I nod and smile. “Yes, I think that’s a nice way of putting it.”
“And so he arrives in…when is it?”
“Roughly four weeks.”
“It’s so romantic,” Joan says with a sigh.
“Oh, I’m not sure about that,” I reply. “Nothing’s happened. It’s just…nice.”
“It’s how it should be,” Joan says, resting her arms on the fence. “It’s how all romances start: with something nice, something easy that brings two people together.”
This embarrasses me and I shuffle in my boots. “Oh well, we’ll see.”
I’m reluctant to make anything of her comment. I’ve lost track of the number of men who started as friends and ended up being deleted from my social-media contacts. I don’t want that with Davey. Our friendship—our connection—is, I know, quite strange in terms of how it’s happened, but it’s lovely. And something that starts so well like thiscan’tend up with us blocking each other on chat platforms.
“OK.” I bring this talk to a close. “The gym beckons. Got to work off those Hobnobs.”
“See you next weekend?” Joan asks.
“If you’re here, and not having an adult sleepover at Geoff’s, then sure.” I wave and head toward my back door. “I really like him, by the way.”
“Davey?” she questions.
I give her a look. “Geoff,” I clarify.
“So do I.”
—
The gym is packed. They’ve run a special offer in the local paper and it really grates when they do this, because it’s always packed out for at least a fortnight afterward, before people lose motivation and let their fresh memberships languish. I queue politely at a distance for the cross-trainer and select my playlist. I might as well start listening to it and, just as I’m putting my headphones in, George strides across the floor with a wave.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he starts and every female turns to look at him, hoping beyond hope that he’s addressing them.
“I’ve got my holiday form approved,” I say and he gives the widest grin.
“Fantastic,” George whoops, picking me up and spinning me around. He is so acutely at ease with himself that he doesn’t care people are watching. “Thailand is on! Let’s meet in the café downstairs and look at flight times after we’ve finished up here. Actually”—he glances at his watch—“want a free training session? I’ve got time to kill.”
“Oooh, yes, please,” I enthuse. I’ve never had a proper personal-training session before. That time on the power-plates doesn’t count. And half an hour later I know why. It is brutal. George is a taskmaster, throwing phrases at me like, “Come on, Hannah, you’re capable of so much more than this.”
“I no longer find you attractive,” I tell him as we sit in the café. I can feel the burn in my thighs. I buy our coffees—it’s the very least I could do, for the torture he just inflicted without chargingme.
He looks at me with those blue eyes. “You find me attractive?”
Oh no, what have I done? “A bit. Not today, though. Now I actively dislike you,” I joke.
“You find me attractive,” he says knowingly. “I find you attractive as well,” he says, as if it’s a huge secret, which I suppose it is.
“Well, stop,” I say. “I’m not booking a holiday with you if you think there’s nookie on the cards.”
“Nookie?” he laughs. “Who even says that anymore?”
It’s a word I’ve picked up from Joan, and I tell him all about her. “Although she’s progressed to calling it ‘adult sleepovers’ now.”
“She sounds fun. I’d like to meet her. And I promise in Thailand I will not try to initiate an adult sleepover. This is strictly friendship.”
“Good man,” I say, pulling out my phone. George is not fussy about where we go. He’s just excited to be going. We decide to make it an easy ten days and go for a two-part stay in Bangkok andPhuket. Neither of us fancies backpacking, and we simply want a bit of culture and then to finish it off with some kind of cheesy, all-inclusive beach break. We find a boutique hotel in Bangkok and a four-star all-inclusive place in Phuket that looks fantastic.
“Great fitness program,” George says and I resist saying, “Great bars.”
