Love Connection (A Feel Good Romantic Comedy) Page 10
Ping.
My phone bleeps. I unlock the screen and see with a jolt that it’s Richard. This is a surprise. We exchanged numbers the night we met, but I’ve never texted him, and up until today, he’s never texted me either. After a month, I thought he wasn’t going to.
I read the text.
Hey beautiful
Hey you
Where’ve u been hiding? Been a while
Crazy couple of weeks @ work
It’s as good an excuse as any.
I thought I’d say hello
What do I reply? The only thing I can think of is hello, but it seems pretty lame. I bite my lower lip, trying to decide what to write when Richard saves me by texting again.
What r u up to?
Movie night
With Amelia?
No, alone
I’m so pathetic.
Watching anything good?
No, only bad movies for me
Define bad
Set unrealistic expectations about life
By life, you mean love?
I do :)
What about u?
Doing anything special tonight?
I’m distracted from the screen by Amelia appearing on the living room threshold looking devastatingly hot in an illusion-yoke lace dress. I wolf whistle at her.
“I see we’ve brought out the heavy artillery. What’s the occasion?”
Ping.
“First official date with Dylan,” Amelia says, out of breath.
“Oh, so you’ve finally stopped sneaking to the copy room and made it official?”
“You think I’m wrong? I’m so nervous… This is crazy. I’m crazy. He’s a coworker, and it’s definitely too early for me to be out there dating. I should cancel. Yeah, I should definitely cancel. This was a bad idea.”
Ping.
“It wasn’t a bad idea, and you didn’t spend two hours getting ready to cancel. Where’s the kisser taking you?”
“Stop calling him that. And I don’t know, he said it was a surprise.”
Ping.
“Who’s sending you all these texts, anyway?” Amelia asks.
“Oh, no one.”
“No one, uh? Does no one work with me, by any chance?”
“He may. Why? You know something?”
“I may. Let me see.”
“No.”
We both make a dive for the coffee table, but, stiletto heels notwithstanding, she’s quicker in reaching the phone. Her eyes navigate the chat, and before I can stop her, she’s typing.
“What are you doing? Stop typing. Give me my phone back.”
I’m ready to wrestle it out of her hands when she gives it back.
“There, you’re all set for the night.”
I quickly read the last three messages from Richard and her reply.
I was hoping to watch bad movies with a beautiful girl
Also, I happen to be at Tesco and I’ve just bought popcorn
…Any ideas what I should do with it?
Why don’t you come over?
“You didn’t just do that. It makes me seem so forward.”
“I so did. You were flirting already on your own. I just gave you a little push.”
“Down the cliff. What am I going to do now?”
“I suggest you make your casual homey attire a little more casual-chic and perhaps put on a bit of makeup.”
Ping.
“What does he says?” Amelia asks.
“That he’d love to come over. Did you say something about me to Richard?”
“No. He kept asking about you, and I told him that if he wanted to see you all he had to do was ask.”
“And when did you decide to use my phone to have me ask him instead?”
“That was a whim.”
“Now I’m screwed and you’re the worst friend ever!”
“Now, instead of a night spent moping, you have a hot date. Have fun and don’t stay up too late.”
She puts on her coat, grabs her bag, and exits the apartment with a wink.
Aaaarrrghhhh! I could kill her.
I rush into the bathroom and throw my pajama top on the floor, kicking it under the sink. I quickly wash my face and armpits, spray myself with deodorant, and apply some concealer and blush. In my room, I switch my sweat pants for skinny jeans and put on a super simple white blouse. I run back into the bathroom, throw my head forward and ruffle my hair with my fingers, hoping to obtain some volume. Amelia, the nerve of her! She spends two hours getting ready for her date and leaves me a twenty-minute warning at best.
The doorbell rings, interrupting my mental bashing of my best friend.
I jerk my head backward and fluff my hair to achieve a perfectly styled messy look. I check myself out in the mirror, and when I’m satisfied with my appearance, I go to open the door.
On the landing, Richard’s smiling, holding a Tesco bag in one hand and a paper parcel in the other. Something smells like burgers.
Richard greets me with a smile. “I come bearing gifts.”
“What gifts?”
“Oh. I was passing this little kiosk I love; they make the best burger sliders, so I thought I’d buy a few.”
“You brought me burgers?” I’m already salivating. “This is unfair play, but I like your style.” I usher him inside and hug him, feeling slightly awkward.
This is the first time I’ve seen him after the night we met. And even if that night was cool, we stayed solidly on just-friends territory. I had fun with him, but we didn’t kiss or anything. So I feel nervous being alone in my apartment with him. Is this really a date?
I let Richard go, but not before relieving him of the burgers bag. I open it and I’m hit by a divine fragrance of grilled meat. “Can we eat them right away?”
“Sure, I’m a wise man. I wouldn’t deny you burgers.”
I point at the big table. “Have a seat.”
I empty the bag of deliciousness onto a plate and bring two more to the table along with some paper napkins. I don’t even wait to be seated before I munch on half a slider.
“So you bring burgers to all your girls or is it just me?”
“I’ll admit they usually prefer roses, but with you, it seemed a safer bet.”
“It was. I’d pick burgers over roses any day. And you should know I’m much more amiable on a full stomach; I haven’t had dinner yet.”
After dinner, Richard sags onto the couch. “So what are we watching?”
I put a bag of butter popcorn in the microwave and walk toward the TV stand. “Mmm, Amelia bought me a DVD set of eighties movies with Molly Ringwald—she’s my favorite actress. So we have: Pretty in Pink, Sixteen Candles, and The Breakfast Club. Any preference?”
Richard smiles bravely and shrugs. “Not really.”
Pop. Pop. Po-Pop. The popcorn explodes in the background.
“I’m joking. I wouldn’t really subject you to Molly Ringwald night.” I smile. “I’m not that evil.”
“You had me there. I was scared.”
“As for men friendly movies, we have Netflix or,” I brush my finger over the DVD shelf, scrolling titles, “I can offer The Terminator collection, or we can watch something by Tarantino—I have all his movies except Kill Bill.” ’Cause I trashed the DVD as it reminded me too much of my ex. No, Jake’s a taboo thinking topic tonight. “Or there’s the entire X-Men saga.”
“Since you were set on the eighties, why not watch the first Terminator?”
“Great!”
When the popping ends, I put the popcorn in a huge bowl and pass it to Richard. Then, I put the DVD on, turn down the lights, and sit next to him on the couch.
I try to concentrate on the movie, but Richard’s presence beside me is too distracting. What’s going to happen when the movie’s over? What should I do?
I still have feelings for Jake, deep ones. I can’t undo them. But if I can’t be with
him, and that boat has definitely sailed, why not be with Richard? I know I’m not going to fall head over heels in love with him overnight, my stupid heart won’t let me. But I could give it a push. I could move on physically before I have emotionally. I’ve always believed it would be the other way around, but I believed in so many things that in the end weren’t true.
I throw a sidelong glance at Richard—his broad shoulders, dark hair, very kissable lips. There’s still a giant hole in my chest that seems to grow bigger, instead of smaller, every day. Maybe Richard could fill this hole. Or maybe I don’t have the faintest clue who I am or what I need anymore. Or maybe I never knew. Or maybe I need to stop over-analyzing everything and just kiss him.
Tonight I feel stupid and reckless enough to choose the latter option.
***
The next morning Amelia walks back in the house with a smile so wide stamped on her face it makes me want to puke for sugary overflow.
“So,” I smirk, thoroughly enjoying her walk of shame, “how was your date with the love maker?”
“Love maker? Seriously?”
“You told me to stop calling him the kisser and I assume after last night you’ve evolved to more serious bonding.” I grin. “Am I assuming correctly?”
“I don’t kiss and tell.”
“If you don’t, I won’t either.”
“Wait, you kissed Richard?”
I shrug oh-so-casually. “Maybe.”
“No! Tell me everything.” She joins me at the kitchen table and I pass her a coffee mug.
“He arrived twenty minutes after you left and he brought me burgers.”
“I knew the guy was smart.”
“We ate dinner, we watched Terminator, and while all the Sarah Connors were being killed, I kissed him.”
“You made the first move?”
“I did. But Richard didn’t seem displeased about it.”
“Is he a good kisser?”
“He’s a wonderful kisser.”
“Was it only kisses?”
“There was heat, but we stayed solidly on clothes-on ground. He sensed I wasn’t one hundred percent ready yet.”
“Are you seeing him again?”
“Yes, we have a date next Saturday.”
“So you like him?”
“Of course I do. What’s not to like? He’s handsome, easy going, and he brought me burgers.”
“And he kissed some sense into you, apparently.”
“He did. Jake’s still there in the back of my head. But at least I’m not thinking about him all the time.”
Amelia rolls her eyes.
“What about you and Dylan?”
She smiles wickedly and tells me about her night of passion.
Thirteen
Lucky
♥♥♥
Friday, July 28—London
Jake’s first month in London doesn’t go as smoothly as it could have. My apartment’s a bit cramped with three people living in it. We step on each other’s toes more often than not, and it isn’t exactly the romantic love nest I’d hoped for. But I can tell Amelia’s glad she isn’t alone in her darkest hours. She needs us after her confrontation with Will. She needs us after meeting with the divorce lawyers—I refer her to the best divorce counselor in town. And she needs us when the house she loves so much and has invested in so much emotionally is put on the market.
Lately, Amelia has been more cheerful than one would expect, given the circumstances, and she finally found a nice one-bedroom apartment to rent last week. She seems eager to move out of my apartment and move on with her life. She’s already moved most of her things from her old house—which sold three days after they put it on the market—to the new apartment. Right now, I’m helping her pack her last bag of clothes in my spare room before a black cab comes to pick her up in an hour.
“Are you sure you’re going to be all right on your own?” I ask her.
“Yes, I’m sure, and…”
She mumbles something unintelligible.
“What was that again?”
“I said Dylan might pop over.”
“Dylan the kisser?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“I didn’t know he was still in the picture.”
“Well, he’s been really nice to me since, you know, I threw a mug at him.”
“Pottery-throwing is a sure way to a man’s heart.”
“Anyway, we had a drink the other night after work. And we might’ve kissed again,” she says with a mischievous smile.
There’s the reason for the positive attitude. Amelia has a crush!
“Is that the night you came home outrageously late?”
“Yep.”
“And here I was worrying they were overworking you at such a stressful time. Instead there you were making out in bars.”
“Guilty as charged. And I may have kissed him at the office a couple more times too. Or a lot more times.”
“Oh, gosh. You’re having an office romance, this is wonderful. Just what you needed after, err…”
“You mean filing for divorce and waving my ex-husband off to New York to live happily ever after with his mistress?”
“I-I, that’s not what…”
“Don’t worry, it’s okay. We can talk about it. I can even say the word divorcee without shivering too much.”
“So this Dylan guy, are we going to meet him?” I steer the conversation away from divorce talk.
“Let me see where this goes. I’m not sure if he’s a rebound fling or something more.”
“You mean you could potentially see it getting serious?”
“I’ve no idea, but he makes me feel as if I’m a teenager again. I’m kissing him all over the office, in the halls, outside the restrooms, in the copy room. It’s like making out in high school when you had to avoid being caught. It’s been so exciting, and he’s a breath of fresh air.”
“Does he have a Facebook profile?”
“Yes, why?”
“I want to see a pic. Put a face to a name.”
“Oh, all right.” She takes her phone from the bed where we’re folding clothes and taps happily into it. “Here, this is him.” She gives me the phone.
“You pulled up David Beckham’s fan page.”
She takes the phone back to check. “No, this is Dylan’s profile picture.”
I snatch the phone from her. “You’re joking!”
“I’m not.”
“Well, well, well… you’re in trouble.”
“I might be.” She blushes.
“You’re making out at the office. That’s so fun. Have you ever been caught?”
“Yeah, definitely.”
“That’s not too bad.”
“It is. We were spotted by the worst office gossips ever. Flotsam and Jetsam.”
“Named after the Sea Witch minions?”
“Yeah, Felicia and Jackie. Two charming ladies, you should meet them. Anyway, it’s not all bad they saw us. They were giving me a hard time about the divorce.”
“Were they?”
“Yeah, it was mortifying.”
“So they’ve stopped now?”
“Yep, they’re too busy spreading the news they caught me having wild sex in the copy room.”
“Did they… I mean, were you?”
“No. Of course, not.”
“And you don’t mind?”
“It’s better than divorce sneers, and,” Amelia smiles a naughty smile, “Dylan might’ve caught them gossiping. He told them off pretty harshly. They’ve been quiet and subdued for a while now. I suspect they both have a crush on him.”
“The more you talk about the kisser, the more I like him.”
“Well, don’t get your hopes up too much. I’m still not sure where it’s all going.”
“But have you slept with him?”
“No, not yet.”
“You plan to?”
“Ev
entually, if things keep going. I’m a bit scared; Will’s the only guy I’ve slept with in so many years.”
“I’m sure Dylan would be more than happy to tutor you.” I chuckle.
Amelia swats me playfully. “If he sticks.”
I don’t tell her, but from the way she’s radiating happiness I predict Dylan’s going to go a long way.
Amelia closes the zip on her last bag and we walk to the street corner where we wait for the black cab. When it arrives, I hug her and see her off, telling her to call me if she needs anything and to have as much fun as she can tonight, even if somehow I don’t think I need to tell her—Dylan’s taking care of that.
When I get back inside the house, Jake has returned from work and he’s sitting, shoulders hunched forward, on the couch with a miserable air about him.
“Hey you, why the long face?” I ask, shutting the door behind me. “Is it the prospect of being alone with me again?”
He looks up at me and I see he’s white as ash and has a grave expression.
“Jake, what’s going on?” I ask, worried.
“Mew.” A furry black bundle replies from his lap.
“Who’s this little guy?” I do a silly talking-with-babies voice and pick up the black kitty from Jake’s lap, bringing it close to my face. “Hello you, you’re so cute. Oh, you’re so cute.” I lower the kitten onto my lap and scratch it behind the ears. It kneads my jeans for a while, purring, then settles in my lap. “Jake, please talk to me. How come you’ve got a kitty and look so sad? What happened?”
“It’s Sisi.”
“The hospital stray cat?”
“Yes. She-she died today.”
“Oh. How?”
“Hit by a car, but I can’t be sure. She was waiting for me in her usual spot. I knew something was wrong at once because she was standing a bit lopsided and she was holding this little guy in her mouth. I crouched down to pat her, and she collapsed almost immediately. She nudged the kitten toward me with her head and she was gone.”
“Jake, I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t know why I’m so sad. Bad things happen every day at work. But the thought that she waited for me, that she trusted me with the most precious thing she had…” Jake shakes his head.