The Secret to Falling in Love

by Victoria Cooke

  I was still angry at my mother and Jean for making an actual pros and cons list about me and some poor unwitting guy, who, quite frankly, seemed a little boring and probably far too timid if he let his mother interfere like that. That was probably why Jean was involved, to palm off the newly single son, but I was a strong independent woman – why on earth did my mother get involved? Meddler! She certainly had some explaining to do.

  ***

  When I arrived back at my apartment building, I checked my mailbox before heading up. The door was so stiff I had to yank it open. When I peeked inside, there was a folded piece of paper sitting on top of a bill from my internet provider. Leaving the bill, I took out the note and unfolded it. A ticket fell out. Curious, I read the note:

  Mel,

  Got a spare ticket for a gig tonight and thought you might want to come and join us. Just me, Lou and some of the lads. Meet you outside the Albert Hall at 7 p.m. if you fancy it.

  Si

  I hadn’t really liked Simon’s friends on the few occasions I’d met them, but without Netflix or the means to arrange much else at such short notice, it seemed like something to do. It was nice of Si to trek up to my apartment to invite me.

  ***

  At about six, Gemma called round out of the blue. ‘Congratulations on your first big article,’ she said, handing me a glass of champagne and clinking the rim of her own against it. She’d brought a copy of the magazine to show me proudly.

  ‘Thank you, and thank you for the flutes.’ I took a sip of cool Moët for the second time that week. I could get used to this.

  ‘No problem, and the flutes are as much for my benefit as they are yours.’ She winked. ‘So, please tell me, why have you gone dark on the whole technology thing? You don’t really feel that trapped by The Matrix Effect that you would go all old-school, do you?’ She sat down next to me.

  I explained all about the article and Dee’s challenge. I even surprised myself when I told her how peaceful the last twenty-four hours had been.

  ‘Ha! I can’t see you going that long without technology. Did Dee have to surgically detach the phone from your hand?’ She was joking, but she wasn’t actually too far off the mark.

  ‘Oh, you’re hilarious,’ I retorted sarcastically.

  ‘Wow. No dating for a month then, if you’re off your dating websites.’ She shook her head animatedly. ‘Anyway, I’m so sorry, hon, I have to love you and leave you,’ she said after being at the flat literally long enough to guzzle one glass of bubbly. Despite having unconfirmed plans of my own, I felt a little deflated.

  ‘Aww, Gem, what’s the big rush? There’s still over half a bottle of Moët in the kitchen,’ I said hopefully.

  ‘I know, I know, I’m so sorry. I’m just meeting some friends, but I really wanted to congratulate you first.’

  ‘Okay. I actually have a gig to go to anyway and should get ready. I was just hoping to catch up a bit more first. Shall we take a rain check?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Soon okay? Maybe I could pop round tomorrow with brekkie? Right, I must dash.’ She leaned over and air-kissed near my cheek before leaving. It was so weird; she’d never mentioned any other friends before, and now it seemed like she couldn’t be away from them. There I go, sounding like a jealous girlfriend again, I thought before glugging down the rest of my champagne.

  Chapter Eight

  I spotted Simon straight away: white shirt pulled tautly around his beer-battered belly. His girlfriend, Lou, stood next to him, in leather trousers and a black halter top, smoking a cigarette. Her black hair was scraped into a high pony. She was my polar opposite, but she was okay to chat to for a few hours. There were a few blokes with them. I stopped for a moment, unsure if I really wanted to join them, but Lou spotted me and waved me over excitedly.

  ‘Mel, over here.’ She flung her arms around me as soon as I was near enough. ‘I’m so glad you came. Couldn’t face this lot by myself.’ She waved her fag in the general direction of Simon’s mates.

  ‘Hi, Lou. Thanks for inviting me,’ I said awkwardly.

  ‘Hey, maybe tonight we’ll get you paired off.’ She winked. Lou knew nothing of my desire to be married; she just saw a single thirty-something and assumed that was what I needed. I smiled back.

  ‘Glad you could make it, Mel. Right then, in we go,’ Simon announced.

  The smoke machine was working full pelt, and from our position the band was hard to see. The music was too loud to talk, so the first half of the gig was spent smiling in response to whatever Lou was trying to say to me and nodding my head to the beat. After a few drinks, Lou’s attention became focused solely on fishing something out of Simon’s throat with her tongue. Gross.

  Feeling the need to escape for a breather, I tapped her arm. ‘I’m going to get a drink,’ I shouted, making the international hand gesture for ‘drink’ when she looked my way. She smiled and gave a thumbs up.

  As I started walking off, one of Simon’s mates tapped my shoulder. ‘I’ll come with you,’ he said. He followed me to the bar where it was a little quieter. We chatted whilst we waited in the five-deep queue. He was all right, and a welcome break from watching Lou and Simon act out soft porn. His name was Martin, and whilst he wasn’t physically attractive, with his squidgy undefined potato features and wonky teeth, he was quite a laugh.

  ‘Y’know, I should be in a band,’ he said, nodding towards the stage. ‘A gastric band.’ He cackled to himself. I smiled at his ability to not take himself too seriously. Trying to follow his vein of humour, I attempted my own joke.

  ‘I’d like to be in a band too. . . A wedding band.’ He looked a little puzzled. ‘Oh, I tried!’ I said, laughing.

  ‘So you’re single?’ Uh-oh, was this a come-on?

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Me too.’ Fortunately, it didn’t sound like a come-on, nor was it the usual pitiful response I’d grown used to when people discovered I was single. ‘Okay, snog, marry or avoid?’ he said, nodding towards a guy slumped over the bar.

  ‘What?’ I snorted.

  ‘You heard. Would you snog, marry or avoid him?’

  ‘I’ve not played this since school. But okay, I’ll humour you. Avoid, definitely. I don’t snog or marry men who I have to carry home and tuck in.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ He smirked.

  ‘How about her?’ I flicked my eyes at a girl standing at the bar in a short cream shirt-dress and high platform shoes. Her long wavy brunette hair tumbled down her back, and her lean tanned legs ended somewhere around the same point. I already knew the answer, but it was a silly game to pass the time.

  ‘Well I wouldn’t avoid her. That was too easy, try another.’

  As my eyes roamed over the crowd, I was certain I spotted a flash of familiar glossy dark hair. Gemma?

  ‘Sorry, Martin. I won’t be a minute.’ I pushed my way through the throng of people for a better look. It was Gemma! I tried to get closer; I wanted to ask her why she hadn’t told me earlier she was heading here tonight. Suddenly a blonde girl appeared beside her and flung an arm around her shoulder. I recognised her face, and it took me a moment or two to realise that it was the pretty girl from the Facebook pictures.

  It would have seemed a bit possessive to go over there now. Gemma obviously didn’t want to tell me about her new friends for whatever reason. I hoped she wasn’t stupid enough to have got into drugs or something. I made a mental note to confront her about what was going on.

  They looked like they were having a great time, though – laughing, dancing, taking silly selfies. They didn’t want me tagging on, moaning about Simon and Lou. Sullenly, I plodded back to the bar, where Martin had managed to pick up two beers. ‘Thanks.’ I smiled as he handed one to me, and we trudged back over to the others.

  ‘Wow, that was amazing. What did you think?’ Simon yelled enthusiastically, running two hands through his hair as the lights came back on. The rest of the group murmured their agreement.

  �
�Yeah, they were great.’ I exaggerated enthusiasm; I didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

  ‘You’ll have to come next time,’ Lou said, grasping my arm.

  ‘Yes, definitely,’ I agreed politely. ‘Anyway, I’m tired and need to get back,’ I lied.

  ‘Martin will walk you. Won’t you?’ she prompted him. That was her not-so-subtle attempt at setting me up, a hazard we single people often encountered.

  ‘Of course I will,’ he replied dutifully.

  ‘It’s fine. I’ve not far to go.’ I really didn’t want Martin to walk me home.

  ‘I won’t take no for an answer.’ Reluctantly, I accepted, saying goodbye to the others. In the cold silence of the night, Martin’s humour had vanished, and walking without much conversation was a little awkward.

  Outside my apartment block I turned to say goodbye, but he spoke first. ‘I’m glad you came tonight, Melissa. It was really nice to meet you.’ He landed an arm heavily around my shoulders, his drunkenness becoming more apparent as I myself started to feel much more sober. The feeling of his arm made my neck stiffen and the hairs on the back of it bristle.

  ‘Aww, well, it was nice of Simon to invite me,’ I said, trying to sound pally whilst sliding subtly from under his arm. Then, out of nowhere, he lunged in, open-mouthed, for a full-on snog. I didn’t know how to respond. My first instinct was to recoil, but a mixture of boredom and curiosity led me to go with it, just for a few seconds.

  He wasn’t a terrible kisser, but he was slightly rough and pressed too firmly – his stubble scratched my skin. I recoiled. The kiss left me feeling nothing more than the need for lip salve and an ice pack. I pulled away, my curiosity satisfied, and took a step back to allow some space between us. ‘Right, well, I better get inside,’ I said again in my pally tone.

  ‘Do you want me to get inside . . . you?’ He winked. My toes curled, and I suddenly felt nauseous, with a sudden urge to brush my teeth. I glared at him before replying, ‘Goodbye, Martin.’

  ‘Wow, okay. I thought we were having a good time,’ he said, running a hand through his hair. ‘I suppose I’ll see you around?’ He turned to walk off, evidently not all that bothered. I let out a sigh of relief and leaned back against the wall. I waited until he was out of sight before going inside – I wasn’t chancing him coming back.

  So much for my gran’s advice of meeting someone in a club.

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning I woke wondering what time it was. Since my phone was no longer glued to my side, I had to drag myself up out of my warm toasty bed into the cool morning air and scramble around for my watch. I found it under a pile of letters. Jeez, it was almost eleven! I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept in so late. Suddenly, I remembered that Gemma had promised to bring breakfast round. ‘Damn,’ I grumbled aloud. I hoped I hadn’t missed her. I really wished I had my phone.

  I threw on yesterday’s jeans and a hoodie and popped down to my mailbox to see if she had been and left a message. I half expected a note reprimanding me for not answering the door and telling me she was in the coffee place down the road, waiting for me to get my lazy arse up. There was nothing.

  I wandered back upstairs, heavy-footed, spirits dampened, to find myself once again at a loose end, wondering what to do with myself. I contemplated another visit to see Lizzie and her free-range children but quickly dismissed the idea. Two visits in one weekend would constitute being on the verge of a nervous breakdown in Lizzie’s eyes. She would be sure to tell our mother too, and then I’d actually have a nervous breakdown.

  I’d take myself out for breakfast. I’m quite a catch! I joked to myself. Grabbing my handbag, I headed back downstairs and out to the coffee shop, secretly hoping Gemma would be there.

  The coffee shop was heaving, which was unusual, but I generally pop in a bit later on a Sunday. Gemma was nowhere to be seen. Luckily, I managed to grab the last tiny table, conveniently situated in the far corner of the room, enabling me to be a less prominent loner. I took a delicious sip of my hot skinny cappuccino, momentarily closing my eyes to savour the first sip of the day.

  When I opened them, there was a man standing in front of me, holding a cup of coffee. ‘Excuse me, sorry to interrupt. I was just wondering if this seat was taken?’ A small pleading smile formed on his face. My cheeks flushed when I noticed how handsome he was, and for a split second, I thought he was hitting on me, until I realised that the seat opposite me was in fact the last available one in the whole coffee shop.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ I replied coolly, gesturing towards the chair, trying to redeem myself.

  ‘Thanks. It’s busy in here today. I normally come in on a Sunday morning for a quiet breakfast, but not today.’ He grinned and pulled out a perfectly folded newspaper from his tan leather man-bag. It was odd; I’d never seen him before, despite spending most Sunday mornings in that very coffee shop. Not that I noticed many people – I was usually texting someone or debating politics on Twitter.

  Placing the paper down, he took a neat sip from his coffee before looking up, catching me observing him. Instantly I averted my eyes. I knew he’d caught me looking, but it was mostly because I had nothing else to look at, I tried to convince myself. If I had my phone I could at least look busy. I winced.

  Playing it safe, I stared into my coffee cup and played last night over in my head. I cringed at the memory of Martin’s stubble against my chin and tried to push all thoughts of him aside. All that was left to think about was Gemma, her new blonde friend and their secret nights out.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ My thoughts were interrupted by the man before me. Slowly I relaxed my forehead. I hadn’t even realised I’d been frowning – I bet I looked a picture with my prominent crevice at full capacity. He was proving to be quite the talker.

  ‘Yes, everything’s fine,’ I replied, forcing a smile and meeting his eyes. The sharp blue pierced me, forcing me to look away again. Needing to busy myself, I reached for my saucer and accidently brushed his hand as I did, not realising just how cramped the small circular table was. My heart thumped in my chest, and I felt awkward and silly – like a clumsy teenager talking to the fit lad in the year above.

  He must have thought I was flirting with him, badly. I was so embarrassed, especially since I looked so dreadful. It was so unlike the slightly more confident me that I was used to. In fact, only Dee had ever managed to shatter my confidence with a mere gaze before.

  ‘You looked like you had things on your mind, that’s all. I didn’t mean to pry.’ He turned back to his newspaper. I may have been looking too deeply into it, but he really seemed like he wanted to talk to me. Was he just being friendly? Could he be interested in me?

  Feeling safer, more settled, I allowed myself another glance. He really was attractive. His hair was dark and cut neatly – long and wavy on top, swept to the side and the sides kept short. He was clean-shaven and had an air about him that suggested he took pride in his appearance. When he’d smiled before I’d noticed a perfect row of bright white teeth. He was simply dressed in a casual white linen shirt and blue jeans. Despite feeling so inferior in comparison to his immaculate looks, I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to know more about this handsome stranger, so I took a deep breath and forced myself to reply.

  ‘I actually had a terrible evening last night. The memory of that coupled with a hangover probably resulted in a rather large frown.’ I managed a more natural smile. I decided going into the whole Gemma thing would seem puerile, so instead I shared a few details about meeting Martin at the gig. Plus it let him know that I was single, just in case. I mentally high-fived myself.

  ‘Ah, I see. That just won’t do!’ His eyes pierced mine. He held my gaze whilst taking a sip of his coffee, holding me still, trapped, like a rabbit caught in headlights. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘It’s Melissa.’ I could barely manage to answer, my mouth felt so dry, but my name croaked out.

  ‘Well, Melissa, it’s been
a pleasure having coffee with you this morning. To thank you for your kindness and to make up for your experience last night, I’d like to take you out, if you’ll allow me?’ His eyes fixed on me once more. I was paralysed with fear and excitement, and my heart raced. I wasn’t sure what it was about this man, but I was simultaneously mesmerised and intimidated by him.

  ‘It’s been lovely, thank you, thanks for letting me offload about my dreadful evening, and yes, going out sounds good.’ The words came out in a bit of a rush, but it astounded me that I managed to get them out at all. I must have been running on some kind of back-up system.

  ‘Great, it’s a date then.’ He smiled warmly. ‘I actually have to leave the country tomorrow, just for a few days on business, but it would be great to see you when I get back.’ He checked his watch and got to his feet. He reached into his bag, pulling out a shiny silver case and from it a thick, black matt-satin business card. ‘I’m afraid I have to dash off, but I’ll leave you my card and we can arrange something later in the week?’ He looked at me expectantly.

  I was a little flabbergasted; I’d never been handed a business card from a potential date before. Nevertheless, I accepted it and casually placed it in my bag without looking at it.

  ‘Yes, definitely,’ I said, smiling back at him.

  ‘Goodbye, Melissa.’

  ‘Goodbye . . .’ As he strode off it dawned on me that I hadn’t even caught his name. I scrambled around in my bag for his card. For fear of him coming back and catching me in the act, I didn’t take the card out; I tried to sneak a peek instead. Suddenly, the café door swung open, and from the corner of my eye I caught a man walking in. Heart racing, I snapped my bag shut. I’d just have to wait to find out the mystery stranger’s name.

  My head was spinning. Did that really just happen? To hell with dating sites – if I’d had my Wi-Fi rights reinstated I’d have been too busy checking for matches to have even acknowledged that man. Damn it, I would probably have still been in bed, staring at a screen of some description.