I feel a tingling sensation as I watch Zach expertly swirl pasta around his fork. His eyes meet mine as he takes his first mouthful.
‘So good,’ he says.
Is it the oysters or is it just Zach? I’m going to have to insist that he gets naked quite soon. For once the plate of food in front of me seems too big. Why did I pile so much pasta on? It’s going to take ages to eat and I’ve a right frisk on.
I take a bite but I’m distracted. My stomach somersaults like it’s taking part in some gymnastics. Bloody hell, one plate of oysters and one hot date and I’ve turned into a complete melt! I swear I can feel butterflies and everything.
Then I hear a growl and slowly but surely, I realise that these are no butterflies. This is the noise of a stomach which no longer wants to be acquaintances with the oysters I’ve just introduced it to.
Rumble.
OH HELL NO.
I race up to the bathroom as fast as my shaking legs can carry me. There, I frantically turn the tap on to disguise the sound of my dinner making an unwelcome reappearance.
I’m face down in the toilet, retching, when I hear a knock at the door and groan.
‘Alice, are you okay?’
‘Um …’
BARF.
‘Can I come in?’
‘No?’
‘It sounds like you could do with some help.’
I cast a hopeless look around the bathroom which does not look good. My clammy forehead is resting on the toilet seat as I reach out my foot and nudge the door open, still cradling the loo. Zach rushes to my side, holding my hair back and telling me it will be all right.
It will not, I think.
My romantic moment has been absolutely blooding ruined!
‘I’m going to fetch you some water,’ Zach says, giving my back one last rub while I feel distinctly sorry for myself. This is not how I’d seen tonight ending.
BLARRRRGGHHHHH.
Oh my god it’s never-ending. I see actual pieces of oyster floating in the toilet bowl and the sight of that makes me retch again. Grim. I hear Zach padding back up the stairs and quickly flush it, trying to retain the last shred of dignity I can.
‘Here,’ he says. He’s put ice in it. I’d thank him for being so sweet if I could find the energy. I take a grateful sip and then lie down on the bathroom floor for a bit, trying to figure out if there’s anything else left to come out. After five or so minutes I realise I’m done. The sweating has stopped and I feel weak but no longer on the verge of chunder.
Zach helps me to stand up. ‘Shall we get you out of those clothes?’ He asks.
‘That’s the sort of thing I was hoping you’d say,’ I joke feebly.
‘There she is,’ he laughs. ‘Still making a joke after you’ve chucked your guts up.’
‘Do you feel okay?’ I check.
‘Absolutely fine,’ he says. ‘I think you must have got a bad oyster. Is it inappropriate to tell you that I like your underwear right now?’
I look down at my lacy bra and pants. There’s a bit of sick on the left bra-strap.Sigh.
‘I tell you what, why don’t you grab a shower while I get you some fresh clothes?’
I nod appreciatively.
