‘Oh. Right. Anywhere nice?’ I ask, feeling sad that the handsome man is going away.
‘Home,’ he replies. ‘My bed is calling. I’ve done my bit here – they won’t miss me.’
I try to find some words – any words to keep him there just a few moments longer – but in my somewhat inebriated state, all I manage is, ‘That’s a shame.’
He pulls on his jacket and shakes Kerry’s hand. ‘Pleasure to meet you.’ With those final words he turns around and starts to talk to Adrian. I stare across at Kerry, and she gives me a ‘What the fuck is that all about?!’ look.
‘Did that just happen?’ I ask, bewildered. ‘He totally blanked me.’
‘Um, he’s staring right at you now, Cat.’
I swing around and, sure enough, he’s facing me, hands in pockets. Smiling.
‘You coming?’
‘What?’
‘You heard.’
I laugh. But he’s still standing there. Waiting.
‘You’re not serious?’
‘Oh, I am. Come with me. Bring those shoes.’
I shake my head. ‘You’re crazy. That’s not going to happen. I don’t even know you! I’m not going anywhere with you.’
My head knows this is the correct course of action, but still my vagina is practically dragging him out the door, shouting, ‘I’LL DRIVE.’
‘What do you think, Kerry?’ Dylan loudly continues. By now a few people are starting to stare.
Kerry glances at me. ‘Well, Dylan, I think that you should take good care of my lovely friend tonight, or me and everyone else in this room will hunt you down and chop your cock off.’
‘Sounds fair.’ He laughs.
Kerry puts on my green jacket and knocks back her wine. Then she leans over and whispers, ‘If you don’t see him naked, I’ll never forgive you.’
I hold on to her sleeve. ‘But I have a date tomorrow! I can’t do this!’
‘Of course you can! You have a DATE, not a boyfriend. You can go back to your rules and be on your best behaviour tomorrow. Now go and have some bloody fun for once.’
I’m speechless as she marches away, leaving me to decide on my own. Dylan is still smiling. God, he’s handsome. I stand up and clear my throat.
‘I hope you have decent coffee.’
As we walk towards the lobby, I’m pretty sure I can hear applause coming from the bar.
We don’t speak on the taxi ride to Dylan’s house. ‘Pompeii’ by Bastille is playing on the radio and I sing the lyrics in my head to drown out the sound of my nervous heart beating in my chest. This is surreal. This is happening! In the not-so-distant future I will be naked and he will be naked and –
‘£9.80, mate.’
We’re here. Cathedral Road. A quick glance out of the window while Dylan is paying reveals a row of tenement flats in a street dotted with expensive cars, and a brightly lit Italian restaurant called Gustoso. I open the door and step out before I lose my nerve completely. Oh shit, this is happening.
Dylan follows me out of the taxi and we pause on the pavement outside his flat. He’s looking at me but I’m not ready to meet his gaze. ‘Shall we?’ he says, motioning towards his front door. I smile and nod.
The hallway is nothing special. Clean but basic. Stone walls, a couple of bikes outside flat 0/1 and a tiny dehydrated plant outside 0/2, which reminds me I need to water my spider plant. We climb the stairs to the first floor, Dylan’s perfect arse leading the way before stopping outside 1/1. I’m already trying to imagine what his home is like inside. I bet it’s a gadget-filled bachelor pad bedecked with randomly placed Ganesha statues and tapestry hangings to show he’s well-travelled both physically and spiritually. Actually, I bet it’s nothing but a massive shag pad, scattered with cushions stuffed with his previous conquests’ used knickers.
He reaches into his pocket for his keys and I take a deep breath. He turns and grins. He knows I’ve been checking him out. ‘Coffee, wasn’t it?’
