The First Date: A heartwarming and laugh out loud romantic comedy book that will make you feel happy

by Zara Stoneley

  I glance at Noah, who has actually gone a bit of a funny colour. Bloody hell, he’s blushing! Which makes me giggle. And it makes my mind up. Despite all the flirty comments, if undies can make him blush then he can’t be a complete womaniser, can he?

  And then I think about that Christmas. The one time I did nearly go in this shop. I’d wanted to because I’d thought that camisole was going to make me feel sexy, desirable.

  And then common sense had won the day.

  ‘Okay.’ I take a deep breath. This feeling good about myself could seriously damage my bank balance. Then I hold up a hand to block Noah. ‘Not you. You can sit over there on that bench.’

  ‘I’ll bring you a coffee, babe.’ Rach laughs out loud at him. ‘Looks like you’ve finally met your match, Noah!’

  ‘Oh no, no, he’s not met his match,’ I follow her in, trying to explain, ‘we’re not a couple. We’re just—’ Oh flip, we’re just what? I can’t explain to a complete stranger! ‘Friends, we’re friends.’

  Rach isn’t listening. She is standing next to a display of very flimsy undergarments which she grabs and waves in the air.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think those will …’ I suddenly realise I’m boosting my boobs up in my hands, ‘work,’ I say, letting go abruptly and feeling my skin heat up.

  ‘Ahh but they’re Noah’s favourites, aren’t they?’ She frowns.

  ‘I wouldn’t know, like I said, I’m not, we’re not … I’m not sure they’re me.’

  ‘You’d be surprised how much of a firm hold you’ll get.’ Rach carries on. I’m not sure if her comment is a double entendre, or just praise for the manufacturing standards. ‘Look what they’ve done for me!’ She jiggles her own rather ample chest and I have to admit to being impressed. If they can hold that, they can certainly cope with my offering.

  ‘Might be a bit of overkill for me.’ I edge off to look at something that has caught my eye.

  You’d have to be colour blind for it not to have done.

  ‘Wow, this red is so, red.’ I touch the nearest satin bra tentatively, and my fingertip slides across the luxurious material in such a way that leaves me unable to resist. I need to feel it properly. I don’t know about seduction, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off myself if I bought this. ‘Oh my God, this is far too nice to let somebody rip off!’ Just the thought of the beautiful bra being flung onto the floor in a heap is horrible, but the sound of ripping would kill dead any lustful thoughts I’m sure of it. I’d be out of bed and trying to work out if there really was such a thing as invisible seams. ‘I can’t.’ I can hear the longing in my voice. I want to. I really want to.

  Luckily the ping of my phone cuts in. Unluckily it is Noah.

  ‘You can’t buy that!’

  How the hell? I stare at the text, then spin round and he’s at the window.

  ‘Have you turned into a dirty old man!’ I’ve flung the shop door open and am yelling out of it before I can stop myself. People stare. So I grab him and drag him in.

  ‘Oh, I can come in now?’

  ‘No! This is temporary, you’re out again in a moment! You can’t look through the window like that. There’s names for people like you!’

  ‘Horny?’

  ‘Stop it! Has anybody ever told you what an infuriating man you are?’

  ‘Infuriating, sexy, good-looking.’ He winks. ‘Helpful?’

  ‘No, you are not helping. Why can’t you go and sit on the bench? I’ve only been in here for two minutes!’

  ‘Well one, I’m not a dog, you can’t just tell me to sit.’ Reasonable. ‘Two, you’ve been in here at least ten minutes and don’t seem to be getting anywhere.’ I glare. ‘And three, I just came to see what had happened to that coffee, and I couldn’t help …’ He grins. ‘You can’t blame a man for looking!’

  Rach hands him a mug of coffee. ‘I love this girl, Noah. Love her!’

  I’m about to launch into an explanation of the situation again, when it dawns on me that I’ll be wasting my breath. Instead I wave my mobile at him. ‘What do you mean, I can’t buy that?’

  All of a sudden, I really do want to buy that lingerie, more than I’ve ever wanted to buy an undergarment in my life. I’m tempted to clutch it to my chest and refuse to let go. ‘Why not?’

  Noah laughs. ‘Pink.’

  I frown.

  ‘You need pink, not red.’

  ‘I want red!’ It really is the most gorgeous colour. ‘I thought we were after seductress.’

  ‘Are you two setting up an escort agency?’ Rach has folded her arms and is watching us with a bemused look on her face. Noah ignores her.

  ‘More temptress.’ He waggles a finger at me. ‘Don’t want you to scare them off, do we?’

  ‘I’m not scary!’

  ‘You’re awesome, but you don’t take prisoners, do you, Rosie-Posie?’

  I roll my eyes. ‘Please don’t call me that, or I’ll call you.’ Why don’t many words rhyme with Noah? ‘Or I’ll think of something!’

  ‘Just call me Mr Wonderful. Now come on, hurry up and get your knickers off,’ he looks at his watch, ‘we’ve got a lot to cram in.’

  Rach chuckles, I glow like a well-prepared barbecue, and Noah takes a sip of coffee.

  ‘Not too scary, remember? You’re far too big a personality to need red. Red is for the meek and mild.’

  ‘Really? That doesn’t sound right! Nobody meek would wear …’

  ‘Pink. Believe me.’ His voice has a firm edge; it sounds pretty seductive actually. He takes a step closer and studies me with a dark, smoky gaze that makes me feel a bit topsy-turvy. He puts a finger under my chin, so that I can’t help but stare back into his eyes. ‘You’ve still got to be you, Rosie. Honestly, this isn’t about me getting my kicks from knowing you’ve got new knickers, it’s about you feeling good. Don’t sexy knickers make you feel, well, sexy? Pampered?’

  I nod. My vocal cords don’t seem to be working.

  He makes me feel sexy. Pampered. He makes me feel like what I want, who I am, matters.

  ‘Good.’ His voice has a husky edge that makes me shiver inside.

  We stare at each other for a moment. My throat is parched. ‘Pink?’ I dampen my dry lips.

  ‘Pink.’ Oh my, how can a voice be that sexy?

  My heart is hammering, and his eyes seem to be getting darker by the second.

  I can imagine his finger sliding down my neck, straying along my breastbone. There’s a prickle of awareness down my spine and I can practically feel the heat of his touch.

  I want to flap my top and let some air in, but I can’t move.

  Oh my God, what if he kisses me now?

  ‘Good, great, glad we go that sorted out. I’ll wait outside.’ He nods, then rather abruptly breaks eye contact, spins round and heads towards the bench, pausing to look over his shoulder. ‘Tell me when you’ve picked.’ The soft tone has gone, we’re all business again, and I feel strangely abandoned.

  It’s weird, like he’s thrown a bucket of cold water over things. Just as I was starting to get into the whole sexy undies thing. Rach is an expert though, she knows just what will work.

  ‘What have you done to him?’

  ‘Er, nothing. We’re not going out, we’re friends, kind of.’ Why did I start this? It’s far too complicated to explain but I need to make that clear. I am not a girlfriend he is treating to new knickers that he will enjoy ripping off. I am also not investing in a brothel. I am investing in a makeover that other men will benefit from.

  I am investing in me. I try on the pink undies. They caress my skin, boost my boobs and make me feel, well, special.

  Annoyingly, Noah is right. The pink suits my skin tone. They are me.

  I have an impulsive urge to rush out and show him. But I don’t. I give them one last stroke before they’re popped into a bag.

  ***

  ‘Oh my God you’ve got legs!’ And just like that, the jokey version of Noah is back, and it is so unexpected and nice it makes me
grin. There are definitely certain sides to him that are nothing at all like my dad.

  ‘I’d fall over otherwise!’ I grin, then pause. ‘Not too short?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  I shake my head slowly. It doesn’t feel too short. ‘It feels just right.’

  After our lingerie shop experience, we’d wandered down the high street until I’d stopped abruptly because of the dress. You know how sometimes you can spot clothes that you instantly fall in love with, but then tell yourself that they’re too expensive, you’d never wear them, your boyfriend wouldn’t like them or something like that? Normally I’d stare for a few minutes, then walk on. But today, with Noah by my side, it’s different.

  Clothes shopping with Noah is amazing. ‘Go on, try it. You know you want to!’ He’d nudged me.

  ‘I suppose I could, I mean I don’t have to buy it.’

  ‘True.’

  Okay I admit that my standards might have slipped, I wear nice not sexy. Lived in. Com-for-table. I like that word. It is one of my favourites. Even the sound of it is nice. Relaxing.

  I guess when I was younger, I did make an effort. But you don’t really think ‘sexy’ when you’ve been with the same guy forever, do you? I’ve never had to put a massive effort in to impress anybody. I’ve forgotten how much I used to enjoy dressing up, looking good, feeling good about myself. Robbie never even seemed to notice what I was wearing, how I looked.

  And his mum, though wonderful in so many ways, wasn’t exactly a style guru. She was more interested in crocheting cardigans for poorly animals.

  But Noah does care how I look. And now I am wearing this beautiful dress, I can’t help but show him.

  ‘If it feels right then it is right. Sensational legs!’ He whistles, which makes me strangely pleased. So I dive back into the changing room and study my legs.

  We do a tour of town. Shops I’ve never been in – I tend to buy off the internet, it’s easy, no embarrassing changing rooms, no wasted time huffing and puffing and feeling hot and bothered. And I know what I like, what fits me.

  Apparently though, now I’ve been let loose and encouraged by Noah, I seem to have discovered that what I like and what I need are two different things.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ shouts Bea, as I stagger back into the bookshop fighting a losing battle with all my carrier bags.

  ‘Sorry I’m a bit late,’ I say breathlessly. I can’t get near my watch to see the time, but it has to be late.

  ‘No probs. Where’s the hunk?’

  ‘He’s gone back to work.’ I drop my bags behind the desk. ‘And don’t call him hunk.’

  ‘When are you seeing him again?’

  ‘We have an appointment,’ I say primly, ‘tomorrow.’

  ‘Wow, look at this.’ Bea is delving into my bags, lingerie first.

  ‘Stop it.’ I slap her hands and try and grab the bag off her, but I’m too late.

  ‘He really is taking this seriously!’ She giggles. Holding up my new satin bra and knickers. ‘Oh my God, Rosie! This guy is thorough.’

  ‘He didn’t pick them, I did! He’s not even seen them!’

  ‘Yet! Is he going to test out ripping them off?’

  ‘Shush.’ I bundle together all my bags and back away from her holding them protectively close. ‘I’m putting these in the back room, and no peeking!’

  ‘So, he might?’

  ‘No, he will not be ripping anything off! Have you any idea how much this stuff costs?’

  ‘Speculate to accumulate, as my dad used to say! So, what is he going to do if he’s not allowed to rip this stuff off?’

  ‘See what the results of my makeover are.’

  ‘What, and if he gets a hard-on, you’ve passed?’

  ‘Eurgh, you are so disgusting at times! It’s not all about sex you know!’

  ‘I think you’ll find it is. Sex, power and money!’

  ‘Bollocks! I’m going to re-order the religious section and clear my mind of your filth!’

  Unfortunately, my mind does not clear of filth. I have to apologise to the books, because every time I think about my new sexy underwear, I think of him. Noah.

  The look he gave me when he asked me how my luxury undies made me feel is branded across my brain. For that moment, it was as though my answer was all he was interested in, I was all he was interested in.

  I close my eyes and can feel the warmth of his hand against my chin.

  And then he lets his hand drift down my neck, my chest.

  I can feel Noah tracing a finger over the lace of my bra, sending a shiver down my spine and making me beg for the touch of his mouth. Noah devouring my pink knickers with his eyes, then slowly stripping them off (he is of course doing this with due reverence – no ripping involved – they cost a fortune) with his capable warm hands.

  I blink. Put my hand over my throat to chase away the fantasy of his touch. I’m being ridiculous, like some silly schoolgirl with a crush on her teacher.

  I must not think about him in that way.

  It is wrong. Very wrong. Noah has no place in my knickers.

  So is Bea. Wrong that is, about it all being about sex. If life really does just boil down to sex, power and money then I’m screwed (though not in the sense she means).

  My phone pings with an incoming message.

  ‘A* for that lesson! Homework – decide what else you’d like to change and do it! Noah.’

  Chapter 10

  Devastated.

  Noah texted to say that he had to cancel our lesson on Thursday. Up to the eyes in redesigning a building due to planning objections was his official line. But maybe he doesn’t want to do this? Maybe after our shopping trip he realised I was either a. a lost cause, or b. he wanted to go out on proper dates.

  I spent two hours berating myself for being so pathetic and caring about a cancelled lesson, then another hour drinking wine and eating popcorn before the second longer text came in saying he was really sorry, and he’d make it up to me.

  ‘I’ll add in an extra free lesson! Noah’

  ‘But I don’t pay!! Rosie.’

  ‘Aha, on the ball as ever! Have to make it up to you some other way.’

  He signed off with a winky face that made me disproportionality happy.

  Totally out of proportion. I mean, why should I care this much either way?

  Apart from the fact that I have told Mum I will be bringing a date to her party and Noah seems to be my only hope at the moment, and every time he cancels a date, he decreases the probability of me achieving my aim. So therefore, him adding a bonus lesson in has to be worth celebrating, yes? Great!

  But the initial disappointment is bothering me. My heart used to plunge like that when I’d been waiting for Dad for three hours, only to be told that he’d had to cancel his flight.

  I’m beginning to depend on him. Rely on him, like I relied on Dad.

  This is not good.

  If there is one thing I’ve always been determined to be, it’s independent. Well, at least where men are concerned.

  But he’s not Dad. He did apologise, and he didn’t need to.

  Oh hell, am I making a massive mistake? Would I just be better hiring an escort? One from out of town that nobody will know (can you imagine the embarrassment if I hired him sight-unseen and he turned out to be the plumber, moonlighting for some extra cash?). I mean, I really do suck at this adult relationship lark. I’m a capable woman. I have a good job, friends, a nice home – isn’t that enough?

  It’s not though, is it? I liked having a boyfriend, I just did. Like some people like having a pet, I suppose. I just wish I could work out why I’m so rubbish at this and then maybe I could sort it out. Myself.

  Without risking getting too involved with somebody like Noah.

  Chapter 11

  This seduction business is bloody hard work. I’m not sure I’ve got time for it. The past few days have passed in a bit of a whirl. It went like this:

  Monday

  I
was woken by a deep vibration, of the mobile phone incoming text variety.

  ‘How’s the homework going? N x’

  Noah has taken to signing off on his texts with a kiss: this happened at some point during our exchange after he’d had to cancel Thursday. This is just like me signing off to Bea with one. We’re friends now, we (or rather I) have got over the awkward ‘is this a good idea?’ phase, as I’m positive he has absolutely no interest in me at all (on a proper date front) so I am safe.

  ‘Slight blip. R x’

  ‘???’

  ‘I need to find a new hairdresser.’

  After a long think yesterday, while soaking in the bath with a glass of white wine and my Kindle for company, I realised that one thing I had fancied doing for ages was getting a new really good haircut. Nothing too drastic, but maybe a bit shorter, and a bit more shaped, and maybe a few highlights, and well … okay, something that made me feel a bit sexier.

  My current hairdresser doesn’t really do sexy. She seems to specialise in trimming split ends off. Which, to be fair, is what I’ve been happy with. But I don’t come out feeling all swishy-haired and fabulous.

  ‘I’ll ask Sadie. Nx’

  I am safe. One hundred per cent safe on the ‘he’s got no interest in me’ front. Unfortunately, I’ve still got a few issues with getting my imagination under control. But I suppose fantasising about him is okay, if I know that it is completely one-sided. Which I do know. So nothing will happen. Even if I sort-of wanted it to. Which I don’t.

  ‘Sadie?’ Okay I know it’s none of my business, but I’m still slightly miffed if he meant what he’d jokingly said, that he had plenty of days to proper date around our lessons.

  Although I suppose I am being a bit hypocritical here – I’m going to be off dating other people as soon as I’m ready. Which hopefully will be soon. I’m running out of time.

  ‘Went out with her on Friday. Hang on. N x’