‘If this works out, you’ll be bunking with your new girlfriend in no time,’ I say.
He raises his packet of crisps, simulating a toast, and waits for me to return the gesture. I do so with my vaguely crumpled water bottle, meeting his soft, welcoming smile before snapping back to the list. We must keep this practical.
‘I think we should take it in turns to find accommodation. It keeps things fair and makes sure the labour doesn’t all fall to one person,’ I say.
He ponders for a moment. ‘Works for me. But you have got to lift your standards from that dump in Brussels.’
‘Noted.’
4. Take it in turns to find accommodation. Must be safe, clean and affordable.
‘I’m not made of money,’ I say as I add the last caveat.
‘Hey, neither am I. Once again, my place in Brussels was free.’ He tilts his head, thinking. ‘So, you have to go on seventy-nine more dates in the next six months. That’s what, like a date every two-ish days?’
‘Very quick maths.’ I give him a nod of approval, but he shrugs it off.
‘I’ve been thinking about it for a few days,’ he says dismissively. ‘Where do you stand on second dates? Are they allowed?’
I mull it over as I try to brush past his thoughts of me. When it came to pitching and planning my column, I never really considered that part. I think about what Analeise would say.
‘I suppose a second date is fine and narratively interesting. But it can’t go much further... I’ve got to keep the column fresh,’ I say.
‘Smart.’ He nods, before typing away again.
5. Amorie to go on minimum three dates a week. Second dates allowed, but nothing further unless Noah deems it ‘narratively interesting’.
‘Okay, fine, makes sense,’ I say. ‘Now one for you.’
I turn my keyboard back to me.
6. Noah cannot sleep with anyone until he can express how he feels about them to Amorie.
‘How Ifeel?’ He frowns. ‘That’s a bit extreme.’
‘You don’t have to tell them you love them or anything. But you’ve got to be able to at least tell me that you feel something other than lust towards them,’ I say.
‘And that something would be . . . ?’ he asks dubiously.
‘You’ll know when you feel it, trust me.’
He coos. ‘Aren’t you romantic.’ His smile makes my heart flutter.
‘Noah. Rule number one.’
‘That wasn’t flirting. Believe me, you’d know if I was flirting with you.’ He smiles deviously, his eyes boring into me as he prods for a reaction. I remain unamused as I return to the keyboard.
7. I’m serious. No flirting with each other.
He throws his head back in time with the end of my sentence, his laugh radiating an annoyingly alluring amount of joy. His arm knocks against mine as he chuckles and I feel those same sparksshoot through me again. They dart around my body rapidly, begging me to act on them.
‘I think that’s a good start.’ He turns towards his window. ‘Now do you mind if I try to fit in a quick nap before we get to Rotterdam?’
‘Of course not,’ I say, a strained smile on my face.
I feel a wave of relief as his eyes clamp shut and I relish my time alone. This can’t go on for six more minutes, let alone six more months. I read the rules on repeat until the train pulls up at Rotterdam Central.
. . .an invite
