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‘Really?…Actually, no offence, but that’s pretty believable.’
‘He’s the only person I’ve trusted enough to make love with.’
‘Now I’m really curious as to how that even happened.’
‘It was pretty normal really. When he bought his first flat in London, I helped him move his stuff into his new place. There wasn’t much, so when we finished he bought me a thank you dinner before I left. At dinner, the waiter basically bathed us both in red wine, so I went back to his to shower and borrow clothes. While I was showering, he asked if he could join me.’
She covers her eyes. Even I can’t believe she is telling me all of this.
‘That night was lovely. It felt like our own little world. The next morning, I woke up and Jas was gone. It turns out he went to see Mommy and Daddy, had the “moving in” conversation, emptied my wardrobe and brought its contents back to the flat. We’ve been living together since.’
‘You’re craftier than you look, Ariella. I respect that. How did you manage to get him to speak to your dad alone?’
‘I didn’t know he was going to do that. He’d never mentioned moving in before. When he got back with my belongings, he just said it was time that we did the adult thing if we were going to keep doing theadultthing; and that was it.’
By the time she finishes, she looks like she is on the verge of tears, so I lighten the mood.
‘Everything in your life sounds like a bloody romantic comedy. Hugh Grant’s going to turn up next. Wanna know how I lost mine? It’ll cheer you up!’
I tug one of her pigtails playfully again. I need to stop doing that. She nods and a smile starts to break across her face.
‘Mine was in a car at night, parked near a McDonald’s drive-through, because I wanted chicken nuggets. I can still remember how she felt to this day. Clara Durban. Hot, tiny, platinum blond, always wore these barely-there skirts. We did it everywhere, every chance we got. Mostly in her car though, a couple of times at her house. We had some good times, before she had to leave.’
‘Did she move away?’
‘Yeah. Her husband found out, reported her and she was sacked from my school. Jerry was furious. He did wonder how I managed to completely fail my French GCSE, with all the extra French classes I was having. The only words I could remember wereoui,s’il-vous-plait,silence,merci,pantalonandje m’appelle Caleb. Apart from that, nothing.’
Ariella gasps.
‘Thankfully, we only got busted four months after I turned sixteen, or she would’ve been in much more trouble.’
‘Caleb, you know she was a predator and took advantage of you, right?’
‘I loved every minute of it and got a steady stream of chicken nuggets. And she left a lasting impression. I can’t walk past a McDonald’s without thinking about her.’
‘And you clearly still have a thing for beautiful, French, platinum blondes,’ she points out.
‘Oh yeah. I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘She groomed you, Caleb.’ She looks concerned.
‘Definitely, McJudgy. Doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it, though.’ I pull on one of her pigtails again. Bloody hell. ‘So, what do you want now you’re free and single?’
I see that she wants to continue talking about Clara but abandons the idea.
‘I guess I want to have fun. I want to experience things I haven’t before. I want to listen to new music, I want to go to places I haven’t been, I want to go out on dates with strangers, and just try to figure out who I am.’
‘You’ve got your app…’ Watching Ariella navigate Swipey is going to be fun.
‘Ugh, no…’
‘Why not? You may want all those things, but if you’re not willing to give it a go you might as well move back in with Jasper. Sometimes the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.’
‘You’d believe that, Caleb, because your lifestyle choices are…unique. Not everyone’s like you.’
‘Gimme your phone.’ She hands it over without hesitation and I open the app’s messages. ‘Look, no one…okay, apart from this guy – I’ve blocked him – is being unreasonable. Let’s get rid of the “How’s your day?” and “What’s up?” people and get to the guys that actually say something interesting.’ I scroll through, skipping past my own message taking the piss.
‘Wait!’ She stops me. ‘Is that you? Open the message!’
