by Louise Bay
“Really, Jules, that’s just too many compliments at one time. I’m blushing.”
“You know what I mean.”
It was a good thing Jules and I had been friends for as long as we had. She could get away with talking to me like that. And she wasn’t so wrong.
“And who said I wanted to marry the guy? Let’s just find someone hot.”
“Making up for lost time, I see. That’s my girl.” Jules was right again. Eight years of lost time. “What about this one? He sounds nice. Accountant, good-looking, sporty. What’s not to like? Wink at him! He’s online now.” Oh Jesus. Was I really going to do this? “There I’ve done it for you.”
Jules winked at three more guys and then gossip took over.
“So my new boss’ boss is totally hot,” she said.
“The married guy?”
“Just because he’s married, Ava, doesn’t mean he’s not hot.”
“Yes, but it does mean that you shouldn’t be thinking he’s hot.”
“Why not? I’m not saying I’m going to start dry humping him at team meetings. I just think he’s hot. No big deal.” But it was a big deal. Jules had had an affair with a married man before and, big surprise, it hadn’t ended well. She shrugged it off now, but at the time she was broken. It had been heartbreaking to watch. She really thought she was going to marry the guy—when he left his wife, that was.
“And, anyway, with Joel back in town, I’ll have plenty to distract me this summer.” Jules grinned from ear to ear. Nausea washed over me. Jules and Joel together would be my worst nightmare.
“So he’s not bringing a wife or girlfriend?” Was that subtle?
“Not from what Adam was saying. I think he’s pretty wrapped up in his business, and now that it’s gone global he wants to be based in London. I don’t think he’d move if he had commitments in New York. Right?”
“I guess.”
“You guys were close at Uni, weren’t you? Haven’t you spoken to him at all?” I felt myself redden at Jules’ question. How did I answer without giving anything away?
“Not spoken to him for ages,” I mumbled.
“But you were close, though? You had such a crush on him!”
“What are you talking about? We were study buddies!” I got up to go to the fridge to get some more wine, hoping to change the course of the conversation.
“You so did! Oh my god. I remember now!” Jules was bouncing in her seat. “Didn’t you kiss him in that nightclub at Adam’s 21st Birthday?”
“What? You’re delusional. Like you’d remember anything from that night. We were all completely hammered. You slept on your doorstep.”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Oh my god, yes, you were trying to get away from Adam because you’d shagged him and left him lovesick.”
“Shut up. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I had part of my brain removed so I didn’t have to remember that particular disaster.”
I giggled at the memory.
“Saved by the bell. Will the accountant from Holland Park just winked back at you.”
Three glasses of wine convinced me it was a good idea for Will and me to meet up later that week for a drink when he asked me over email. And when Bruce, an architect from Hoxton, suggested drinks on Wednesday, I thought in for a penny, in for a pound and said yes straight away, much to Jules’ shock. Two dates in one week. Operation: Get Over Joel was in full flow.
***
Tuesday came around really quickly and before I knew it I was headed for a bar in Soho to meet Will. It felt like business.
I saw him as soon as I entered the bar. He wasn’t twenty years older than his photo suggested, so that was promising. Tick. He looked up and his eyes found mine. He smiled and stood up. He was tall. Tick.
“Ava?”
“Yes. Will?” Ava and Will, Ava and Will? Did it sound right in my head? It didn’t sound wrong. Tick.
He leaned toward me and kissed both cheeks.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked.
“Sure, what are you having?”
“A beer, but I’m happy to share a bottle of wine if you’d like. Have a look at the list.”
Likes wine. Tick.
“Ok, that sounds good.” Did I want to commit to a whole bottle? Don’t over think it. “You choose.”
“Red or white?”
“Don’t mind. I’ll leave it to you.”
“Oh, is this my first test?” he asked. I looked up and found Will grinning at me and I couldn’t help but return his smile.
“Not your first,” I deadpanned.
“Oh, I see. How am I doing so far?” he asked, still grinning.
“All test results are confidential until the end of the evening.” My smile was genuine.
“Ok, playing it cool. I can work with that.”
“You like tests?”
“I’m an accountant. The only people who sit more tests than we do are lawyers. We have to like tests. Right? I’ve never failed one yet.”
Doesn’t take himself too seriously. Flirty. Tick, tick.
The waitress was at our table. “We’ll have a bottle of the New Zealand 1996 pinot noir.” He looked at me while he ordered. He was confident that this was a test he would pass. He was right. Not a cheap bottle, but not the most expensive. Not an obvious choice if you were trying to impress. Tick.
The conversation was easy between us. I had no expectations and I wasn’t trying to pass any test that he was giving me.
“So, have you been single for long?” I asked the question that I didn’t really want anyone to ask me.
“About nine months. You?”
“Longer.”
“Longer?”
“Yup. What happened with your breakup?”
“Are we ready for the previous relationship talk?”
“Do we not do that on a first date? It’s been a while. You’ll have to refresh my memory of the rules.”
“I think technically it’s frowned upon, but hey, let’s go crazy.”
“You’re a Prince fan?”
“Of course, aren’t you?”
I laughed. “Isn’t everyone?”
“So your previous girlfriend, did she find out you were an axe murderer?”
“No, that’s a secret I hope to take to my grave. We just were going in different directions. We’re still friends, though.”
“Still friends? Really? Is that possible?”
“Well, we didn’t cheat on each other. I can’t say we didn’t hurt each other, but we got out before it got too bad.” That sounded, I don’t know, healthy or something. I wasn’t sure if it was a trick or if he was lying to me. Maybe he wanted her back and Internet dating was just a distraction, but from the glass house I was sitting in, I wasn’t about to throw stones. We continued to swap stories until our glasses were drained dry.
“Do you want another bottle?” Will asked. How did we drink a whole bottle?
“Are we finished already?”
“Time flies.”
“It’s true. It does and I did—have fun, that is—but let’s quit while we’re ahead.” I smiled. I’d really enjoyed the evening.
“Does this mean I failed your tests?”
“No, it means I have an early morning.”
“Can I take you to dinner another time to discuss my results?”
“You can take me to dinner another time …”
He grinned. “Is the weekend too soon?”
“I can do Sunday night.”
“Ok. I’ll text you.”
I smiled all the way home. This wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
When I got home, I logged on and found I’d been winked at a couple of times. A mixture of the pinot noir and the thought that this dating thing might actually be quite fun led to me agreeing to two more dates. I was on a roll.
***
Wednesday night shattered my illusions that dating was going to be fun. When I first arrived, I didn’
t immediately see Bruce. He had lost a lot of hair since his profile picture had been taken. Some men can carry that off, but Bruce wasn’t one of them. He’d clearly not gotten the universal memo sent out to all men annually since 1990 explaining that if you suffered from hair loss, you have to cut it very, very short. That, combined with the fact that an hour in and I’d not yet found a sense of humor, meant that Bruce wasn’t the date of the century.
How long do I have to stay before I can leave?
“Aves?” my mind had wandered. What had he been talking about? And why was he calling me Aves?
“Sorry?”
“Am I boring you?” He was getting haughty. I’d clearly upset him.
“No, sorry, I’m just distracted. It’s been a difficult day.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, being a lawyer is so much more stressful than being an architect.”
Was I being rude or was he? “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to imply anything.”
“I need to loosen you up. Let’s get another drink inside you.” He snapped his fingers to get the attention of a waitress and that was my cue—dull was acceptable and he could always cut his hair, but if he was the kind of man who was snapping his fingers at anyone, he wasn’t the man for me.
“I’m afraid I can’t stay, Bruce. I’m going to have to head off.”
“Jesus. What a waste of a night. You’re a bitch. No wonder you’re single. And don’t think I’m paying for that glass of wine you’ve drunk.” He was making this way too easy for me.
“It’s been a pleasure, Bruce.” I fished out a twenty from my purse, laid it on the table, and walked out. I knew this Internet dating thing couldn’t be as easy as the previous evening had made it seem.
I took advantage of a quiet spell at work, and the week I had to Get Over Joel, and crammed in two more dates before the weekend rolled around. I shouldn’t have bothered. Andrew was okay. Okay if you could forgive him the fact that his voice made David Beckham sound like a baritone. And then there was that part of the evening when he spoke to my chest. And when I say “that part of the evening,” I mean the entire evening. I may have great boobs, but I like a man to look at my face for at least part of our first conversation.
The final date of the week was with David. David lived with his mother. I wanted to be open minded, I really did, but to live with your mother at 35? He explained that it was only temporary while he found a place to buy, but they’d clearly been living together for years. Come on. Your mother?
Will was definitely the best of a bad bunch. He was funny, charming. He had a job and his own teeth. What more could a girl wish for?
Chapter Three
Past
The ten minute post-kiss walk to the library seemed to be over in about ten seconds. I had to hold myself back from reaching across to touch him. I wanted to fast forward and find out what happened next. I had so many questions: Was the kiss a one-off? What were his inappropriate thoughts?
We found our desk and set up our laptops as usual. I couldn’t risk a glance in Joel’s direction. I was sure my thoughts were written all over my face. I must concentrate on studying. It took me ages to settle down, but eventually I focused on my thesis and I genuinely jumped several hours later when another scrunched up piece of paper hit my keyboard. Joel was grinning at me when I looked up. He pointed at my computer and mouthed “email” at me. My stomach flipped over.
J: You wanna grab lunch?
He’d written it over an hour ago. I looked back at him, trying desperately to suppress my grin. I half-nodded and shrugged my shoulders. Joel started typing and another email popped up
J: Is that a yes?
A: Yes that’s a yes. You want it in writing?
J: I thought lawyers liked everything in writing.
A: Yes, but I’m the lawyer.
J: Good point. You’re going to be an excellent one. Let’s go.
I looked up and found Joel grinning at me, clearly pleased at his teasing. I rolled my eyes and started to get my stuff together for lunch. I had to assume the kiss was a one-off right? We were friends and were spending a lot of time together, so lines were crossed sometimes. Right? Nothing to get excited about, please move along. At least it wasn’t going to be weird. He had asked me to lunch, so we were still friends. I took a deep breath and we headed out.
The library cafeteria was crammed. Everyone started Monday with good studying intentions, it seemed. We fought our way through the crowds and Joel spotted a table in the corner by the windows where we set down our trays.
“Wow, it’s busy.”
Joel nodded, his mouth full of lasagna.
“Hey, Joel.” One of the rugby players had found us. A constant stream of interruptions was normal when we were in the café. Of course, none of them were here to speak to me. I got the odd “Hey” or a nod, but generally I was ignored, which was fine by me. After various discussions of what the plan was for a party later in the week, it was just Joel and me again and a busy cafeteria.
“So, I enjoyed kissing you this morning,” he said. I had just taken a bite of my apple. God I was going to choke. He enjoyed kissing me this morning? I raised my eyebrows and gave a half-nod, unable to speak—and not only because my mouth was full.
Joel grinned. “Was that I enjoyed kissing you, too, in Ava-speak?”
I swallowed and grinned back at him. “You want it in writing?”
Joel tipped his head back and gave a full throaty laugh. I felt great that I could make him laugh like that. “Come on let’s go.”
***
The next morning, Joel didn’t pick me up, which was normal for a Tuesday—something about the Modern History of European Macroeconomics—but I was still disappointed. He’d left the library the previous afternoon for hockey practice. Part of me hoped that he would skip lectures this morning and come and kiss me again. But without Joel to distract me, I quickly buried myself in work.
I felt him before I saw him. My skin tightened all over. A few seconds later, his bag landed on his desk opposite mine. I grinned that I’d sensed his presence and looked up under my lashes at him. He was grinning back. He had my favorite blue T-shirt on and his hair was particularly scruffy today. I knew that was a sign that he had been thinking hard. His hair always took the brunt. As Joel unpacked his backpack, I kept trying to suppress my smile, but it kept popping back up. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joel grinning to himself as well.
It took all my energy to refocus on my work, but knowing where Joel was settled me. I was so engrossed that I hadn’t noticed when several hours later Joel came around to my side of the desk.
“Hey …” He was behind me, whispering in my ear, and his voice combined with his proximity and his smell was overwhelming. I closed my eyes and smiled. It took everything I had not to groan. Oh my god, what was he doing to me?
“Hey you,” I whispered back.
When I opened my eyes he had returned to his side of the table, setting down some books while looking straight at me. I felt myself blush and I went back to my studying. This man was under my skin.
I was researching some background to one of the cases I was working on, going through Hansard, when an email popped up.
J: You look like you’re working hard.
A: Yes, that’s what the library’s for. Stop distracting me with inane observations.
J: You started it.
A: You emailed me!
J: Only because you’re so distracting.
Oh my. He was cute.
A: That, I can’t help you with.
J: Oh, but I think you can.
A: I can?
J: What are you up to after this?
A: Sleep?
J: I can think of something way better.
A: I love to sleep.
J: Waaaaay better.
A: Chocolate?
J: Waaaaaaaay better.
A: Better than sleep or chocolate … vodka?
J: You’re really going to make me work this hard?
A:
I don’t know what you mean.
J: Let me cook dinner for you tonight. At my place.
Was I ready for ‘dinner’? We’d only kissed once. I knew I liked him, but this seemed fast. I wasn’t sure I was ready to be one of the notches on Joel’s bedpost. But I was excited. Excited to spend time with him.
A: What are you cooking?
J: Chicken.
A: Chicken? Just chicken? Sounds delicious…
J: It is delicious. It’s my mom’s recipe. I can’t give too much away. We can go straight from here.
A: Ok.
J: Please stop being so enthusiastic. It’s overwhelming, really.
A: Ok.
He peered over his laptop screen and we exchanged grins. There was no hope that the rest of this study session was going to be productive. My mind was whirring and my stomach was in knots. What underwear was I wearing?
***
Joel lived off campus. It was only just off campus, less than a ten-minute walk, but it somehow seemed more grownup than living in student accommodation. I’d been here once, but not since our first year—the very beginning of the first semester, for a punch party during Freshman week.
“This house is nicer than I remember.” I put my bag down in the hallway. Joel came up behind me and helped me off with my coat.
“Well, last time you were here you were one of a hundred people.” I didn’t expect him to remember whether or not I’d been at that party. Joel hung my coat up and walked toward me.
“I guess.” I was nervous, making polite conversation while he looked at me like he wanted to rip my clothes from my body. He was so close, but not touching me. My breath hitched. Why wasn’t he touching me? Finally, he pushed my hair behind my shoulders and bent his head to kiss my exposed neck. Just once. My skin burst into flames and my head fell back, urging him on, but he pulled away.
“So are you going to help me with the chicken?”
“The chicken?” Was he serious?
“Yes, the chicken. Do you listen to anything I say?” He’d kissed my neck, right, so what was the fascination with chicken? I expected him to jump me as soon as we got through the door.
I followed him through to the kitchen, totally confused and more than a little frustrated. My skin was still singing.
“Grab the mushrooms and onions from the fridge and start chopping, my little sous chef.”