by Lacey London
‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were meeting up with him!’ Lianna shrieks and snatches the last of the hash brown before I have chance to make a grab for it. ‘What was he like?’
I smile and consider my reply carefully, ‘He was a really nice guy. Funny, confident, cute. I had a really good time.’
She studies my face for a second before slamming her hands down on the table.
‘Oh my God. You spent the night with him!!’
Unable to talk with a mouth full of greasy potato, I have to respond with a violent shake of the head. Hurriedly swallowing and burning my throat in the process, I raise my hands in protest.
‘No, Lianna, I absolutely did not.’ I give her the most sincere look I can muster and hope she takes the bait.
‘Yeah, right.’ She laughs wickedly. ‘Spill.’
I stare at her in disbelief. How can she always tell when I am lying? Am I that bad an actress? Sighing in defeat, I twirl my hair around my fingers and try to find the words to make this not sound cheap.
‘OK. I did. But it wasn’t like it sounds! I did stay at his place, but we did not, you know, do it. I swear.’
‘Go on,’ she screws up her sandwich wrapper and throws it in the bin behind her.
‘We met at Ice Bar, this indie bar in Greenton. One drink became six and six drinks led to tequilas and before I knew it, it had gone two in the morning.’
She crosses her legs and purses her lips, ‘That still doesn’t explain why you stayed over.’
‘Come on, you know how far it is to Greenton! The taxi queue was around the block, he had a spare room so you know, it made sense.’
‘Hmm, one protests too much…’ Lianna winks and picks up her handbag. ‘Only joking. I believe you. Come on.’
I grab my coffee and follow her out into the car park.
‘Fancy a trip into town? Might as well make the most of being up so early.’
The last thing I feel like doing is traipsing around town when I’m sleep deprived with a headache, but on the other hand, I don’t want to be stuck in the house like a crazy cat lady.
‘Go on then.’ I chuck my cup into the bin, knowing Lianna would rather chop her eyelids off than let me take a coffee into her sparkling new BMW. I fasten my belt and brace myself for Lianna’s wacky races driving.
Collapsing on my bed later that evening, I pour the contents of my shopping bag out onto the floor. Hangover shopping is never a good idea. All my usual bargain hunter traits have gone right out of the window. I pick up my favourite purchase of the day, a beautiful, turquoise, leather, biker jacket and rip off the tags. I give it pride of place in my wardrobe and dig the receipt out of my purse. Without giving it a second glance, I tear it up and drop it in the bin along with the tags. I’ve always hated receipts, they remind me of little death certificates for the money that you no longer have. How morbid.
I wander into the kitchen and head straight for the medicine cabinet. Popping a couple of ibuprofen and washing them down with a glass of water, I pad into the living room and stretch out on the sofa. Thank God for Nurofen. Tequila hangover plus Lianna’s horrific driving makes for one monster migraine. I must admit, the retail therapy did manage to take the edge off, just a little bit.
I haven’t heard from George since he dropped me off this morning. Not wanting to be the first one to text, I’ve tried to avoid looking at my phone in order to not give in to temptation. Thinking back to last night brings an idiotic smile to my face. Champagne cocktails followed, by dancing and a huge chicken kebab makes for one very happy Clara. The hangover, not so much. I have been absolutely shattered all day. After my late night on Friday with Oliver and last night’s epic antics with George, my mental battery is in desperate need of a recharge.
Once I have ensured all doors are locked, twice due to my incessant OCD, I pull on some pyjamas and snuggle up under the duvet. Mmm, it feels so good to be back in my own bed. Stretching my legs and flicking off the light, I wrap my arms around my pillow. It can’t be past nine but my eyes are already closing.
Beep! Beep!
Groaning, I roll out of bed and grab my phone from the charger, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the bright screen.
It’s George!
Hope your head hasn’t been as bad as mine today.We will have to do it again sometime, but maybe with coffee and not tequila Speak soon George xxx
My fingers turn to butter and I drop my phone on the floor with a clatter. Whether it’s with excitement or exhaustion, I really don’t know and I don’t think I can stay awake long enough to find out.
Chapter 17
I am happily munching my way through a foot long Subway sandwich when Rebecca appears at the studio doors. Prising myself away from my delicious steak baguette, I wipe my hands on a grubby napkin and beckon her to come in.
‘Hi, Clara,’ she fidgets with her blouse and looks around the room awkwardly.
‘Hi,’ I follow her gaze, trying to work out what has gotten into her. ‘Everything OK?’
‘Marc asked me drop these in for you.’
I take the envelope and look inside dubiously. My adrenaline hits an all time high as I pull out two train tickets and an accommodation voucher for a hotel in the centre of Manchester. Trying to act nonchalant, I pop them back in and drop them onto the work top.
‘That’s great, thanks Rebecca.’ I smile and wait for her to leave, only she seems frozen to the spot.
‘Hi Oliver!’ Rebecca springs to life in a bubble of giggles and hair flicks.
I spin around to see Oliver pushing his way through the door, arms laded with folders and brochures. Oh my God. She fancies him! I feel so jealous I’m surprised my skin doesn’t turn green. He offers her a tight smile and simply nods in response. Relieved that her crush doesn’t seem to be a two way thing, I turn my attention back to Rebecca.
‘Was there anything else Rebecca?’ I smile through gritted teeth and lean on the door handle, hoping the subliminal messaging gets through.
‘No, nothing else.’ She smiles shamelessly at Oliver before backing out of the room and scurrying off down the hall.
Seemingly totally oblivious to Rebecca’s advances, Oliver takes a seat at the work table and eyes up my sandwich.
‘You finished with this?’ He asks as he pulls it towards him and rolls up his sleeves.
Laughing at his pure arrogance, I snatch the baguette back and take a huge bite.
‘Didn’t your parents teach you to share?’ He chases me around the table and wrestles it from my grip.
‘Here! Take it.’ I surrender and hold it out to him, my sides aching with laughter.
We lock eyes and I feel my heart jump into my mouth. Tearing my eyes away, I brush myself down and hand him the envelope.
‘So, Rebecca brought these down.’ I watch as he studies the tickets and accommodation voucher before putting them back in the envelope.
‘I don’t think so,’ he shakes his head and pulls out his laptop. ‘We are not travelling three hours for some two bit motel. Leave it with me, I’ll sort it out.’
Two bit motel? I take the voucher and scan down to the residency details. Marc has booked us in at the Governors hotel. I do a quick Google search on my phone. It’s not too bad, granted it isn’t the Ritz, but I have stayed in worse. I contemplate defending the hotel for a second, but stop myself just in time. A little bit of me wants to see what he can come up with.
‘Good weekend?’ Oliver asks, pulling up his emails.
Before I can stop it, my cheeks flush purple and I feel weirdly guilty.
‘Um, yes, I did. You?’
‘I did as it happens. Moved into my new place, went on a date, did a little car shopping.’
Date? He went on a date? Who with?
‘Date?’ My voice is strangely high pitched.
I try to remind myself that I also went on a date. Not that it matters to me who Oliver dates.
‘Yeah, real nice English girl, we had fun.’
‘Lovely,’ I respond, trying not to sound bitter.
‘She was. Took her to this little French place, lobster, fine wine, really pushed the boat out.’ He leans back in his seat and folds his arms behind his head.
Wait a minute. Is he talking about me?
‘What do you say, Clara? Do you think that would warrant a second date?’
He is talking about me! It wasn’t a date! He never said it was a date! What do I say? Feeling truly embarrassed, I pick up the fabric samples and get to work on choosing a lace overlay for some ankle boots.
‘What do you think of this Chantilly lace?’ I push the book towards him and try to pretend I haven’t heard him.
‘Geez, you English girls are so uptight! Lighten up!’ he laughs and shakes his head, taking the sample book from me and feeling the fabric.
‘I like it. Call the company and see what they can do on it. We need a nude and a maroon.’
Picking up the book and opening my emails, I begin to type out a message. I can’t believe he thought we were on a date! Well to be fair, I kind of did too, I just didn’t want to admit it. After the weekend, I really like George but Oliver has something about him that draws me in. Like he’s the spider and I’m the fly, caught up in his tangled web.
Peeking at Oliver from behind my screen, I can’t help but mentally compare the two men in my life. George is so lovely, funny and kind. Exactly the type of man you would be proud to take home to your parents. Oliver on the other hand, is enigmatic, intriguing and frankly, a bit of an ass. Exactly the man your parents warned you about. On paper it seems like a no brainer, where as in reality, I want to have my cake and eat it too.
If only I could merge the two and create my very own Superman. Turning my attention back to my email I find myself wondering, is it really that terrible to date two men at once? At twenty seven, I am well within my rights to play the field, but is it possible to play the field, without becoming a player?
After a ridiculously hectic afternoon, it must be gone midnight when I finally fall into bed. I may have been run off my feet, but today has been quite a success. Not only have I secured a fantastic deal with Martin’s for a shed load of lace, I also managed to squeeze in a coffee with Marc and Lianna and arranged a date with George for Wednesday night. Things seem to going rather well at the moment.
Chapter 18
After locking up the studio on Tuesday afternoon, I make a quick trip to the little girl’s room, before heading to the car to wait for Lianna. As a result of breaking two nails, we had arranged at lunch for a late night manicure and a bite to eat in town. Silently cursing her lateness, I turn on the heaters and rub my hands together for warmth. I secretly love winter, dark nights, mulled wine and chunky jumpers. Bring it on.
‘Hi! Sorry I’m late!’ Lianna swings open the car door and throws her handbag onto the back seat before climbing in.
‘Do you have to treat your bag so badly?’ I wince looking at the scuffed red leather that was once so pretty.
‘I am starving! Where are we eating?’ She pulls out her highlighter and begins to touch up her already perfect complexion.
‘When are you not starving? And we are manicuring first and then eating.’
She pulls a sad face and fiddles with the radio.
‘How have things been with Mr. Morgan? When Marc told me about the Manchester exhibition I thought he was joking!’
‘It’s no big deal!’ I say, trying to play it down before she blows it way out of proportion. ‘It is purely educational.’
‘Whatever, let’s see if you’re still saying that on Monday.’
I turn the radio up in a bid to drown out any background Lianna noise but she immediately turns it back down.
‘When are you seeing George again?’ She demands, turning in her seat to face me.
‘Tomorrow. We are going for coffee after work.’ I can’t help but smile as Li screeches with excitement.
‘I want to meet him!’
‘Absolutely not! We have only had one date!’
We pull up outside the nail salon and Lianna jumps out before I even have chance to apply the hand break.
‘Are we having pedicures too?’
‘Yeah, OK.’ I slam the car door shut and press the key fob.
‘I thought it was just educational?
Two sets of hot pink toes and a couple of French manicures later, we are sat in Pizza Express looking over the menu. Lianna has taken advantage of having a designated driver and is already knocking back a frosty glass of prosecco before we have even placed our order.
‘Should we get some garlic bread?’ I ask, sipping on my Diet Coke miserably whilst eyeing up the prosecco.
‘Have you seriously just asked me that question?’ She rolls her eyes and beckons over the waiter.
Once we have placed our orders and Lianna has her prosecco replenished, we return to the subject of men.
‘So, what has been keeping you occupied in the office without me there anyway?
‘What do you mean?’ Lianna’s cheeks immediately flush a violent shade of red.
‘I think you know full well what I mean!’ I fire back, not willing to back down.
She shakes her head and looks away before slamming her drink down on the table.
‘OK, don’t make a big deal out of it, but I have been speaking to Dan again. Nothing has happened, it’s just talking.’
I stare at her in disbelief before raising my eyebrows, not quite knowing what to say. Lianna and Dan were an item for well over a year and to say she was smitten would be an understatement. They were a perfect example of loves young dream. Weekends away in Paris, surprise picnics in the park, they even went as far as exchanging house keys before Dan got cold feet. It is not as though Dan isn’t a nice guy, he really is. It’s just that he has a past history of doing this. From Sarah on reception to Jessica over in HR, he has quite the reputation for being a jack the lad.
‘OK,’ I respond slowly, not quite knowing what the right thing to say is.
‘I know what you are thinking, but he has changed! I swear he has!’ She reaches out and touches my arm. ‘I know what I am doing, don’t worry.’
I offer her a tight smile and bite my lip. I know Lianna can handle herself, but I also know that Dan hurt her more than anyone else ever has.
‘Just be careful. Don’t fall too hard, too fast.’
She squeezes my arm and smiles gratefully, just as the garlic bread is placed down on the table.
Thanking the waiter, I rip off a huge chunk and devour it in record time. Totally worth the saturated fat. Looking at my best friend, I can’t help but smile. She does look happier than I have seen her in a long time. Her cheeks are rosy and her eyes are sparkling. I knew there was a man involved somewhere down the line. It’s just that I would have chosen anyone for her but Dan.
A little part of me feels bad for judging Lianna, I mean, who am I judge someone else’s love life when I am in a bit of a pickle myself. When I was younger, I used to think that dating would be easy. The fact of the matter is, the older you get, the more you realise it is just a minefield. A minefield that could explode at any minute and only the lucky ones make it to the end in one piece. I wonder what our chances are of making it to the end without a broken bone, or even worse, a broken heart.
Chapter 19
I spend an extra half an hour on Wednesday morning choosing my outfit and as a result, my bedroom looks like department store vomit. Why can’t I choose an outfit the night before and stick to it? Turning around in the mirror, I check out my selection. After a lot of dressing and undressing, I settled on a pair of skinny, tailored trousers with a fitted blazer over a cream, loose fitting blouse. I kick my way through the piles of viscose and leather covering the floor and head for the kitchen.
Hurriedly buttering a slice of toast and swallowing a multi vitamin, I chuck the essentials into my handbag and check my phone. George and I have been texting back forth for days now and I feel like I am really starting to g
et to know him. Despite only meeting him once, he has really opened up to me. Over a series of text messages, I have found out that he is one of five siblings, him being the only boy. His family are from Essex, he has a degree in History that he has never used and is currently doing bar work whilst contemplating his next career move. Now these may sound like boring facts to some, but every time my phone pings, my stomach drops to my feet. Before slamming the door shut, I give my lips one last slick of ruby red and make for the car.
As I crawl around the office car park trying to find somewhere to park, I see Oliver pulling his Audi into an impossibly small space and wave my arms around manically trying to get his attention. Oblivious to the crazy octopus lady, he climbs out of the car and throws his bag over his shoulder. I swing my car into an adjacent space and peek in my rear view mirror. Wait a minute, is he with someone? I rip my keys out of the ignition and I’m about to run over when I stop dead in my tracks. He is with someone. A pretty, petite, blonde someone. Rebecca. I feel my blood run cold as I watch them laughing and joking as they head into the building. What is he doing with Rebecca? Why are they coming into work together? God, I feel sick.
I must be frozen on the spot for a good few minutes before I pull myself together and make my way over to the office. I deliberately hover outside the lift until I can be sure they are well out of earshot and jab the button repeatedly, willing the doors to open so I can jump in and disappear.
Once safely inside, I stare at my reflection in the lift mirror and pinch my cheeks in a desperate bid to bring some colour back to my face. The lift doors bounce open and I hesitantly step out and drag my feet towards the studio. Plastering a smile onto my face, I am just about to push open the door when I hear Rebecca’s muffled voice coming from inside. What! Is she in there with him?
In a desperate bid to hear what is going on, I press my ear up to the door and listen carefully. All I can hear are muffles! Frustrated I reach for the handle, just as the door swings open and Rebecca flounces out.