by J. E. Warren
And this is when she hates how stupidly shallow she’s suddenly become.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Anna’s a dark horse, isn’t she? Never told us she was bringing a date with her.” Marissa grins slyly like a snake deploying its poison.
Anna begins to say, “Well, actually it’s not a date—” until she’s cut off by Charlie, who nods and confirms they’re here together, that he is in fact her date.
His wide smile and how chuffed he looks about it makes her feel awful for thinking bad things about his choice of outfit. Especially when he looks at her like she’s the only one in the room. She knows that is something that matters, deeply. Much more so than ties and pressed trousers, shiny shoes and stiff jackets.
And so she links her arm in his, and takes a deep breath. Casting out any lingering negative thoughts as Lucy and Marissa walk off.
Charlie gazes down, and then does the unexpected. Gently he buries his mouth in the crook of her neck to whisper something. She laughs into the palm of her hand at the way he says, “Well, they seem like arseholes,” and she wishes to reciprocate the gesture with her own mouth, higher up on his, but the time and place won’t allow it. Not with so many eyes gawping, watching.
“You fancy coming to get some champagne before going to huddle round some abstractly shit painting to pretend like we know what’s supposed to be so great about it?” Anna asks, stifling a fake yawn.
Charlie laughs. “You do know I studied fine art history back at university, right?”
“Oh, get you, Mr. Fancy Pants.”
“I’m an unofficial expert at differentiating between the forms. Great at stroking my chin and titling my head at such an angle, it proves without doubt I know everything there is to know about art.”
Anna’s ecstatic that he’s so good at being sarcastic. Just like her. How quick he is to play along. “Who knew you’re such an expert. Did you really study art, though?”
“No, I studied English actually. If I’m honest, the mention of the free bar sounds more appealing than staring at white walls all night, but I know you’ve got work to do, people to see.”
She won’t say it, not right at that moment, but she really loves the way he talks. She knows he’d been educated at a posh-sounding private school and has parents who own stables, acres of land, and something called a drawing room, which apparently isn’t a place to practice anything in. Still, she finds herself slack-jawed in amazement at just how well-spoken he is. Pronouncing all his words perfectly without stumbling over them, unlike her. Although sometimes it gives the unwelcome reminder that she’s too common in comparison, not nearly educated to the same degree.
Shaking off the thought that she’s not good enough for a guy like him, Anna lets out a throaty laugh and says, “What are you like, Charlie! Of course we can rinse the free bar. That’s why I invited you, silly. I just need to make one quick lap round the gallery first, and then I promise I’ll do my best to get you tipsy.”
***
After wandering aimlessly round the bright gallery to say polite hellos to guests, Anna pulls Charlie to the bar and gets him a drink. Which turns into two more, as the event begins to warm up with bodies all swarming to see the “art”.
With champagne confidence, she thinks it might be hilarious to play a little game. Just to see who can make the most absurd and silly observations about the work on show. And so like a couple of gatecrashers they invent dares for each other. She nervously watches as he takes the first cue, to make up facts about the artists exhibiting and pretend to see things in the paintings that clearly aren’t there.
When Charlie, third drink in hand, wanders over to an older couple and begins to tell them the completely implausible meaning behind a pretty bog-standard impressionist landscape piece, Anna gets the giggles. She feels like she hasn’t giggled so much in ages, and it feels wonderful. Like the stress from earlier in the night has completely been lifted from being in such great company, laughing into her champagne glass whenever he says something ridiculous, and just how he always looks over to her, eyes alight and alive.
Later, when the gallery starts to thin out, he turns to her and says. “I think I’m over this art thing now. It’s hard work being a fake critic.”
“Me too. Sure they won’t miss me for a few minutes,” Anna replies, edging away from the main foyer. She thinks it might be nice to get some alone time with him, and when he suggests they go and sit by the river, she jumps at the chance.
As she dangles her feet off the edge of the large concrete embankment, her heels down on the ground, he offers out his jacket because she’s forgotten her own and just how cold November can really be.
With the bright city lights flickering in the distance and with the vast river below them, she thanks him for sticking around, for coming.
“I enjoyed myself, surprisingly. You’re actually not bad company,” Charlie jokes as he dangles his legs over too. His arm brushes up against hers as the wind picks up.
“Thanks…” she teases back.
“I’ll have to head home soon. The last bus comes in at just before midnight.”
Anna tries to toss her hair away nonchalantly, but it gets stuck in her lip gloss. “That’s cool. I have a ton of stuff to sort out before I can leave here anyway. I’ll just get a cab with one of the other juniors.”
She’s about to say something else unimportant, like how she’s feeling exhausted from running round all day, when he slides his warm hand by the crook of her neck. As he turns to face her she shuts up, lost in admiring how his hair is swept wild by the wind, how he’s inching closer towards her with every heartbeat.
And in what feels like five hours but is really only seconds, Charlie leans in to kiss her. Softly, like he’s afraid to break something delicate. Willing her to push back a little harder with her own mouth until an easy rhythm is found.
Anna likes the way his lips feel warm and how great they taste. Finds it a strange turn on to drag her fingers through his hair and let her tongue find his. She’s certain she’s never had a kiss quite like it before, and it makes her head dizzy, her cold legs tingle. So when he gently pulls away, hand still caressing her neck, she forgives herself for wanting to express all her thoughts aloud.
Charlie gazes down at the river, like he can’t believe it all either. She wants to shout from the rooftops just how great it’d been, that he’d definitely made the right call, but her voice is caught; she’s still breathless.
After a short moment of silence and with a rush of blood to the head, slightly intoxicated and a little delirious, Anna nudges his shoulder and whispers close to his ear.
“You kiss even better than you play guitar.”
Chapter Five
Charlie
November 13th 2008
Closing up the music shop twenty minutes early gives Charlie another rush of excitement, because in less than an hour he’ll be seeing Anna again.
He waits with eagerness to see her dazzling smile and to hear her wonderful accent, hold her delicate soft hand.
The kiss from Wednesday night repeats itself over and over like a small cinema only able to show one breathtaking blockbuster at a time. In the most mundane of moments the memory of it will spring up and not let go.
He still finds it quite the feat—to have kissed her, with every fibre of his being. To have taken life by the balls, and given in to the temptation of her ruby red lips, and sweet, vanilla perfume scent.
Still, he’d being playing it down somewhat to Eddie in the days that followed. Not sure if his friend would want to hear all the details, like how it made the hair on his arms stand up or caused his trousers to feel tight.
Yet it really was something to be proud of. And even though Charlie knows it is bad to rank such things he does, the conclusion that it was the best kiss he’s ever experienced means something.
Because Anna’s soft lips have cemented themselves straight in at the number one spot, and he knows he’d be hard pressed to find anyone el
se to replace them.
Which is why when he finally catches her line of sight, outside the department store, in her leather boots and red coat, he thinks about all those names trailing behind her kiss.
His mind ends up thinking about Jenny years back. How he’d been so drunk on nerves to even speak to her or the gaggle of friends she always hung out with—the rich polo players and public school alumni.
Jenny had unsurprisingly played hard to get, and she gave him the impression she’d rather not be in his company. That was until she cornered him out on the balcony, slightly tipsy, and kissed him like her life depended on it.
It wasn’t the worst but it wasn’t at all romantic, because soon after she’d begun to suggest things he could do or should change so he could eventually win his way into her good books, and into her pants. Like having a shave and wearing different clothes, buying new shoes, and brushing his hair, which wasn’t at all romantic.
A bit like his one night stand with Lola—giver of spare change and unrelenting stares. He had once admittedly enjoyed the attention from her, liked to chat whilst playing guitar out in the rain. Lola was a friendly, somewhat pretty face to keep him from packing up and retreating home early. She was once upon a short-lived time a reason for him to stay.
Charlie’s still not really sure how it happened or why he gave in, but he did. Sleeping with her had been a mistake, a rather large one, he’d only come to realise in hindsight. He’d just been far too polite for his own good. Too worried about upsetting her to spurn all the advances she threw at him. So he listened to all her problems, and laughed along with her jokes, and he kept drinking the potent whiskey sours she made until he no longer could resist. Waking up in her bed the next day with a horrible headache and a heavy sense of regret his comeuppance.
And when it came to seeing her again out on the street, it was painful and awkward. He gave her some piss-poor excuse about being rubbish at relationships and how she’d be better off without the complications. It really wasn’t his finest hour and he’s felt guilt about it ever since.
Which is why when Anna comes bounding over and kisses his cheek, says Alright, fella? How was your day?, Charlie feels guilt creep up again for having the image of another girl in his mind.
Hoping she can’t tell, he makes a pact to lock his memories and past transgressions away. Because someone like Anna deserves all his attention and thought space.
Again she bounces on her toes and asks, “So how was your day, then?”
“It was pretty standard. The shop was quiet. Finally sold a ukulele,” he replies with a sigh.
“I really need to stop by, don’t I? I’m sure you could persuade me to buy a guitar, only if you’ll be the one giving the lessons.”
He’s really missed the sense of humour she brings and so he plays along. “Well you probably can’t afford me. I charge a small fortune for the opportunity to have these bad boys teach.” He holds up his fingers.
She laughs and grabs at them playfully. Tells him that just because he kisses like one doesn’t mean he’s God’s gift. And luckily for him she keeps laughing, and he gets to listen to her talk some more as they walk down the high street in search of a place to eat.
After a while they end up running circles, viewing restaurant menus stuck outside in the rain. They both spend ages discussing if it’s really worth spending a small fortune on getting a pizza or a curry.
It dawns on him after an hour or so that he’s really stupid to not have called and booked a table somewhere in advance. Because he’s underestimated just how hungry the city would be on a Thursday night.
“This is becoming a joke now,” Anna sighs, when they’re told again there’s no table for them in a pokey little Greek restaurant.
Charlie doesn’t answer, because he’s thinking that it might be a good idea to try the place further down the road, just off a side street. He wonders if the little Japanese noodle house will answer their starving prayers finally.
Anna taps away at her phone and then shows him a map with various dots, which he assumes are restaurants, spread out over it. He watches as she scans through each one slowly, pausing to look up at street signs.
“Right, well, we could try this steakhouse which isn’t too far from here.” When she points to her phone again he notices how her brow is set in a frown, like her face isn’t buying what her mouth’s trying to sell to him. “Although it does look a tad pricey. We’re talking no less than fifty quid for steak, and that’s without drinks or dessert.”
The mere mention of money panics him, forces his hand deeper into the empty abyss of his jean pockets because he’s aware of how little he’s got. Just a few notes and coins linger in it, along with a bankcard that’s being held hostage by a hefty overdraft—one that hasn’t yet been paid off, not until his cheque from the music shops clears or until his parents cave in to wiring him the last of his inheritance.
Charlie really hates the position he’s in, and has been stuck in for a long time. Only made worse by the immense, lingering feeling of wanting to give Anna the world but falling short on a shoestring budget.
Quick thinking and such panic leads him to hastily suggest the noodle bar, hoping it won’t leave him as red-faced and penniless as her suggestion probably would. Her expression tells him she’s not keen on the idea.
“Not really my cup of tea. Sorry.”
“Okay, it’s just that I’m actually—believe it or not—vegetarian…So it might not be the most suitable place to eat, well, at least for me,” Charlie says, hoping she’ll understand and just agree to his choice.
Anna doesn’t. “Oh right, sorry, didn’t know that obviously. It’s just I’m not a massive fan of spicy food. Been to a noodle place like that one before and it did not end well. At all, if you catch my drift.”
“That’s fine.”
“One of my friends from college used to be vegetarian. Always got sick or ill. Do you take supplements, like iron and stuff?”
He laughs, shrugs. “Sometimes. I’ve never really had any problems. Clean bill of health, at least as far as I’m aware.”
She nods. “Well, that’s good. I just don’t think I could do it—you know, like never being able to eat meat again. A bacon sandwich on a Sunday morning is one of life’s greatest pleasures.”
“I’ve had bacon before, just not for a while.”
“Wait, hold on, you still eat fish, right?”
“No, not really,” he says, feeling the urge to mimic her constant use of the word right in frustration, but he resists.
“But it’s not even a proper animal, is—” Even though Anna abruptly pauses, he’s under no illusion about what she wants to finish saying. He begins to tell her that he doesn’t like eating anything living or breathing, but she cuts him off.
“Are you just a veggie or are you one of those people who doesn’t even touch milk or eat cheese?”
“Do you mean, am I a vegan?”
“Yeah.”
“No, I’m not.”
Anna adjusts the fabric round her fingers, and he waits as she pulls at the loose threads hanging off her glove. He can’t quite believe he’s facing a tense standoff with someone as beautiful as her. Aching bellies and the desire for food causing so much unnecessary hassle. It’s an unexpected twist and one that gets him wondering if they are, in fact, quite different.
“Right, well thank God for that!” she all but shouts, obviously relieved to find out he can still eat dairy. Her reaction doesn’t offend him, as he knows she’s only hungry and bored of traipsing round bitter cold London streets too, but he feels disappointment creep over again thinking about the contrast and differences between them.
It lingers until she turns to him with a mischievous look in her eyes. She bobs up and down on her feet before taking his hand.
“I’ve figured out a solution to all our woes, Charlie!”
He’s unsure if he can deal with much more, and worries that her new suggestion will be just as fruitless, but she ke
eps pulling him to the traffic lights and further until they’re half a mile down the road.
Anna’s solution lands him inside a brightly lit supermarket, her bag thrust into his arms as she picks up a basket.
“I’m going to make us dinner instead. At mine, because Jaz isn’t home tonight and, well, it’ll be cheaper and easier, less hassle,” she explains, unbuttoning her coat. “No fighting over noodles or steak.” She winks back at him.
Before he can reply, she takes off. Down the maze of aisles, swinging her basket. He trails behind, follows wherever she goes.
And slowly the feeling of being in total awe of her comes back. What a girl, he thinks as she picks out jars and packages, her face lighting up at the dizzying array of pasta sauces like a kid in a sweet shop, unable to make a choice. Eyes wide at every possible option.
As she throws in a bag of spaghetti only to swap it for another, Charlie leans in and kisses the back of her bare neck. He resists the urge to do it again and again when she picks up a large pepper and lets it slip from her grip, which only sets of her off laughing like a complete loon.
It gets him thinking about his parents and what they’d make of her—this girl who enjoys shopping like she’s a contestant on Supermarket Sweep. He pictures his uptight mother and boorish father, older brother and little sister. How their noses would turn up at the sight of her. And it makes him want to grab Anna and kiss every inch of her, right in the chilled food aisle with all the shoppers watching.
He wonders if it’ll feel as good to see their disapproving reactions as it does just to think about it, and he wants to sing to her at the top of his lungs again, all the love songs he’s ever learnt.
“Just to be hundred percent sure, you do eat cheese, yeah?” Anna asks, her basket now chock full of food. He nods and notices a punnet of strawberries beneath the pasta and assortment of peppers. These worry him. Because he knows that strawberries are of the sexy food variety, along with whipped cream and oysters. He imagines that she’s got them in her haul to make him some fancy dessert, maybe so he can feed them to her after dinner.