‘Nope, delete that.’ I attempt to snatch my phone back.
I never wanted that photo near my profile to begin with. Paige and I argued for hours because she said I ‘looked so darn cute’, and I stressed that ‘cute’ was not what I wanted in my mid-twenties. Eventually I only gave in because Paige is so impossibly stubborn, but I shoved it right to the bottom of my shots in the hope that no one would pay attention at that point.
‘Absolutely not. In fact, I’m moving it first. Ooh, and then this one.’
His finger hovers over a jokily-posed restaurant shot. I cringe at the peace sign and pursed lips, and shake my head.
‘It’s good that you don’t take yourself too seriously!’ he says. ‘And then we can go with the club one, because... well... I’m sure you know, you look great. There, that’s better!’
I reach for my phone and scroll through the set of photos yet again. He smiles proudly and starts to stand, but I pull him back down. Thanks to his counter-attack, I almost forgot phase two of my plan. He’s not going anywhere yet; there’s still work to be done.
. . .a boat in the water
‘Maybe this was a bad idea,’ I say.
I shove my hands further in my pockets as we amble towards the water. Initially I placed them there out of nerves, but the longer we walk the more I realise what a godsend it is. Strolling on the grass and through the beautifully bloomed parks and artsy side streets was great during the day, but, as the sun begins to droop lower in the sky, the evening has unearthed a new chill. That’s what I get for treating spring like it’s summer, just because I’m on an extended holiday.
‘Chill,’ Noah says. ‘This is going to be fun.’
His face is overcome with joy as he practically skips towards the meeting point. The way he was acting you would think this washisstupid plan, but no. This bright idea was entirely mine.
‘Fun foryou, maybe. I found a real winner,’ I say, bragging.
‘And you don’t think I picked well with Henry?’ he asks.
‘Hendrik,’ I correct him. ‘Our texts have been fine, I guess. But, ugh, I don’t know. I just hate online dating.’
‘I know. That’s why we’re leaning in slowly and conquering this one together.’
In hindsight, I don’t know why I suggested that we use our profiles to pick dates for each other. It gave Noah way too much power – power that went right to his head.
‘What if he’s a catfish? Or a murderer? Or one of those guys who claps when the plane lands?’ I start fretting.
‘If he’s a catfish I’ll laugh, if he’s a murderer we’ll run, and if he’s a clapper we’ll have to boot him into the water there and then.’
After meticulously scanning the apps for someone for me, Noah settled on tonight’s date, Hendrik, a personal trainer in the city with a penchant for pedal-boating, apparently.
‘Henrik will be fun!’ he says.
‘Hendrik,’ I correct him again.
‘And if he’s not, you can quite literally jump ship to our boat. That was the point of this – to have each other’s backs.’
No, the point was to watch him presumably squirm on a serious date. Yet here he is, taking it in his stride.
Hendrik is already waiting by the canal’s edge when we rock up, and I do an internal jump for joy that his pictures accurately represent the man standing before me. He’s tall and muscular, with sandy-blonde hair that flops to the side as his head tilts to take me in. I shrink into my jeans, Converse and camisole as his eyes very slowly scan me from top to bottom.
‘You’re good-looking,’ he says, after what feels like for ever.
His tone is clinical, like a factory seal of approval.
‘Thank you,’ I say, smiling.
It’s tight and strained, but for that I blame the nerves.
Noah insists we go ahead and rent our boat while he waits for his date alone. She’s texted that she’ll be ten minutes more, which I insist is a fine time to wait with him but one glance at Hendrik’s face and I can see he disagrees. So we amble down to the port and Hendrik talks to the operator, kindly paying for the both of us despite my obvious reach for my purse. Then he makes his way into our boat before holding out a hand to help me. I hold my breath and suck in my stomach, and pray that I look cute and graceful.
As we sit I can see Noah strolling over to the operator, hand in hand with a beautiful, raven-haired woman. She throws herhead back and laughs, and he pulls her in closer – an act that makes her blush profusely. Her hair catches the last of the setting sun, shine rippling off the long waves that bounce behind her while she walks. He’s smiling. I’d say beaming, even. I make a mental note to hold my matchmaking skills over him when we get back.
