‘Allof them.’ A small laugh bubbled up her throat when she saw me grimace. Ireallyfucking hated clowns. Oliver teased me growing up because my fear came out of nowhere. We never even went to a circus growing up, and I didn’t watch horror movies until I was in my twenties. I wouldn’t call it afearso much as a strong aversion.
‘Wow, so the great George Blakedoeshave a weakness.’ Her laugh was like sunlight.
I stared at her, feeling her finger still tangled with mine. She hadn’t pulled away, and I wasn’t about to be the first person to break the connection.
‘Sweetheart, you have no idea.’
Energy sparked between us once more. Her smile went stiff, and she tugged her hand away, reaching to grab the rest of her drink. I clocked how her hand trembled subtly as she placed the glass down.
I turned the conversation back to her current predicament.
‘Are you admitting defeat after one date? You’re not usually one to give up.’
Her laugh was humourless. ‘Then I guess there’s a lot you don’t know aboutme.’
I didn’t say anything. Simply sat and watched her eyes shift through various hues as she tried and failed to stop herself from blurting out the truth.
‘I don’t know how to date, okay?’ She exhaled like the words carried a heavy weight, shoulders slumping. ‘I suck at it. Talking, getting to know someone, and having them ask questions about me… I can’t do it. That was the first date I’ve ever been on, and it royally sucked, and I’m willing to take about forty per cent of the blame for it being shit. The cricket thing really crushed the mood.’ She straightened up inher seat. ‘So, I’m going to get used to the fact that I’m going to be getting a cartoon character indelibly inked on my body in an undisclosed location. That’s fine. Totally fine, it’s all completely and utterly fine.’
‘Hang on a sec.’ I leaned forward, holding up a finger to stem the flow of words. My brain was locked onto one piece of information in her whole diatribe. ‘That was your first date?’
The expression on her face told me she hadn’t realised that nugget of information had slipped out. ‘I, uh—’ She looked everywhere but at me. ‘Well, it depends on what you classify as a date, really; I mean?—’
Getting the feeling she was gearing up for another verbal onslaught and having had enough of the distance between us, I reached down to the legs of her stool and yanked it so her knees interlocked with mine. She was close enough that I could hear a barely audible gasp escape her parted lips.
Giving up on keeping my restraint under tight control, I placed a hand on her thigh. When her head darted down to see where I gripped her, I lifted her chin with my other hand.
‘Sweetheart, was that your first date?’ No judgement laced my tone, just genuine curiosity.
Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. ‘That depends.’
‘On?’
‘How you’re defining “date”.’
‘Food. Drinks. Something planned in advance. Flirting and perhaps a goodnight kiss.’
Her brow creased. ‘Ah, in that case, yes. It was my first date. And my last.’
Why did hearing that make the devil on my shoulder shake in anger? Not anger at her, never at her. But at every guy she’d met who didn’t offer to take her out for dinner before he tried getting into her pants. Knowing Rosie, she would have walked away even if they offered.
A plan began to formulate in my head. A reckless, insane, utterly stupid plan that rivalled the time when I was six years old and became determined that I was going to go on a talent show and make it big as a rockstar. Forgetting that I’m tone deaf and the only talent I possess is my ability to keep an Orchid alive.
It was preposterous.
Swallow it down. Get up and leave.The angel on my other shoulder was waving a red flag, flagging down this train of thought and stomping its foot in frustration.
Then she looked at me. And everything went quiet. The noise fell to a distant hum, and the argument taking place in my mind went mute.
The dejection on her beautiful face was more than I could take.
‘Date me,' I blurted.
She blinked. As surprised as I was at the words coming out of my mouth.
‘Excuse me?’ she drawled.
Well, you’re in it now. Might as well go for gold. I dipped my head, showing her I wasn’t bullshitting.
