I follow it up with more beer and can’t tell which goes down worse, but I keep chugging anyway. I keep chugging all the way to the next bar.
. . .a perfect sandwich
I spot Sam instantly when he arrives. It’s hard not to, given his height. He’s got to be six foot five at least – almost a whole foot taller than me. He towers over Eléa as he hugs her, the two of them embracing tightly for longer than conventionally permissible. I can’t help but note the soft smile on his face as they hold each other. It’s the same one Noah had when the two of them met. She clearly brings something questionable out of the men she meets.
‘First impressions?’ Noah asks.
I sigh with relief as he hands me a glass of wine. This bar only gave beer for free too, but Noah stayed true to his word and bought me a red anyway. The two of us sip silently as we stare across the bar, watching the pair of them deep in their embrace.
‘He’s very tall,’ I say.
‘Don’t girls like that?’ he asks.
‘Let’s not generalise,’ I say warningly.
‘But theydo. Come on, don’t you?’
‘I mean . . . it’s nice?’
Noah nods. ‘That’s why I pride myself on being six three.’
He straightens up. He thinks he’s subtle, but it’s clear as day. In fact, I’d say he’s two drinks too far gone to attempt subtlety.
‘You’re six one at best.’
‘So, you’ve already taken account of my height,’ he says. ‘Any particular reason?’
I roll my eyes at his smug little face. ‘We spend a lot of time together; it’s hard not to notice.’
‘Don’t lie. You’vedefinitelyimagined how it would affect the height of our kids at least three or four ti... Ouch!’
I interrupt his teasing with a swift elbow to his biceps. Then I bring my attention back to myactualprospect for the night. He’s got a nice face. Or a nice left profile at least. That’s all I can see while he continues to hug Eléa. They’re whispering in each other’s ears. It looks incredibly tender from afar, so I can only imagine how intimate it feels closer up.
‘He’s really excited to meet you,’ Noah says before swigging his beer. ‘And he thinks your column sounds really cool.’
My heart stops, blood ice-cold.
‘He knows about my column?’ I ask.
‘El sent him the link! Although I doubt he’s read it.’
I panic. ‘Noah!’
‘Okay, he might have, I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.’
‘Why’d you let El tell him about it?’
The words leave my mouth in a loud, high-pitched squeak, but I’m too lost in my own thoughts to care. Not only am I about to go on a date with an Adonis of a man, but he knows I’m going to blast the whole thing online. What if he thinks he’s mymuse? I’ll throw up. This is all Noah’s fault for telling El in the first place.
‘Why wouldn’t she? You’re doing a really cool thing,’ Noah says.
‘For you, maybe. But for most guys it’s got to be a walking red flag.’
I bite down onto my bottom lip so hard I almost draw blood as I imagine him scrolling through my dating tirades. Why would he willingly subject himself to that? Noah brings me back into the room with a quick hand to my arm.
‘He showed up, so he clearly didn’t see any red. Plus, who wouldn’t want to date a romance columnist?’ he says. ‘That’s like an ultimate life hack, no? Dating an expert in dating?’
My heart restarts, this time quickened. This is worse than the outcomes I imagined. He probably thinks I’m a highly skilled serial dater. Who else would commit to eighty dates? What if he expects me to flirt masterfully or know serious things in the bedroom, and put my thousands of dates to the test? I can only disappoint – I barely know how to do this. I’ve only just started finding a rhythm and it’s still very slow. And now there’spressure. Pressure to be the fun, flirty girl from the column who, quite frankly, exists through a keyboard alone. This can only end badly.
