenzy. My mind doesn’t feel much better. Dan is perfect. He’s my dream man. So I didn’t want to have sex with him yesterday – doesn’t mean I never will. Maybe we’ll do it tonight. At the party. I think I’ve still got the condoms in my bag.

  * * *

  ‘I really didn’t think so many people would come!’ Dan tells me, taking my coat and hanging it up on a hook in the hall, just behind the door. ‘Did you find it OK?’

  ‘I found Brixton OK, the flat was a bit trickier.’ Although I manage to find it by noise alone in the end. Didn’t think anyone else would be playing ‘Wild Thoughts’ at such an outrageous volume on a Tuesday night.

  ‘Yeah,’ he says, glancing over his shoulder. I don’t think he was listening. ‘Come through and I’ll get you a drink.’

  I follow him into the small, dark, kitchen. There’s a window but it’s facing a brick wall. A youngish guy with curly floppy hair and a bit of a feeble goatee half-leers at me and Dan says, ‘That’s Anton.’

  I raise a hand in a sort of wave and Anton high-fives it.

  ‘Beer OK?’ Dan asks me. He’s already holding out a bottle of a brand I don’t recognise. He looks a bit pink and sweaty and even giddier than usual. I wonder if he’s high, but I think it’s his usual enthusiasm.

  ‘Fine, yeah.’ I take it and immediately take a sip. It’s more bitter than I’d usually drink, but it’s not terrible.

  ‘I’ll introduce you to everyone,’ Dan says. ‘Actually, first…’

  He tugs me slightly down the hallway, presses me against the wall and kisses me. He tastes like beer but it’s nice.

  ‘I’m really happy for you,’ I tell him.

  He grins at me and his eyes are glittering. ‘I’m so excited. It’s just the best thing that could’ve happened. Now come and meet everyone.’

  He takes my hand and leads me through to the lounge: a long rectangle leading out onto a small balcony. White walls with a framed poster of New York I know is from IKEA and what looks like someone’s lecture notes stuck up with Sellotape. It is full of people.

  Dan points at his friends and shouts names and I know there’s no chance of me remembering any of them. I smile and nod and occasionally laugh if it seems warranted. There are way more men here than women, but there are a couple of women who look to be about my age, sitting on a big squashy sofa at the end of the room.

  ‘Anton’s girlfriend,’ Dan says, pointing at the one on the left, who has a pointy face, a chin-length bob, and is wearing the Tatty Devine Lobster necklace. He points at the other one. ‘I don’t know you.’

  ‘Gemma,’ she shouts and smiles at us both. She’s got dyed silver hair with black roots and she’s wearing bright red lipstick that I can see smeared around the neck of her beer bottle.

  ‘Are you OK here for a minute?’ Dan asks me. ‘I just need to…’ He gestures back at the door.

  I nod and watch him walk back through the room, doing that handshake shoulder-grab thing men do, throwing his head back to laugh at something someone says, pretending to hit someone else in the balls.

  He is mine, I think to myself. He is meant for me. He is the man of my dreams.

  ‘How do you know Dan?’ the girl closest to me – Gemma – asks.

  ‘We only just met really,’ I tell her.

  ‘This isn’t your first date?’ the other girl says. I realise Dan didn’t tell me her name, just that she was Anton’s girlfriend.

  I shake my head. ‘No. We’ve had dinner. Also, we went on the London Eye and I had a panic attack.’

  ‘Oh, that was you?’ she says. ‘I heard about that. You didn’t know you were scared of heights?’

  I shake my head. ‘No! I’ve always been fine before.’

  ‘That happened to me,’ Gemma says. ‘I went on a hen night to Blackpool and we went up the tower and there’s this glass floor, right? And everyone else thought it was really funny to like jump on it – we were bladdered – and I just froze. I literally couldn’t even move my legs. It took them ages to coax me out of there. They were all really pissed off with me.’

  Anton’s girlfriend is looking between me and Gemma curiously, as if she’s never heard of such a thing.

  ‘Kasie did a parachute jump,’ Gemma tells me, gesturing to Anton’s girlfriend with her thumb. ‘She doesn’t know what we’re talking about.’

  ‘It was fucking awesome,’ Kasie said. ‘I just… I don’t really worry about things like that. The London Eye’s safe, right? You can’t fall off. It’s not going to fall over or roll away.’

  I picture it rolling along the Embankment and I have to grab the back of the sofa the two of them are sitting on.

  ‘Shut up, Kase,’ Gemma says. ‘You’re giving her the shits.’

  I drink some of the weird beer. ‘I’m OK. How long have you and Anton been together?’

  While she tells me – they were at school together and went out and split up a lot, but then got back together when they both came to London – I glance up now and then hoping to see Dan. But there’s no sign of him. I think at one point I hear his laugh, but I’m not sure I know it well enough to make a proper positive identification.

  Kasie finishes her story, I finish my beer, and say ‘I’m going to go and get another. You want anything?’

  Kasie holds up a floral hip flask. ‘I’m OK, ta.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind another beer,’ Gemma says, smiling.

  The flat is now so full that it takes me a while to push my way through the crowd, apologising, smiling, at one point getting grabbed by some guy who’s mistaken me for someone else. Eventually I make it to the kitchen, which is almost as crammed as the living room. Anton’s sitting on the countertop with a glass of something dark. Dan’s leaning against the cupboards talking to a really handsome black guy in a pink polo shirt.

  ‘Hey!’ he says when he sees me. ‘You need another drink?’

  ‘Please. And one for Gemma too.’

  Dan twists round and then back, holding out two bottles of the same beer.

  ‘She’s great, isn’t she? Kasie? I knew you’d like her.’

  * * *

  I’m just heading back into the scrum of the main room when I feel hands on my waist.

  ‘Hey,’ Dan says again, but gently this time, and almost directly into my ear. ‘Wait here. I’ll drop those off.’

  He takes the beers and immediately shoves his way through the crowd. He took my beer. Also, last time he told me to wait for a bit he didn’t come back. It wasn’t exactly for long, but I don’t know anyone and I kind of thought I’d come to spend time with him, even if it is a party.

  But then Dan’s back, sliding his hand into mine. His fingers are cold and damp from the beer. He tugs me in the opposite direction to the front door and I let him lead me past people I haven’t seen before.

  Someone I don’t see properly says, ‘Wheyyyy, Dan! Who’s this?’

  But then Dan pushes open a door and I follow him into a bedroom.

  ‘My room,’ he says, turning round and smiling at me.

  ‘Wow.’ The room is small, square. There’s a single bed pushed up against the wall under a large window. There’s a small chest of drawers and one of those fabric wardrobes in the corner opposite the bed. Otherwise it’s totally plain. Plainer than mine. At least I’ve got a mirror.

  Music from the other room is bleeding through the wall and someone shouts ‘Come on, ya dickhead!’ from the hall.

  ‘Do you want to go back out there?’ Dan asks.

  I laugh. ‘It’s your party.’

  He shrugs. ‘I can take a break from hosting. I’ve wanted to
see you.’ He takes a couple of steps back and sits on the bed. ‘Do you want to?’

  I’m not exactly sure what he’s asking me. Do I want to sit? Do I want to do more? I figure I’ll start with sitting and see where it goes. I sit.

  ‘I’m glad you came,’ he says, reaching over and sliding his fingers between mine.

  ‘Me too,’ I say.

  He leans forward and I look at his mouth just before he presses it to mine. He’s got a nice mouth, nice lips. His tongue slides across my bottom lip and he’s already starting to lean over a bit too much, I’m tipping back towards his pillow. So not just kissing then. More than kissing. That’s OK. I let him lower me to the bed and he’s lying next to me, between me and the wall. If I wanted to, I could swing my legs off the bed and leave. But I don’t want to. Do I?

  ‘Bea,’ he says, against my neck. ‘I really like you. Can I tell you something?’

  ‘Mm-hmm.’

  ‘I was kind of testing you. Out there.’

  He pushes himself up so he’s smiling down at me. I look back at him.

  ‘Testing me how?’

  ‘I sort of left you on your own a bit on purpose. To see how you’d get on.’

  ‘OK,’ I say. I know I’m frowning. I can’t help it.

  ‘I’ve had girlfriends before who were kind of clingy, you know? I want to be with someone independent. Who doesn’t need to be, like, hanging off me all the time.’

  A test. I really don’t like the idea of a test. But I know I can be clingy. Anthony used to call me clingy. And brunch was a test, wasn’t it? And meeting Mrs C. I’m not wild about it, but I guess it makes sense.

  ‘Is that cool?’ Dan says. ‘I wouldn’t usually, it’s just… I really like you.’

  ‘I like you,’ I say. ‘It’s fine.’

  He dips his head back down and licks behind my ear. It feels weird and I almost shudder but have to suppress it. I shift slightly on the bed so his face is closer to my collarbones. I liked it when he kissed them last time. He can do that again. Instead, he moves up to kiss me again, his tongue pressing in further, curling and stroking. I realise I’m not doing anything with mine, so I slide it against his and immediately pull back.