‘Ned. Do you want to sit down now?’ He waved his hand at the banquette and I promptly sat, like a plummeting pigeon. Off to another great start then.
There was a pause, which lengthened and was just fighting shy of awkward when I opened my mouth at the same time as him.
‘Do—’
‘Do—’
I let him carry on. ‘Do you come here often?’ He looked round at the décor with a barely concealed shudder.
My lips twitched but I felt on safer ground with this guy. With watchful brown eyes and a grave but gentle smile lurking around his mouth, he gave off an unassuming air.
‘I assume you’re being ironic.’ I grinned at him.
‘Of course. How about getting down to the nitty-gritty?’ His eyes kept politely shying away from my fake cleavage and looking at the abstract picture behind my head. ‘Do you have some pre-prepared questions à la blind date or shall we just go with the flow?’
‘I thought of some earlier, but...’ Now I wasn’t so sure. Having made such a spectacular idiot of myself with Anthony, I was loath to make it a double.
‘Go on. Let’s try one out for size.’ He leant his arms on the table moving closer. I checked them out. Slender forearms with dark hair — but not gorilla — and a chunky, trendy watch.
‘OK then. Rugby or football?’
‘Definitely football,’ he said, his face lighting up. ‘Been an Arsenal supporter man and boy.’
‘Tea or coffee?’
You’d have thought from the childish ‘yeugh’ face he pulled, I’d said cod liver oil or Babycham.
‘Neither. I don’t like hot drinks. Can’t stand all this cappuccino nonsense.’ He shook his head. ‘Give me pubs over coffee bars any day. Next one?’
‘OK, which superpower would you chose — invisibility or flight?’
He looked at me with stunned admiration, planting both elbows on the table, cupping his chin as a frown of concentration wrinkled his forehead.
‘Excellent question!’
I preened. ‘I thought so too,’ I replied not confessing that I’d stolen it from Ben, my lovely, vague brother who has a nice line in these surreal musings.
‘Phew. Difficult.’
I had to give him credit — he was giving the question plenty of consideration.
‘If I say invisibility... and I’m tempted... you might think I was a bit of a perv. But there’d be so many benefits.’ His face lit up as if a particularly naughty thought had crossed his mind. ‘Would you still be able to see my clothes or would I have to strip off to be, you know ... ?’
I hadn’t given it that much thought. My eyes strayed to the smooth line of his olive-green Timberland T-shirt — no bulging pecs, but no man boobs either. My gaze slipped further down.No podgy overhang clutching the top of his jeans which a lot of blokes get as they near thirty.
He caught my eyes straying downwards. I blushed. Oh God, did he think I was checking out his tackle.
‘No,’ I squeaked. ‘Invisibility cloak, I think, like in Harry Potter.’
His face crinkled in amusement. Nice brown eyes. Warm.
‘Now that would be cool.’ His eyes shone with the possibilities. ‘I think I’m going to have to nick your fantastic question. Do you think it will work on any of this lot?’
We peered round the corner of the banquette, scanning the uniform selection of streaked blondes with dead straight falls of hair in skinny jeans and ballerina pumps.
‘Mm, perhaps not. How good are you on shoes and handbags?’
His eyes widened in instant horror. I couldn’t help it, I laughed out loud at his panic.
