‘I haven’t done much yet – any recommendations?’ I ask, playing it strategically safe.
It works. Her face lights up and she launches into a list of restaurants and sights, and tips of when to go and what to absolutely avoid. I type diligently into my notes app, bumbling over the spellings and trying so hard to focus on her words and not her cute, cute face. The more she talks, the more I sip my latte and ask questions, to which she sparks to life every time. Eventually, she glances over at her phone and her eyes widen.
‘Oh, I’ve got to go – my lunch is over! But it was nice to meet you, Amorie. How much longer are you here?’
‘Until Sunday,’ I say.
‘Perfect! I’m having a party at my place on Saturday night.’ She reaches across for my phone, which I hand over willingly. ‘I hope to see you there,’ she says as she types, then hands my phone back.
I look down at my notes app. An address and a phone number. Her number. In my phone.
‘Say you’ll come,’ she says, looking me over one more time.
It’s forward. Forward enough to make my stomach flutter, before dropping at the thought that she might just be really friendly. But I nod anyway.
‘I will,’ I say.
She smiles cheerily. Then she downs the last of her latte and saunters out the door, leaving me to freak out at our table alone.
. . .a house party
‘Date number two!’
Noah cheers as he strolls through my door triumphantly, wielding a bottle of beer and a plastic cup of cheap wine. Then he saunters over to the bed, smoothing down a small corner before perching himself lightly on it.
It’s no surprise that the thirty-seven-euro single room lacks certain amenities, like a desk, a chair and any walkable floor space, but I was not going to let that stop me from inviting Noah in for a pre-party briefing. Tonight is too important to get dressed without friend approval and Noah is the closest thing that I have to a jury of my peers.
‘Not necessarily! I’m still trying to figure that out.’ I hold my arms out and turn for emphasis, prompting a friendly smile as he studies me carefully.
‘I like it.’ He passes me my cup.
‘But is it enough?’ I huff, turning again. ‘I need something that’s carefree, cute and sexy in a low-key way. I can’t look like I’ve tried.’
I take a swig from the glass and am pleasantly surprised. Sweet, but strong. Not bad for the cheapest bottle I requested Noah find in a store.
‘Turn again,’ he says. I oblige. ‘Yeah, I think it hits the mark.’
I look to the mirror – wide-leg jeans, corset top, dainty necklace and hoops. It’s a classic – basic for all the right reasons. But is it enough for a potential date with an incredibly gorgeous girl? I storm into the bathroom to change.
‘So, why don’t you think it’s a date?’
He raises his voice so it carries through to my makeshift changing room. I shimmy out of my jeans, letting out a long sigh as I attempt to put the situation into words.
‘I tend to be pretty bad at gauging whether someone is into me in general, but I find it even harder with girls,’ I explain through the wall. ‘She was smiley and touchy-feely, and really welcoming, but she could have equally asked me out or just been a super-friendly straight girl who could tell I needed a friend.’
‘Youhavea friend,’ he says, a smattering of hurt in his voice.
I poke my head out of the bathroom to spot him clutching his beer and pouting.
‘I can have more than one friend,’ I say, before hurrying back into the bathroom and pulling the T-shirt dress over my head.
I wait for him to object, but as I emerge in outfit number two I see his face has settled into a much gentler smile. Clearly my statement was the confirmation he needed that we are, indeed, friends after all.
‘I preferred number one,’ he says.
‘But do you thinkshewould?’ I ask, twisting as I stare at myself in the mirror.
‘I don’t know her. But she should be so lucky to have you in any form.’
