Page 85 of People Skills

‘I don’t eat it, so I wouldn’t know,’ he says.

‘Right. Well, I’ll let you know.’

He nods and looks at his phone. The official sign of a bad date right there.

I tell him I’m going to the bathroom, so I can at least not look rude when I check my phone. God, why didn’t we just meet for a quick drink, why did I agree to a whole meal? In the group chat, Kat has messaged How’s it going??? and Jamila has messaged Try to get a sneaky picture of him and Ask him his star sign so we can do your charts.

I write back I ordered dessert and he didn’t. I feel like that’s probably all I need to say.

I look at myself in the mirror. Should I bother applying my lipstick? I decide I should, and then regret it, because maybe he’ll take this as a sign I think things are going well. But the lighting is low enough he won’t notice.

I hover in the bathroom doorway for a moment, watching him. My tiramisu has arrived at the table—a big, luscious, rich, chocolatey-looking piece of heaven. I see him slide my plate a little towards him, and then I stare in horror as he takes his finger and runs it around the outside of the mascarpone cream. He licks his finger, and then he dips it back into the cream again, licks it again, and then slides my plate back over to my side as if he never touched it.

Wonderful.

25

I AM HOPING Xavier is in bed, asleep, anything but waiting up to see how my date went. The house is quiet when I walk in. A good sign. I shut the front door as quietly as possible, slide my shoes off, and start creeping in my socked feet towards my room.

Xavier’s bedroom door opens immediately.

‘How did the date go?’ he asks, walking out, book in hand. He’s halfway through Emma. We chat about each book as we’re reading it, but we don’t have a formal discussion or anything. I didn’t want him to over-analyse, I just wanted him to read. We disagree on a lot. He really liked Northanger Abbey, he likes books about books, whereas I have always found it a little too disjointed in tone to truly love. He didn’t love Sense and Sensibility as much as I do, which is fine, but he thinks Marianne and Colonel Brandon will be happy at the end, which made me yell, ‘She’ll die of boredom!’ The editor in me has always felt Mansfield Park is too long, but he defends a long novel to the death. We both agree that Pride and Prejudice is perfectly paced and perfectly executed. Emma is my favourite, depending on the day (sometimes it’s Persuasion, which I haven’t read in a long time) and I’ve been preparing to defend my dear Emma Woodhouse in case he finds her annoying.

‘Um. It was good,’ I say now. I cannot handle the humiliation of admitting the truth of my date with Nathan, but I can’t convincingly lie and say it was better than good. Good is a bland enough word to get away with it.

‘Just good?’ he says. He is looking at me as if he knows I’m lying.

This annoys me.

‘Better than good. It was great. It was amazing,’ I say.

‘You’re home pretty early for amazing.’

‘Amazing is about the experience, not the amount of time,’ I say. I want him to think we kissed, at least. That there was a short-lived car make-out session maybe. In reality, we drove home separately, and Nathan had driven off before I was safely in my car in the dark car park.

Xavier considers this. ‘What did you order?’

‘Why?’ I say.

‘Just curious if the food there is good,’ he says.

Oh, please.

‘I had the lamb shank and it was lovely,’ I say. I can’t bring myself to mention the tiramisu. I considered not eating it after I saw Nathan’s finger touch it. Instead, I ate only from the side he didn’t touch and said I was full after a few bites. It was a great tiramisu, one of the best I’ve had but the experience was too tainted to enjoy it.

‘And was he nice to you?’ Xavier asks.

‘He was,’ I say. I’m not sure if this is a lie or not.

‘Was he funny? Interesting? Smart?’

‘All of the above.’

‘Well, good for you.’

‘Good for me.’

‘Good for Nathan.’