I need to say something. This is steamrolling into something far beyond a first date. “That’s nice, but I’m not looking to get married anytime soon.” I’m looking for a steady relationship first, lady.
She purses her lips and starts walking again. “You say that now, but you’ll see.”
I’ll see what exactly? That Cam, blogging mummy’s boy, is the man of my dreams?
If a man can’t handle a first date without his mother, he’s not the independent soul I’m looking for.
We walk for a hundred or so metres and then I do something I’m not proud of.
I fake stomach cramps.
I say my goodbyes and gingerly walk back away, leaving mother and son arm in arm.
So creepy.
When I’m out of their sight, I power walk back to the car park.
My phone beeps with a message the moment I reach for my car door.
Cam: I’m so sorry you’re feeling ill. I’m going to get in touch with the café. Maybe it had something to do with their food preparation.
Oh, Cam. It’s not them, it’s you.
Crap. This probably means that the café will get a bad rap from Cam on his blog and in the Facebook group. I didn’t think this through. I can’t be responsible for them getting negative publicity. I sit in my car and type back a message.
Me: You don’t have to do that. In fact, I’m pretty sure it was the leftover Thai takeout that I had for dinner last night.
And then another message.
Cam: Mum said to make sure you have plenty of fluids. She cooks a mean chicken noodle soup. Do you have any allergies? She’ll get started on some right away.
I swallow the bile rising up my throat. Is his mother looking over his shoulder, scrutinising him as he types out every word?
Me: Thanks, but I can’t think about food right now. I just need some rest.
Cam: We’d be happy to make some and bring it over if you just text me your address.
We’d.
Crikey. I toss my phone on the passenger seat. Music blares through my speakers as I speed out of the car park towards home.
“No, Cam. No,” I shout out over the thumping beat. “I won’t be sharing my address with you or your matriarchal soup-making mother.” It feels good to yell it out, to voice my frustration, even if it’s only to myself within the confines of the car.
Pulling up at a set of traffic lights, I turn the music to low. I concentrate on taking in and releasing measured breaths. I’ll message him back later. I get the vibe that it’s gonna take some precision when I let him down gently. This date has been far too much too soon. And had one too many participants.
My phone chimes. I scoop it up and stare at yet another message from him.
Cam: Let me know when you get home.
Why? So you and your mummy can come and beat down my door?
My fingers wrap around the device. I squeeze it so tight the joints in my fingers stiffen.
Cam: Really, the soup is no trouble.
He’s for real. He’s delusional.
Me: Thanks, but I’ll be fine. Will message you tomorrow.
Cam: Are you sure?
“Gah,” I cry out, and bang the heel of my palms against the steering wheel. “Take a freakin’ hint.”
Me: Yes.
A car horn beeps behind me. I stare at the green light ahead and plant my foot. He’s like gum on the bottom of your shoe. Even when you think you’ve gotten rid of it, part of it is still there, stuck to you.
After I walk through the front door, I make a beeline straight for my bed before burying my head in my pillow. I scream into it until my lungs are almost empty.
There’s no doubt that Cam would be up for a second date and would skip straight to the altar, but not me. Cam is a package deal. Three’s a crowd and I won’t be bullied into any relationship … even if his mother says he’s a real catch.
***
The next day I send Cam a message. After rewriting it at least a dozen times, I think I get it right. I don’t want to hurt him but at the same time, I don’t want to lead him on.
Cam, it was lovely to meet you yesterday. Being introduced to your mother was a surprise. I’m flattered by the way you feel about me, but I don’t feel the same way. I hope we can be friends.
Within half an hour of sending him the message, he’s blocked me on social media and ghosted me completely.
Between him and Eric, I’m sensing a new trend.
When I fill in Will on the date, he has the gall to laugh and smile like a big goof. On the upside, the date was an improvement from my last.
I didn’t get robbed.
Chapter Three – AUSTIN
Mid-February
Tinder. It’s about time I give it a go.
A few friends have told me about their experiences. Not everyone has had the greatest of encounters, but there’ve been no outright disasters.
My best friend, Kate, met her fiancé through Tinder, so it can’t be all bad. As long as I’m smart and safe, Tinder could be a good thing for me.
Will has another opinion, but I told him to keep it to himself. It’s like he still thinks I’m twelve years old with braces and knobbly knees.
After two days of sending my draft profile info to Kate, I finally settle on how I want a potential match to see me.
Abbie, 25, Canberra
Aspiring event planner. Foodie. Aquarius.
Coffee will always be my number-one beverage and I love watching sports.
The gym isn’t for me—I love bike riding, camping, and exploring the outdoors.
Oh, and doughnuts are life.
Looking for a partner to explore and enjoy the good things in life with.
I make sure I upload a modest photo for my profile picture with no cleavage on display. I don’t want my boobs to be what catches somebody’s eye. I’m steadfast in my search for a relationship. This is not about a hook-up for me. Even though it’s been a lifetime since I’ve had some action.
After wading through a sea of profiles for weeks, I grow the courage to swipe right.
It’s on a guy with a contagious smile, a tidy beard, and a man bun.
Austin, 30
I make beer, eat meat, and love dogs.
Might dance when no one is looking, but I won’t admit it.
You won’t regret swiping right.
The next day, Tinder tells me a match has been made with Austin. I dance when no one is watching, just before I send him a message.
I believe that the right guy is out there, looking for me. Could it be Austin?
We message each other for a week. Austin is a partner in a local brewery. He’s only been in business for a year, but already their pale ales are winning awards. I try not to get my hopes up too early. I’m in event planning—he works in a boutique brewery that’s gaining local and national attention. There’s so much for us to talk about.
I just wish I liked beer.
Austin is flirty, but at the same time he seems charming and sweet. He’s a little older than me, but that could definitely be a good thing. It sounds like he has a clear vision of where he wants to go with his business. It’s certainly an attractive quality.
He suggests drinks at a local bar and maybe a bit of dancing, and it’s all I can think about. It’s been a while since I’ve let loose on a dance floor — and let loose with a man I connected with. A man like Austin.
***
I arrive at Monkey Bar at nine-thirty. Normally at this time on a Saturday I’m in my PJs, mid-binging something on Netflix. I had a shot of espresso before I left the house, so I should be buzzing well into the night.
Here’s hoping the date will last that long.
I join the short queue out front and smooth my hands over the front of my tight-fitting black dress. With the recent heatwave, I’m already regretting the high-necked dress and the mid-thigh Spanx bodysuit that’s stuck to my skin with a layer of sweat. The bodysuit isn’t uncomfortably tight, but I’m one hundred pe
rcent going to need a cider or two to take my mind off it.
“Abbie, is that you?” a deep voice calls out from behind me.
I turn to find Austin with a cheeky smile and man bun just like in his profile picture. His blue linen shirt reveals a dusting of hair on his toned pecs.
Lordy, lordy. He is gorgeous.
I swallow. Yep. My tongue is back in my mouth. “Austin. Hey.”
He steps in close and presses a soft peck to my cheek. His fresh aftershave teases at my nostrils. Snap. He smells divine.
“Sorry, I should have messaged you to say you didn’t have to wait out front. I know the owner, so we can head straight up.”
I nod. “That’s great. Thanks.”
Austin fist-bumps the muscle on the door and takes my hand and leads me up the dim staircase.
With each swish of my thighs, I try to ignore the trickle of sweat escaping down to my knee. Classy, Abbie. I may have to try and dry off in the bathroom, because this is bloody ridiculous.
The thump of music grows louder with each step we take closer to the top. My heart beats faster—anticipation of what’s to come. When we reach the top, a warm glow lights the floor. I can’t stop myself from swaying to the remixed eighties music.
Austin is quite the gentlemen, guiding me along a wall with neon lights and bright monkey faces until we reach the bar, all while his hand is pressed against the small of my back. Please, God, don’t let the sweat have soaked through. He navigates the crowd and pushes his way through, creating space at the bar for us.
“What’s it gonna be, Abbie?” Austin says close to my ear. He waves at a bartender farther down who is serving another customer.
I find myself staring at the waterfall which runs behind the bottles on the far wall. It’s spectacular.
I turn my head to face him and jerk back, his face within inches of mine. “Oh, a cider with some ice would be magic.”
The bartender skips towards our end of the bar and fist-bumps Austin’s outstretched hand.
“Danny, my man,” Austin says. “Cider and ice for my beautiful lady here, and Grey Goose with soda.”
Danny nods and wipes his hands on his black apron. “Comin’ right up.” In record time our drinks are in front of us.
I place my clutch purse on the counter and pull out a fifty-dollar note.
“On the house, yo,” the bartender says and taps the top of my hand. I slip the note back into my purse.
Austin bumps his shoulder against mine. “It’s all good, babe. He owes me.”
I look for Danny, who has now moved on, and call out “thank you” and wave to him.
Austin again guides me through the club to a table at the far corner which gives us some reprieve from the music.
For a while we talk about his brewery and his plans to expand distribution into local restaurants and bars. He really seems to know what he’s doing. He has direction, and a great business partner. I don’t know much about beer, but he sure does.
“Do you love your job?” Finally he asks about me. He rounds the table and moves in closer, his hand grazing my hip.
I clear my throat, trying to ignore the sudden flush to my face from his touch. “Yeah, I do. One of my bosses, Chanti, is so supportive. She’s kind of like my idol when it comes to events. She thinks of everything.”
His brows draw together. “Chanti Singh?”
I finish the last of my cider and place the empty glass on a nearby ledge. “Um, yeah.”
He laughs. “Stunning woman.” He scratches at the back of his neck.
“You know her?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Intimately.”
What is that supposed to mean?
A group of girls dressed in white with purple ribbon sashes draped across their bodies fill the space around us. Austin moves in closer, his fingers now squeezing the rounded part of my hip.
He leans in, his beard tickling the side of my face. “You want another drink?”
I do, but first, I need to air out this body before I melt into a puddle. “Yeah, I just need to go to the ladies first.”
He leans back a touch and smiles. “Sure. How about I meet you back at the end of the bar?”
“Great.”
His fingers graze down my bottom as I walk away. My, my. He’s definitely the touchy-feely type.
The moment I get into the stall, I message Chanti.
I’m on a date with Austin, thirty, rocks a man bun. He says he knows you intimately??? Thoughts?
I toss my phone back in my purse and strip down to my underwear. Thank God the music is loud in here, because with the moans and grunts of exasperation I expel while peeling it off my body, people could be led to believe there was a couple in here getting busy.
I pat myself dry with toilet paper and flap the bodysuit around in the small space. After a few minutes, I resign myself to getting dressed and getting back out there. I don’t want Austin to think I’ve been in here taking a dump or something.
I reapply my nude-coloured lip gloss and check my phone. Chanti hasn’t read my message. Damn it.
As I approach the bar, Austin is waiting on a stool. I take a few deep breaths, step in beside him and curl my hand on his shoulder.
Austin turns and smiles. His hand takes up position back on the curve of my hip. “Everything okay?”
I nod. “Yeah, there was just a queue.”
He pulls me closer to the bar where there are two shot glasses filled with a brown liquid.
“I got you a surprise,” he says and pushes a shot towards me. “I know you like coffee, so I got you a Patron XO Cafe.”
I search down the bar for his friend Danny. Did he pour it? How long has it been sitting there? What if he’s tried to slip something into my drink?
His eyes widen and he nods. “That’s cool. I get it.” He sculls both shots and waves Danny over. “Can we get another one, man?”
Danny turns to me and smiles. “Absolutely.”
Austin winks as I pick up the shot glass. “You can’t be too careful, right?”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” I’m grateful that he knew what I was getting at and didn’t have to voice it.
I let the shot roll around my mouth. The delicious zing of coffee mixed with alcohol zaps my tastebuds. I swallow and set the glass on the bar. I swear it only takes seconds before I feel the warmth spread inside.
Austin stands and places both hands on my hips. “Good, huh?”
“Yup.”
He takes my hand and leads me closer to the DJ, walking backwards through the crowd. “Let’s dance.”
And boy. Do we dance.
I don’t know whether it’s the shot of Patron, the company, or the party atmosphere, but I haven’t danced like this in forever. It feels so good to let loose, be free.
It feels even better having a man’s hands on me. It’s as if he is worshipping me with his touch. He has good rhythm and knows how to move his body.
He definitely knows how to move it against mine.
Austin pulls me close and brings his mouth to my ear. “You up for a cocktail? They’re next level here.”
Should I? Some cocktails have up to three shots in them, and I don’t want to get drunk. Especially after what happened on my date with Eric. Whilst Austin seems great, I still need to keep my wits about me.
I keep moving to the beat. “I’m okay.”
He brushes back the hair on his face which has come loose from his bun. “My treat. I’ll get us some. You hold our spot on the floor and I’ll be right back.”
As much as he seems a decent guy, I need to watch my drinks. “I’m okay for now.”
He sweeps his arms around my waist and presses his body against mine. Something hard grazes my hip. Oh, boy. “Come on, Abbie. I’m sure there’s something to tantalise you.” He waggles his eyebrows up and down. “Come with me.”
Well, I would hate to miss out … Do it, Abbie.
I huff. “Okay.”
He slips his hand into mine
and pulls me through to the bar. Austin snakes his hand around my waist and pushes me in front of him once again. We order two espresso martinis. I love that he adores coffee as much as I do.
“You know, I gotta say,” Austin says in my ear, “you are far sexier in person.”
I clear my throat. Cooper was the last person to call me sexy. Memories come flooding back.
Just before I put on weight and he dumped me after all those years. We hadn’t grown apart, like he said—it was the growth in my dress size that was the problem. His problem.
“Yeah, well I couldn’t go putting my best photos up. I don’t want guys to have unrealistic expectations. I want a relationship.”
“Of course, babe. I want that too.”
I pay the female bartender once she’s finished making our drinks.
Austin’s tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip. “Are they real?” he says in a deeper tone.
“Excuse me?” I hand him his martini.
His eyes focus on my chest and then move back to my face. “Your tits.”
You can lock the girls up, but still, they get the attention. Is it really any of his business?
I take a long sip of my drink, allowing the perfect combination of sweet and bitter to distract me as I figure out how to tackle this. “Well, that’s for me to know—”
“Ooh, and for me to find out?” He leans in close and sweeps his hand around the nape of my neck.
My breath hitches as the heat of his mouth tickles my lips.
He tilts his head. “Do you know just how undeniably sexy you are?” Before I know it, his lips are on mine. My whole body stiffens. I’m kissing him now?
What’s the harm in a kiss?
I breathe out through my nose and succumb to the moment. His lips are soft, his tongue gentle as it probes my mouth. A moan escapes my lips as he teases me.
Nine First Dates Page 3