‘She is. You talk of your parents not really engaging in your love for animation and films. My mum camped with me outside Leicester Square once for a movie premiere. She used to help me sew costumes.’
‘You’re a cosplayer?’
‘I was. Back in my teens. I had a whole Japanese manga thing down.’ We won’t mention why my mum had red knee-high boots in her wardrobe, but I made sure they were disinfected before I put them on.
‘I think I’d have liked to have seen that,’ he says.
Really? Oh. Blimey. Was that a bit of flirty move?
He leans over to reach for a pork rind just as I do and our hands touch. Damn. Did you feel that too? I felt that everywhere.
Say something. Talk about the menu.
‘Tacos. I like tacos. Would you like to share my tacos?’
What exactly are the words that are coming out of my mouth right now?
I show him my phone so he can see the app and what tacos I am actually talking about. They look like decent tacos, well-filled.
‘I would,’ he says, looking me straight in the eye.
I laugh, knocking my head back. Is this some strange sexual innuendo? Does he actually want a corn tortilla with fish, lime and sweetcorn salsa? I’ll share.
‘Then I will order tacos. As long as I can have a bite of your…’
‘Burrito?’
I bite my lip. Everything is innuendo now, even Mexican food.
‘What are your thoughts on pulled pork?’ I ask.
He bites his lip. ‘I like my pork pulled.’
Yep, this never happens with the Deliveroo man.
I look down at my phone, pressing random buttons and possibly ordering one of everything and three black bean enchiladas. You know that feeling when someone is looking at you but you’re doing everything you can not to look back because if you look into their eyes then some strange lustful alchemy will take over your soul and you’ll never be able to think straight ever again? Yeah, I look at him. Don’t smile like that. Shit.
I did order three black bean enchiladas and I know because I have them in a doggy bag ready to take back to the office as we leave the restaurant. Michelle will be happy.
The flirting didn’t stop. One moment he was asking if I could get my mouth around his burrito (I couldn’t, it was quite large), which would send us into fits of giggles, and the next, the chat would effortlessly flow into anime, street food preferences (I love a dumpling), and everything from London to career choices. In all that time, did I tell him who I was and what I do? Of course not. Why burst this bubble? I liked being in this bubble with him, escaping from the circus that is my life. Was it selfish? Yes. Was it wrong? Also, yes. But the longer the date went on, the more I couldn’t extricate myself from the lie. I reasoned with myself that this was like some sort of extended role play. Without the costumes, of course.
‘So, how are we ranking this place on Yelp?’ Cameron asks, as he buttons up his duffel coat and pulls his beanie over his head.
‘The orange juice tasted suspiciously like Fanta. Flaccid tacos, embarrassingly large burritos.’
He chuckles, his breath fogging the air. ‘Dildo-sized burritos.’
I also smirk, knowing that I’ve seen bigger… much bigger. ‘Solid three stars, though, for the free guac.’
‘And the pork rinds, which made a lady more excited than I’ve possibly ever seen.’
‘They are premium snack foods.’
‘That they are.’
We walk along the pavement by the village green, not really knowing where this walk is taking us. It feels nice to be in his company, warmed by the beer in my system and a plate full of churros and chocolate dip.
‘So, thank you for lunch. You really didn’t need to do that,’ I tell him.
