Nat tuts, throwing the knickers into the laundry basket and sitting me down. ‘These pants are not the one. How can you have the wardrobe of a stylish rainbow when all the while you’re hiding this dirty magnolia-coloured secret underneath?’
‘They’re just pants,’ I argue.
‘“Just pants” indeed. Please. You need to get some lingerie and you need to do it now. The type that errs on the side of too expensive.’
‘I think I’ll stick to buying basics from M&S. The last thing I need is to be dealing with a wedgie when I’m at work.’
Nat’s looking more violated by the minute. ‘I know what you’re thinking and you can stop right there. Wearing beautiful lingerie is empowering. It’s not about who might see it, it’s about how it makes you feel. If your tits are happy then the rest of you will follow, that’s my motto.’
‘Is it though?’ I laugh. But as I retrieve my knickers from her withering gaze and head upstairs to hang out my laundry, I wonder if Nat has a point. A little sexy lingerie couldn’t hurt, right? Especially as I have some Serious Plans for Zach on our next date.
So I take the tram out to Meadowhall. And yes, I do buy sexy underwear for a guy and yes I will have to repent at my next feminist meeting but honestly, it will be worth it. I arrive back at home with three new sets and a large dent in my bank balance. Later, I find myself wearing a peach plunge bra and briefs trimmed with tulle while I cook up a romantic storm in my kitchen.
Since my massive meltdown Zach and I have settled into a pace that suits both of us and I really feel like we’re connecting. Not long ago the thought would have had me running for the hills but now I’m actively enjoying it. I’m into Zach and I haven’t given the bolting option a second thought for ages. I like it. And tonight, I am planning the ultimate romantic dinner date to celebrate. Dylan’s back for the whole week and Nat’s staying at his parent’s house, leaving my house empty for Zach and me.
Somebody pop a Barry White playlist on, quick!
‘Oysters?’ Zach says, his eyebrows raised in a sexy-as-hell way. He looks good tonight. He’s wearing a T-shirt with an actual motif on it which feels ground breaking. The T-shirt is pale grey (sure) but across the front stretches a snow-capped mountain with a red sun setting behind it. Red! I love that he wears less muted colours now.
‘Oysters,’ I nod. ‘Shucked them myself.’
‘Lucky them,’ he says in that low voice of his, running a hand through his hair then down to his stubbled jawline.
Quite frankly I’m tempted to sack off cooking altogether and skip straight to the bedroom.
‘Champagne?’ I offer, my peach lacy boobs and I (plus the pale pink shirt-dress I threw on over the top for decency purposes) making our way to the fridge. I take two of Mum’s vintage champagne saucers from the kitchen cupboard and pop the cork while Zach leans against the counter, watching me.
‘Cheers,’ I say.
‘Saluti,’ he replies, and as we clink our glasses together I feel my whole body relax. How can someone give you goosebumps and make you feel content in equal measure? Is he a wizard?
We move easily around the kitchen together, him with a tea towel slung over his shoulder as he takes charge of cleaning up my mess, me with a bowl of homemade garlic butter in my hand and the temptation to just chuck a baguette into it and call it a night. But no, I will find some restraint. I’ve nestled the oysters into little salt houses on a baking tray and am dolloping a helping of garlic butter into each on. Grill on, I pop them under for a couple of minutes.
‘Smells amazing,’ Zach says appreciatively.
‘Let’s hope they taste as good,’ I reply. Full disclosure, I searched ‘how to eat oysters’ on YouTube earlier so that I could look like I know what I’m doing when it came to the crunch.
Zach’s chatting about his latest project as we sit down at the dining table. ‘I’m only in the early stages but it’s kind of inspired by you,’ he says, looking at me nervously.
‘Is it?’
‘I’ve been pushing my own boundaries a bit. My latest work definitely makes use of a wider colour palette.’
I feel honoured. ‘I’d love to see it,’ I say.
‘You would?’
‘Yes!I know I was super critical of your work in the early days but I was just being a brash buffoon. Just because I don’t necessarily understand something doesn’t mean I should rule it out, right?’ Zach raises his eyebrows as we both realise that sentence has relevance on a much wider scale. ‘Anyway, I loved the painting you did for me. Besides, you’ve been so involved with my job and so enthusiastic about the project with Nat that now I just feel kind of rude for not showing enough interest in your artwork. Forgive me?’
Zach sits back in his chair, flashing those delicious green eyes at me.
‘Seriously, there’s nothing to forgive. I’d love to show you the new stuff but I’ll need a bit more time before I’m happy with it.’
‘I’ll attempt to be patient, them,’ I grin, placing the oysters in the middle of our table. YouTube taught me to take a sip first, chew then swallow, which is not at all like I’d thought, but I am so ready for the aphrodisiac!
Hmm. I’m not sure. It’s kind of like chewing garlicky slime. Still, Zach looks genuinely impressed so I’m happy. Plus my go-to pasta dish takes minutes to make so I know the main course will be a winner. I literally bake a camembert and then chuck the molten cheese into some linguine. Not the healthiest, I’ll admit, but still pretty tasty if I do say so myself.
After the oysters I serve up steaming bowls of pasta and top up Zach’s glass. He’s smouldering at me from across the table and I take a moment to marvel at how every element of tonight seems to be combining into a melting pot of romance. An empty house. A sexy AF dinner date. Oysters to start. Champagne. Lacy bra. I think I might be the unexpected queen of romance? Me! A commitment-phobe.
