Nine First Dates

by Jennifer Ryder

  The waitress places our drinks in front of us.

  Callum clears his throat. “I dropped in to see my niece, Emily, on my way over. It’s her fourth birthday.”

  “Oh,” I say in a higher pitch.

  “Little Em is all about the glitter and unicorns and rainbows. It’s hard to leave the house unscathed.” He slides up the left sleeve of his shirt revealing a rounded shoulder with a temporary rainbow tattoo. “See?”

  I reach over, unable to resist running the pad of my finger over the transfer. “Nice.” I laugh. “She did a great job with the application. My niece, Maddie, would’ve made a mess of it. She’s only two.” It’s still weird seeing my eldest brother, Daniel, as a father, but he dotes on his daughter like no one else.

  Callum’s skin turns to gooseflesh beneath my fingertips. “Emily thought you might like it.”

  I bite on my lower lip. He’s already talking about me to his family. “You told her you were going out on a date?”

  His mouth curls up at the sides. “It was the big topic of conversation while we decorated cupcakes with glitter and sprinkles. I told her about your mad baking skills, and she wanted all the details.”

  I try to stifle my grin. “And here I was thinking you were going to tell me you occasionally dress in drag, and shimmery eyeshadow is your favourite.”

  He laughs. “Ah, no.”

  “Because that wouldn’t be the worst date I’ve had this year.”

  Callum takes a swig of his beer and sets the bottle back on the table. “Some of the dates I’ve had would blow your mind.” He holds two fingers to his temple and jerks his thumb like a trigger.

  “Yeah?”

  “One woman was definitely a lot older than her profile said. The date went well, but when I refused to go home with her, and believe me, I was polite about it, she scratched the crap out of me and then stormed off.” He moves his neck to the left and runs his fingers over three pale pink lines beneath his right ear.

  “Crikey. That’s horrible.”

  “Yeah, she made me feel like a piece of meat.”

  “I’ve been there.” John.

  “Another woman, Elle, was nice. Smart. An accountant my mum knew. Little did I know she was into some heavy shit. She asked if I’d tie her up and choke her before we’d finished our first drink.”

  “For real?”

  He nods. “Yup. I mean, I don’t know about you, but I want at least two drinks under my belt before I can get into a choking-play conversation.”

  I laugh. “Me too.”

  “There was one date that I thought was heading in the right direction. Had a lot in common, same age. We were watching a movie at her place one night and then she got a text from her boyfriend and kicked me out.” He shakes his head and scoffs. “And then there was the blind date, where the woman turned up blind drunk because she was so nervous about it. She vomited all over my shoes.”

  “Oh, my god! I had the vomiting date from hell too. Mine trumps yours though.”

  I share my dating adventures with Callum over dinner. It’s such a release to talk to someone who’s been on the same rollercoaster as I have.

  We laugh. We connect.

  It’s easy.

  ***

  Rain falls from the sky in sheets as we prepare to walk out of the restaurant. Really? Can’t we just have a nice romantic walk together?

  “I can give you a lift,” Callum says, slipping his hand into mine. “How far away are you?”

  “About five minutes’ drive. But only if it’s on your way. I can get an Uber.”

  He shakes his head and squeezes my hand. “Even if it was out of my way, I’d still do it.”

  My heart pounds harder in my chest. Just go with him. “Okay.”

  “I’m parked around the corner. I promise you I’m not a serial killer.”

  Was I giving off the vibe that I don’t feel safe with him? I hope not.

  I bump my shoulder against his. “I wasn’t thinking that.”

  “Take a photo of me,” he challenges.

  “What?”

  “Take a photo of me and send it to your mother.”

  “Why exactly?”

  “Because what kind of serial killer would I be if I was prepared to give you a clear shot of myself?”

  I chuckle as I take a photo of Callum. “This is ridiculous.”

  “Now send it,” he says and produces a wide smile.

  I shake my head as I send it to Mum and type a follow-up message.

  Me: What do you think of this guy?

  “Okay, let’s go before this rain really sets in,” he says and takes off his jacket and holds it above my head. We run from the shelter of the restaurant, huddled together until we reach an older black ute with shiny rims. He opens the door for me, and I jump in and wipe the droplets from my face.

  A moment later, Callum lands in the driver’s seat and tucks his wet jacket under his seat. “Shit, it’s bucketing.”

  My phone dings with a message. I laugh as I read it. “My mother thinks you have exceptional bone structure.”

  “I like her already.”

  “She’ll like you even better for dropping me home, so thanks.”

  He puts the key in the ignition. It makes a click-click-click sound.

  “No,” he whispers.

  He turns the key back and then tries again. Click-click-click.

  “Shit. I must have left a light on or something.”

  I turn in the seat to face him. “Do you want me to take a look under the hood?”

  He gifts me with a beaming smile. “You know stuff about cars?”

  I shrug. “Maybe. It’s an old car. My pop’s car battery used to act up. Sometimes all it took was to jiggle the terminals a bit.”

  “You know what? Let’s give it a crack.”

  He pulls the latch down low on the right-hand side of the dashboard and grabs his coat. “Okay, on the count of three. I’ll prop open the bonnet, then you come ’round.”

  I suck in a deep breath and blow it out loudly. “Okay.”

  After a bit of jiggling and time spent trying to restart the car, we give up. Thankfully the rain has backed off to a light drizzle.

  Drenched, Callum turns around and sits on the front bumper. I shiver and sit beside him and stare at the pink neon glow of ‘Hot Doughnuts’ on the side of a van in the dirt car park.

  “This is a sign,” he says.

  “A sign to call the NRMA?”

  He chuckles. “Nope. That we weren’t meant to go home yet.”

  Please don’t tell me you love me.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “And again, I’m not a serial killer. This was not staged—I promise you.” He grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. I try to keep in step with his long legs as we jog across the street. “I mean, what kind of predator buys their victims hot, fresh doughnuts?”

  I squeal with laughter as we run towards the pop-up shelter beside the van. “The best kind.”

  ***

  Running through puddles too big to jump over, we retreat back to the car. The windows fog up as we eat the steaming doughnuts and laugh about stupid stuff Will used to do back in their footy days.

  The rain grows in intensity, as do my feelings for Callum.

  He turns his upper body to face me and leans close. “C’mere,” he says and crooks his finger, coaxing me forward until I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin.

  Blue eyes drill me with a look of pure lust. “You have sugar on your lips.”

  I move my hand to brush it away, but he captures my hand and pulls it to his damp chest. “You know I have a sweet tooth.” He licks at the sugar twice and captures my mouth with his.

  My head spirals as our tongues tango together, like expert dance partners who’ve made the moves a thousand times before. His hands reach up to rest either side of my face, holding me softly, yet commanding my focus.

  My heart pounds harder as my body aches for Callum. I sweep my fingers around his midd
le and grip him tight, wanting to haul him close. I groan, frustrated by the restricted space.

  Ting, ting, ting.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  Our lips break. I jump in my seat.

  “Son of a monkey,” I squeal.

  Callum chuckles. “Son of something, alright.” Hail pummels against the windshield like rocks. I squeal. It could smash it and shower us in glass.

  “This is ridiculous,” Callum says and chuckles. “Lucky I’m trapped in here with a good sort.”

  He sweeps his hand over my cheek and draws me close. Our lips lock once more. My head grows foggier with each sweep of our tongues and the groans rumbling from Callum’s chest.

  Before too long, the hail passes. The night sky clears, bringing a silence between us.

  Shivers overtake my body, but this time it’s a result of my damp clothes.

  Callum places his hands on my shoulders and rubs them. “You’re freezing. How about we catch a cab and I can drop you home?”

  “What about your car?”

  He snorts. “What? This dented old thing?”

  We get out and assess the damage. I cover my mouth and gasp at the dimpled paint. “It certainly is now. Crikey.”

  His shoulders drop. I make my way to his side and wrap my arms around his waist.

  “Oh, well. Could be worse,” he says.

  He takes my hand and we walk back along the restaurants of the foreshore on our way to the taxi rank.

  Even the freaky weather hasn’t kept people away tonight. The local sports bar, The Dock, is overloaded with patrons. As we approach, a large group spills out onto the pavement, wrestling.

  A solid bald man with dark neck tattoos throws a series of punches at a young guy at least half his size. Men crowd around them, yelling as the fight grows in intensity.

  “Oh, no,” Callum says and sprints in their direction.

  “Wait!” I run after him. Don’t get caught in the middle. Please.

  “Hey, that’ll do,” Callum shouts to the bigger man, holding out his flattened palms towards him.

  The man doesn’t acknowledge Callum. He beats the young man until he’s flailing on the ground.

  Callum places his hands on the tattooed man’s shoulder. “Cool your jets, bro.”

  His tattooed arm darts out like a lightning strike. His fist connects with Callum, and returns to his side. “Who da fuck you callin’ bro?” the man bellows.

  Callum groans and clutches at his face. Blood drips between his fingers and dots his grey shirt with dark red.

  My pounding heart drives me forward. I have zero tolerance for bullying. I step between the two men, my back to Callum. My body shakes as I force myself to speak. “Stop. Please.”

  He looks down at me and sniggers. “You want a broken nose for your troubles too, sweetheart?”

  I pray for courage as I take a step closer and push out my chest. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had one.”

  A police siren blares close by. I widen my eyes at the bully, hoping he’ll see sense. “Please go.”

  A couple of men swarm him and tug him away. The group disperses farther down the walkway and disappears into the night. Thank God.

  Once a path clears, I rush to the young guy curled into a ball on the concrete and kneel beside him. His face is splattered with blood and one eye has some serious swelling around it.

  I curl my fingers gently over his shoulder. “My name’s Abbie. I’m here to help. What’s your name?”

  He clutches at his ribs and cries out. “T-tom.” His body shakes beneath my fingers. Moving him will only cause him more pain. For now, I need to keep him calm and stop him from going into deeper shock.

  A crowd of stickybeaks forms a circle around us. “You!” I shout and point to a guy in a Canberra Raiders T-shirt. “Call an ambulance.” He nods and pulls a phone from his pocket.

  I divert my attention to a woman who looks to be my age. “You, can you get someone from the bar to bring some paper towels and bottles of water.” She nods and jogs inside.

  “Help’s on the way, Tom.” I sweep the wayward strands of long hair from his face and pat his shoulder.

  I turn my head and search for my date. “Callum?”

  “I’m good, Abs,” he says, drawing my eyes in his direction. He’s bent over, cradling his nose. Blood drips down his hand and forearm, turning the rain puddle below him pink. “Just make sure the kid’s okay.”

  ***

  After giving statements to the police, two young constables give us a lift to the hospital.

  Sitting in the waiting room, déjà vu hits me.

  Same room, just a different broken nose. People coughing, babies crying—not my favourite place to be.

  I squeeze Callum’s fingers which are weaved between mine. Our hands have been glued together since we arrived. “Okay, so seeing as we have time while we wait for the doc, how ’bout I put you through your paces with a bit of Q and A?”

  He tilts his head to the side and tries to wink. “You’re on.”

  The poor guy sounds terrible when he talks, his nasal passages all blocked up. Thankfully the bleeding has stopped, which I hope means it’s not too serious.

  I swivel my body sideways in my seat to face him. “Alright. What are three things that make you happy?”

  He looks up to the ceiling and then focuses on my face. “A soft bed, pepperoni pizza, and good company.”

  A warmth stirs in my lower belly as I imagine the two of us snuggled in bed eating pizza.

  He bumps his shoulder against mine. “What about you?”

  “I’m not sure I can top that. Anyway, I’m asking the questions.”

  Callum chuckles. “Okay. Keep going then, boss.”

  “Tell me five random facts about yourself.”

  He laughs. “Um, I like vegemite thick on my toast. I crashed into a parked car when I was taking my first driving lesson. I don’t like people touching my feet. I used to eat toothpaste when I was little and … I have a freckle on my butt in the shape of a love heart.”

  And now I want to see his butt. I bite on my lip.

  “You’re thinking about my butt, aren’t you?”

  I clear my throat. “Maybe.”

  “Your turn,” he says. “Don’t hold back.”

  “My nickname was Abbie Yabbie when I was little, thanks to my brother.”

  “Nope,” Callum says and shakes his head. “It’s gotta be stuff I don’t know.”

  Snap. This is gonna be tough. “Fine.” I huff out a breath. “I always sleep on the right side of the bed even if I’m in a king-sized bed.”

  “This is going to be a problem moving forward,” he says and smirks.

  “Really?”

  “Yup. I sleep on the right. Continue though. I need to know if there are any more deal-breakers.”

  “I guarantee that I make the best lemon meringue pie you’ve ever eaten.”

  He reaches over and places his hand on my leg. It sends goosebumps rippling over my entire body. “Yet to be proven.”

  “Number three,” I say in a louder voice, trying to feign annoyance. “Thunder still scares me.”

  He strokes the fabric on my thigh with his thumb. “I’ll make sure I check in on you next time a storm’s rolling in.”

  I place my hand over his. “That’s sweet.” He laces my fingers in his and looks down at our joined hands. “Number four,” he says, not looking up.

  “I’ve watched every episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine.”

  “Girl, if you haven’t watched them at least twice, you’re not serious about it.”

  “You love it that much?”

  He nods.

  “Cool, cool, cool, cool,” I say and laugh.

  “Not done yet,” he says, squeezing my hand.

  I breathe in deep and try to think. “I’m a doodler,” I finally say, relieved to make it to five. I hadn’t realised how hard these questions would be.

  His eyes crinkle at the sides as he grins. “You’r
e a what?”

  “You know, like drawing.”

  He leans his head back and nods. “Ah. Got it. I thought you were telling me about a fetish you’re into.”

  I giggle and play-punch his shoulder. “Try and keep it PG. We’re in a hospital.” A baby cries in the distance as if on cue.

  He leans in close, his breath warming my ear. My mouth waters at the thought of kissing him again.

  “Callum Sullivan,” a voice calls in the distance.

  I release an audible sigh and peck him on the cheek, breaking the sizzle between us. “Time to get you sorted out, Sullivan.”

  ***

  A young female nurse with black hair returns to the curtained-off area she left us in a while ago. I’ve been pacing the floor while Callum has been as cool as a freakin’ cucumber, laying back on the bed. A familiar face appears beside the nurse.

  I scale my open palm down my face and laugh into my hand. For reals?

  “I remember you,” Doctor Nolan says and taps his index finger to his nose. “One hell of a broken nose, I recall.”

  I curl my hands on my hips and nod. “Yep. It sure was.”

  “Well, miss. Nice to see this time it isn’t you.” He hugs a clipboard to his chest and moves closer, inspecting my face. “Hmm. It’s healed nicely by the way.”

  “Thanks to you.” I glance at Callum to try and divert the doctor’s attention to the reason why we’re here.

  The doctor lowers his head and glances at him over the top of his bifocals. His mouth forms an O as he makes an ‘ooh’ sound. He must think it’s bad. “So, who have we got here?”

  Callum states his full name.

  The doctor looks to me and widens his eyes. “Boyfriend?”

  I pull my shoulders closer to my ears. “It’s our first date.”

  He grimaces. “Ah, I see.”

  “No, no. It’s going well,” I assure him.

  He chuckles. “Well, I’d hate to see it go bad.”

  “I’m a keeper, doc,” Callum pipes in. “Even busted up with my face in ruins, I reckon I’ve got a pretty good shot at a second date with Abbie here.”

  Even with damaging hail, bar brawls, police statements, and possible broken bones, it’s still the best date I’ve had all year.