“She sounds great, Dad. I’m really happy for you,” I say, beaming at him.
“Me too. Hey, maybe we can meet her at Christmas,” Adrian suggests.
“Slow down!” Dad starts. “We’ve only been on one date. Don’t want to scare her off too soon with talk of meeting the family.”
“Yeah, Adrian,” I say, shaking my head at him. “Be cool.”
“And on that note, I have to go back to work,” Adrian says, laughing. “Talk soon. Way to go with Harriet, Dad, and Freya, time to get back on that horse. You had a bad fall; the only way to get over it is to haul yourself back up. Otherwise the fear takes hold.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I’ll work on it.”
We say our goodbyes, wave at the screen, and hang up. Swilling my chilled wine round the glass, I sit back, Adrian’s advice whirring round my head.
It’s not like I haven’t thought about dating recently. Obviously, it’s crossed my mind now that I’m officially single. I do spend a lot of time watching videos on YouTube of corgis shaking their fluffy butts to upbeat music. It’s probably time to get out there and attempt scintillating conversation with other humans.
There’s quite a few good-looking men at this bar, actually. East London is full of cool, trendily dressed guys, so maybe I should…
Wait a second. I think… I think Jamie might work somewhere around here. I mean, he has to, everyone else in this bar looks just like him! Well, sort of. They don’t have his je ne sais quoi, but I would happily bet that some of these people work at independent breweries and consider my job supremely inferior even though I could kick their butts at a tasting any day of the week.
Jamie.
I get that weird tingling feeling again and suddenly feel nervous. I haven’t even seen him yet, but just thinking about him makes my stomach knot. Every now and then I’ll think of him and have this same reaction. I’ve thought about messaging him, but I always talk myself out of it. Would that be weird? Would he even want to see me?
I want to see him.
I smile as I think it. I want to see Jamie. And do you know what? It’s so nice to feel excited about someone. About a guy. After feeling so confused and vulnerable for the last few months, it feels good to get butterflies.
We had a spark. And that doesn’t happen often. At least, according to all the rom-coms I’ve been watching lately it doesn’t. And if I’ve learned anything from Julia Roberts and Cameron Diaz these past few weeks, it’s that you can’t let this sort of thing slip through your fingers, even if you’ve been through a crazy summer of trying to get over your ex when you haven’t really been trying at all.
I quickly get Maps up on my phone and google the Dancing Bear brewery. It’s a five-minute walk from where I amright this moment.It’s fate. I have to go see if he’s there. There’s a chance he might not be. He might have already gone home for the day. I shouldn’t get excited. This could be a completely pointless exercise.
Or it might not be.
After finally catching the attention of the waiter, I pay formy glass of wine and scramble my stuff together, rushing out of the bar, my eyes glued to the map on my phone. I start thinking about what to do if I see him. Oh god, whatamI going to say? I instinctively slow down, my feet dragging as my brain desperately attempts to come up with a plan, but it’s tooscrambledby the idea of potentially seeing Jamie again.
I wish I could call Ruby and ask for her opinion on whether I should be dropping in on him at work in the first place and, if it is a good idea, then what on earth I should be saying, but she’s at a dinner with Leo’s school friends this evening.
Bloody couples and their bloody couple dinners.
The Dancing Bear building looms into view. It looks just as I imagined it, down to the young hipsters sitting on the picnic benches dotted about wonkily in front of the brewery, drinking pints and stroking their beards while talking about Nietzsche.
(I made up the bit about Nietzsche. I have no idea what they’re talking about.)
I wander in through the doors, stepping into a vast, cold warehouse-type room with high ceilings and metal barrels stacked around the edges. I’m about to approach one of the staff, when I suddenly realize a terrible, terrible thing.
I didn’t think about what I look like.
Oh my god. What have I done?What have I done?!
I was in such a tizzy to see Jamie again that I’ve just strolled in here in my old, baggy gym T-shirt and leggings, with any makeup I had on for work today sweating off and my unwashed hair scraped back in a scruffy ponytail.
I need to get out of here immediately.
I turn on my heel and start walking at pace toward the exit when I hear what no one in this situationeverwants to hear.
My name.
“Freya?”
