If You Don't Know Me by Now

by A. L. Michael

  ‘No one really calls me Tigerlily. It’s just Tig.’

  ‘Not Lily?’

  She thought of Darren, all the bunches of lilies he’d bought for her over the years, after staying out late, missing her birthday, the text messages from other girls. Lilies were for apologies, and that wasn’t her anymore.

  ‘Nope. Just Tig.’

  ‘Or Tigger?’ he grinned.

  ‘Well, you know what the wonderful thing about Tiggers is?’

  ‘That Tiggers are wonderful things?’

  ‘No. That they will punch you in the face if you can’t get their fucking name right.’

  He drew in a sharp breath, staring at her, then burst out laughing. ‘You are a strange and terrifying lady.’

  ‘That’s what they tell me.’

  They sat quietly for a moment, listening as the faint sound of The Smiths floated around in the background.

  ‘How are you getting over this ex, then?’

  By sitting at home each night with my bitter housemate, imagining bludgeoning him to death with my bra?

  ‘Um …’

  ‘Are you dating?’ Ollie leaned forward, as if he was suddenly her therapist.

  ‘I don’t date.’

  ‘Casual sex, then?’

  Her eyebrows raised with her voice. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Well, if you’re not into dating, I assume you’re more into one-nighters,’ Ollie rationalised.

  Tig felt her stomach twist. ‘I don’t really know how to date. I was with Darren since we were fifteen. I’ve never really done the dating thing. I’m not even sure we dated when we were teenagers. You just sort of ‘hang out’ at fifteen, don’t you?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He just looked at her. ‘I guess. So … you’ve never been with anyone except him? How long were you together?’

  ‘Almost twelve years.’

  ‘Jesus,’ he said quietly, ‘so … are you not going to put yourself out there?’

  Tig paused and just looked at him, all earnest and interested, and she was angry at herself, at how bitter she’d become, because all she could do was look at him and think What game are you playing? What do you want from me?

  ‘I don’t tend to share all this crap with someone I’ve only just met.’

  ‘Sometimes that’s the best way.’

  ‘Well, it makes me feel … vulnerable.’ She scowled. ‘I don’t know anything about you.’

  He shrugged. ‘Ollie Carver. Twenty-nine and freaking out about it. I’m here for four months waiting for my next contract to start. And I am in a uniquely good position to help you change your life. Or at least re-enter the dating scene.’

  ‘Ooh, smooth.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Because you shag around a lot?’

  Ollie frowned. ‘No, smart arse. I actually married my high-school sweetheart, and had to learn to date once it was all over. I was you, three years ago.’

  ‘Oh.’ She felt her cheeks warm. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘No biggie,’ he shrugged, ‘but at least you know I get where you’re coming from. And it’s a lot easier without the whole wedding thing. You lose deposits, but you save on lawyers’ fees.’

  Tig tilted her head to look at this guy who had her spilling her guts after only meeting him a few hours before. ‘You seem so well adjusted.’

  He laughed, loudly. ‘It’s an illusion. Tigerlily, I am an absolute mess. But I live by one rule now: don’t sacrifice my life for anyone. I do what makes me happy, and I don’t give that up. No demanding girlfriends, no ultimatums, no sacrifice. No one controls me.’

  Tig tried to imagine what a life without sacrifice was like, but all she could think of was letting Ame have the last few scoops of the Haagen Dazs when she wanted them.

  ‘You’re thinking that sounds like a pretty selfish way to live, I’m guessing.’ He raised an eyebrow, leaning forward to capture her attention again. Whenever she met his eyes she was always a little startled.

  ‘Actually, I was thinking that sounds like a wonderful way to live. No obligations, no responsibilities except your own happiness. I like it, I think I’m going to steal it. How’s it working out for you?’

  Ollie’s mouth twitched. ‘A little lonely,’ he admitted. ‘Women seem to think it’s me being a typical male – I won’t go see a chick flick with them if it’s not what I want to do, but that’s not really what it’s about. I don’t mind compromise, I just won’t sacrifice what I care about.’

  Tig watched his face change, how he looked sad, indignant, and, yes, lonely. Someone had screwed him, obviously, but who was she to talk? And she certainly wasn’t at the point of prodding at someone else’s wounds, not yet anyway.

  ‘So you’ve got nothing against chick flicks?’

  ‘If anything, they are a weapon in my arsenal of tricks to get women to let me into their knickers,’ Ollie grinned. ‘I’m a sensitive guy.’

  ‘Like fuck,’ she snorted, and watched as muscles in his forearms moved. The guy was a machine, perfectly tuned. Sure, he seemed nice enough, but this was not a guy who cried, or whined when you went out with your friends, or made you feel guilty about things. Ollie was clearly a man.

  ‘I’m sensitive! I’m very good at feelings –- I knew what you needed this evening, didn’t I?’

  ‘Wine and cake? Yes, you’re a mind reader.’ She rolled her eyes.

  ‘I’m a fixer,’ he shrugged. ‘I knew what you needed tonight, and I know what you need now.’

  ‘Let me guess.’ She put on her shocked voice. ‘It’s to go home with you tonight and put on a chick flick, right?’

  ‘Ooh, look who got all defensive when she thinks someone’s trying to get into her panties,’ he snorted. ‘I’m not hitting on you. I’m offering to help you.’

  ‘With your dick,’ she snorted, almost itching for an argument. Stop punishing random men, Tigerlily, she thought to herself, shaking her head.

  ‘Hey New Guy! Little help?’ Anna at the bar called over, and he nodded, signalling to Tig that he’d be back in a minute.

  She really needed to stop being so insane. Really. The guy was trying to be nice, as far as she could tell. He’d been in the same situation as her. He knew what it was like to suddenly be an adult and have no idea how to do any of the things you’re meant to know how to do as an adult. Like have a conversation with someone who wants to sleep with you.

  This guy could teach me things, she thought, and then blacked out all the images her brain sent her way in response to that idea. He could teach her lots of things, lots of really bad things. But the point was, Ollie had survived. He’d been married, and he’d learnt how to date, and here he was, living his life on his own terms. She should be like that.

  Her head hurt just thinking about it. She looked down at the invitation again, and reached up to undo her braid, gently rubbing the roots of her red hair with her fingertips, closing her eyes as it stung with relief. It was like every uptight bit of her sat in her hair, creeping down her neck muscles. She needed to relax.

  And what was he asking of her? Nothing, as far as she could tell. He was offering advice. Maybe suggesting they hang out. He could be her Mr Miyagi, show her the wax-on, wax-off of the heart.

  That was the saddest thing, she thought – that she didn’t know how to trust men anymore. She couldn’t read the signals, the intentions. She’d spent so long being sweet, chubby Lily with all the boy mates that the minute she got confident and Darren left, she was just … shell-shocked.

  Matt had been the main one, one of their oldest friends, since secondary school. He was going to be the best man at their wedding. When he found out Darren had ended it, he’d been so sweet, all those text messages letting her know he was still her friend, he was still there for her, that things between them hadn’t changed. He’d come round, with wine and Chinese food and let her cry on him for an hour … and then put his hand down her top and tried to kiss her. She supposed she should have felt flattered, but really she just felt sick. The rest of the lads had turned on her after that
, calling her a prick tease, thinking she was too good for them since she’d become a ‘skinny bitch’. She didn’t know how getting healthy and getting dumped made her the bad guy. And now Darren was doing it all over again. She downed the rest of the wine, and put her head on the table, so very tired of everything.

  She needed a change. No more Misery Dinners. No more Darren. No more anger and bitterness. She had to let a little light in. After a night of swearing and violently vomiting up sambuca, obviously.

  ‘I was thinking we might be the answer to each other’s problems.’ Ollie reappeared and sat down opposite her. She slowly lifted her head off the table, and opened one blurry eye to look at him.

  ‘Owls blat?’

  ‘What?’

  Tig took a deep breath and tried again, enunciating clearly. ‘How’s that?’

  ‘Well,’ Ollie leaned in, hands moving all over the place, ‘you need a nice, non-grabby fella to lead you into the dating world, show you the ropes, right?’

  Tig shrugged.

  ‘And I need someone to stop my crazy neighbour from trying to get into my pants. Or wearing my pants. Or rolling around in a big pile of my pants.’ Ollie shook the image away. ‘You could help with that.’

  ‘You want me to beat a bitch up?’ Tig frowned, slurring slightly. ‘I mean, I could. I kick-box a lot and I could really do with releasing my aggression right now but I don’t think it’s a good idea, Ollie, really.’ She patted his wrist and smiled. ‘I’m sorry.’

  He seemed to be visibly asking for patience, or mercy, or counting to ten, but when he looked at her his eyes were crinkled at the edges and he was smirking.

  ‘I wasn’t asking you to beat her up, Drunky McDrunkerson, but it’s good to know you have my back. I just meant, you need a fake boyfriend, I need a fake girlfriend, so … how about it?’

  Tig wrinkled her nose. ‘Well, that’s in my top three most romantic invitations. Just behind “Who’s a sexy monkey?” and “Roll over”. Cheers, though.’ Tig delicately moved as if to grab her coat, leaning heavily on the table.

  ‘I’m not trying to shag you! I’m trying to be your friend!’ Ollie said, standing as well.

  Tig sobered up quite a bit in that moment. ‘That’s what they all say. They’re your mate, and they’re your fiance’s mate, and then you lose weight, and your fiance dumps you, and all the guys who used to be your friend only care about fucking you. So excuse me if I don’t believe the random guy I met this evening about his intentions. I knew those guys for ten years, and they still screwed me over.’

  Tig desperately wanted to make a smooth exit, frantically pushing her arm into the armhole of her coat, which seemed to have tangled in on itself. She finally pushed her arm through, and managed to hit Ollie in the nose.

  ‘Oh. my God! I’m so sorry!’

  Ollie blinked a few times, hand over his face. ‘It’s fine. You really owe me a fake date now, though. What with the assault and everything.’

  Tig was exhausted of all this. All she wanted was to get outside, grab a cab, eat a greasy burger and cry very quietly in her room at home. In Ame’s home.

  ‘Tell me why I should even be bothered considering this,’ she said blankly. ‘You have five minutes. I’m drunk and upset and if I don’t eat a burger soon I’m going to hit someone.’

  Ollie pressed his lips together. ‘Good to know what I’m getting into. Food important. Right.’ He took a deep breath, looking down at her with those fuzzy green eyes, all intense and earnest.

  ‘I promise, I swear to you, no matter what, I won’t try to have sex with you. I literally just want to help you. I’ve been where you are, it’s scary going out into the dating scene when you’ve never done it.’ He scratched his head. ‘And yeah, I want someone to keep this nutter at bay for the last few months I’m here. Plus, I’m a good time! I’m really good at dating, at planning fun stuff and I think you’d have a good time. I just … I’d like someone to spend my time here with, and leave with no regrets.’

  Tig fell into her chair with a thud, looking up at him. ‘Are you in sales, by any chance? I feel like a little devilish minion is about to present a contract at any minute, and I’ll have to sign over my soul in my own blood.’

  ‘Really? A guy saying he’d quite like to take you out and get to know you for a few months is satanic in your eyes?’ Ollie slumped down in the chair again. ‘Anyone ever tell you you’re hard work?’

  ‘All the time,’ she said, thinking of Darren. Of how he used to stop talking to her when she argued back, because I’m not going to interact with children, Lily. If you want to talk you use your inside voice. That bastard.

  ‘Look, if you don’t want someone to teach you how to date, and how to move forward, then what do you want?’

  ‘Why me for this?’ Tig asked suddenly. ‘You could pick up any pretty girl in here. No, don’t look like that – you’re cocky enough to know you’re cute. So why me?’

  Ollie grinned. ‘Because you’re completely unaffected by my charms. And because any of those girls wouldn’t know it was fake. Or they’d pretend to be okay with it, and it would all get dramatic, and I hate drama. I’d thought from what you said earlier … I thought it would be mutually beneficial, that’s all.’

  Tig looked down at the table, because at least the table wasn’t looking at her with wounded, puppy dog eyes and wanting her to make a decision.

  ‘What if I say no? Will you trawl for another heartbroken and pathetic girl whose ex is getting married?’

  ‘No, I’ll probably just unpack my Xbox,’ Ollie grinned. ‘Come on, there must be something you want?’

  You naked on my kitchen table? Tig’s mind betrayed her cruelly and she glared at him, because, obviously, this was all his fault.

  ‘When do you leave London?’

  ‘Beginning of November,’ Ollie replied seamlessly.

  She thought about it. It was only July now, and that envelope in her bag demanded she be the bigger person. Tig smiled at him suddenly, scanning his bright smile in response, how his shirt stretched across his biceps and his jeans hung on his waist. If she turned up with Ollie there was no way anyone would think she wasn’t the happiest girl on earth.

  ‘I know what I want,’ she said.

  ‘Tell me.’

  Tig pulled the envelope back out of her bag. ‘I want you to go to this with me, as my date.’

  Ollie winced. ‘Really?’

  ‘Isn’t that what fake boyfriends do? Or should I buy myself a gigolo?’ Tig snapped.

  ‘And now I’m getting the reason for the kick-boxing,’ Ollie said to himself. ‘Okay. I think it’s a bad idea. But okay. It’s two days before I leave. If you still want to go in November, I’ll take you.’

  Tig pouted. ‘Shake on it.’

  ‘You think I’m a liar?’

  ‘I think we should have a contract written up and a lawyer present, but to be honest all I’m thinking about now is cheese on toast.’ Tig whined a little at the thought of it. Bed and food, and none of this craziness.

  Ollie reached across the table to her, and held her hand in his. ‘I promise to show you the dating world, I promise never to sleep with you, and I promise to take you to your ex’s wedding even though it’s the worst idea in the history of bad ideas.’ They shook, but Ollie kept hold of her. ‘Now you.’

  ‘I promise to pretend to be your girlfriend to keep your crazy neighbour away and I promise not to hit her … well, I can’t say that, I haven’t met her yet, but I shall try to keep all drama to a minimum.’ They shook again.

  ‘Okay,’ Ollie said. ‘All official, pookie.’

  Tig groaned. ‘Should have put that in the bloody contract.’

  ‘Also, there’s an escape clause. You change your mind at any time, that’s cool.’

  ‘And if you change your mind …?’ Tig panicked.

  ‘I will still take you to the wedding. I mean, I’m going to try to persuade you it’s the worst idea ever, but if you still want to go by the time it come
s around, I’ll take you.’ He smiled. ‘I’ll walk you out.’

  It made sense, she thought. This was a good idea. She reached for her phone and called a cab, sure it would probably be Sergei, who had often taken her home after a few too many in Kings Cross. Comforting, routine. Even in the city, she could rely on things staying the same. She looked at Ollie, blond hair gleaming in the lamplight, looking strong and impossibly gorgeous. They leaned against the railings, waiting for her cab.

  ‘So, what’s the deal with the neighbour? Couldn’t tell a pretty girl no? You had to create an elaborate scheme?’

  ‘You haven’t met her.’ He held up his hands. ‘She’s been waiting for me to get home every night. I’ve only been there four days! She’s nuts! She baked me a cake with her hair in!’

  Tig frowned. ‘It happens … wait, are you trying to say she purposefully moulted in your pudding? Because you sound a little paranoid.’

  Ollie raised his eyebrows and grinned. ‘You’ll see! I don’t usually accost young women on my first night of a new job because I’m scared of my twenty-two-year-old neighbour!’

  ‘Twenty-two!’

  ‘I’m glad you agreed, because I told her I was seeing someone.’

  ‘What exactly did you say?’ Tig asked, worried she’d have to adopt a false identity and pretend to be a doctor. Actually, that sounded like a lot of fun, being someone else for a few months.

  ‘I said my girlfriend’s really hot and her name’s Tigerlily. It was really lucky I met you tonight.’ Ollie winked and she pinched his arm.

  A car horn beeped and Tig saw a hand waving out of a black cab across the road. Sure enough, Sergei stuck his head out. ‘Bit early tonight, Lily, you’re getting old!’

  ‘And boring!’ she waved back.