‘Oh no, I did. You’ve been kind to me and I wanted to repay that kindness. But even then, it was fun. You’re a very entertaining lunch partner.’
I think he may be referring to the point where I bit into a taco and all the filling fell out and down my front. Michelle will see sour cream stains on this shirt now and think the date evolved into something else.
‘As were you,’ I reply.
We are approaching my car and I can feel this all winding to an end, a goodbye. There’s a woman walking her spaniels nearby, a kid on a mobile scooter, so it feels like this is not the place to kiss him again. We can hug perhaps? Maybe do a proper air kiss. Nothing sad, like shaking hands.
‘Did you drive here?’ I ask him. ‘Can I give you a lift anywhere?’ I say, stopping by my Honda Jazz, keys in hand.
‘No, I took the Tube, but it’s fine.’
How do I stretch this out? There’s a pub there. A cheeky drink? But then I won’t be able to drive at all. I’m strangely sad that this is the end of a perfect ninety minutes.
‘We should bring up the kiss, eh?’ he says, suddenly.
‘If you want to.’
Act cool, Josie. Don’t act like you didn’t go home and touch yourself thinking about that kiss. Please don’t say it was a mistake. Maybe it was a reaction to the evening’s drama and you wanted to wind up your family. Maybe you’re still rebounding and I was there. I cross my fingers in my coat pocket.
‘I’m just carrying a lot of baggage at the moment. With Imogen, I’ve lost a best mate, you’ve seen the drama that comes with my family… There’s other stuff. I am a lot to take on…’
I sense it coming, the let-down, the need to explain.
‘So the timing of all of this, the timing feels wrong. Maybe if we’d met a couple of months down the line—’
I put a hand up to the air. ‘Oh, you know what, don’t explain. Essentially, we don’t really know each other. We met at a party, I ruined your mum’s sixtieth. We’d both had some wine, so we kissed and got carried away. I know I was a bit handsy.’
Stop talking, Josie. Seriously.
His eyes look confused, a little sad.
‘Wait, you think I’m dumping you?’
‘You’re not dumping me?’ Some strange sense of relief makes my heart leap.
‘We’re not really going out, so I believe I can’t even do that much…’
‘But you said the timing…’
‘I said the timing was shit because… I can’t stop thinking about you.’
Oh. I exhale slowly, my eyes wandering around the place like I’m trying to figure it all out.
‘That kiss…’
So much is going through my mind right now. Mostly the fact that I’m holding this giant paper bag of enchiladas, but he feels the same. He’s telling me he feels the same. I need to do something.
‘Get in the car,’ I tell him.
‘But—’
‘Get in the car.’
I go round to my side of the car and open the door, my hand shaking, enchiladas placed on the back seat. I then proceed to do up my seat belt. I start the engine. I’m not sure I completely know what I’m doing, but I indicate as I pull out, even though the road is empty. The problem is I do know what I’m doing because there’s a car park around the corner from here. I head towards it and go to the furthest corner of it, away from other cars. A bland radio DJ fills the silence. I stop the engine.
‘I’m going with this, but now I’m scared you’re here to kill me,’ he jokes.
I try to summon up a laugh, but I don’t say a word. Tell him you like him, Josie. The tension in the car, the breathing, the spark. There is something here in such monumental spades, an air so humid, I can’t catch a breath, but it’s all a bit of a mess. Tell him now. Tell him everything. But I can’t.
