So am I.
Is he though?
‘Boo.’ I jump in fright then laugh to see Nick behind me. I put a hand to my chest to calm myself. He takes my hand tenderly and steps back, looking me up and down. ‘Gorgeous,’ he says, a hand reaching for my face, and he pulls me in for a kiss under the streetlights. His cheek is soft against mine, I feel the warmth of his breath and the gentle touch of his lips. I relax immediately as he puts an arm around me, both at the contact and knowing I read the dress code right. We part and I check him out, realising he’s in a tux with a black tie, his haircut is fresh and he has one hand in his pocket, posing as if he’s on the red carpet. It’s very swish and debonair. I’m suitably impressed.
‘I hope you’ve not hired this out on my account,’ I say. I really hope he hasn’t because all we’ve done so far is indulge in a few dates that have led to some pretty energetic sex. We’ve traded a few cheeky texts, but whatever this may be is still in its infancy, baby steps before we decide if it’s a good idea.
‘God, no,’ he says, as we walk through the gates and proceed up the path to the stone stairs at the front. He puts an arm around me to shield me from the cold. ‘There’s an event I had to attend here, and I had a plus one. I thought it might be nice.’
‘A wedding?’ I say, worried that I haven’t brought a gift.
‘No, just a small work drinks thing. Is that OK?’
I smile. I think so. It feels big for a date but I guess I’m also flattered that he thought me a suitable partner to introduce to his colleagues. We walk through the doors where others are queueing to go in, the ladies in a selection of cocktail dresses and what I hope aren’t real fur coats. He puts his hand into mineand squeezes it tightly. It’s a reassuring feeling and I squeeze back. However, when the crowd clears and we walk through reception, I stand there for a moment to take it all in. Holy balls. This is not a work drinks thing. I had that with Helen and Olga back in the first week of December. We went to a bar that had tapas and wore novelty earrings, and Helen wowed us all with her conversational Spanish that she’s been learning on Duolingo. This is an event. In the main hall of the museum as you walk in, a blue whale skeleton sits there regally, and all around the room are tables festooned with candles in jars. Lights and verdant greenery hang from the large stone archways that frame the galleries. A large tree at least twenty feet high sits near the back stairs, glowing with warm light and velveteen decorations. Amongst the well-dressed are waiters in bow ties and gold antlers carrying silver trays of champagne and assorted hors d’oeuvres, while a swing band plays a selection of classic Christmas songs on a stage to the side. I laugh under my breath as I stare at it all, wide-eyed.
‘Your coat, madam,’ a waiter says, handing me a small cloakroom ticket.
‘Yes. That is my coat and… thank you,’ I say as he takes it away. It’s an H&M overcoat, my name is written on one of the tags as I’m a touch possessive like that about my coats but no one needs to know that. I let out a breath, very glad I didn’t go for the black trousers and fancy-top option tonight.
‘You OK?’ Nick asks, looking over at me.
‘A small work drinks thing…’ I say, repeating his words and raising an eyebrow.
He smirks. ‘Are you impressed?’
‘I will be if they have those little Yorkshire puddings with the beef.’
I walk past an ice sculpture of Santa. I think that may be a vodka luge. This is not how I usually do this place. I usuallycome here for an afternoon and learn random facts about fossils, catching the light through the large circular stained-glass window that now sits dark and lifeless above us. I’d be sitting on the stone steps and people-watching with a café flapjack.
‘You got fancy in your old age,’ I say to Nick as he walks alongside me. He smiles broadly, effortlessly stopping a waiter and taking two glasses of champagne, handing me one. I will take it this isn’t a seven-pound bottle of Prosecco from Aldi. I take a prolonged sip. Of course it isn’t.
‘That went down well,’ I say, a little too loudly.
He smirks. That is our conversational currency at the moment, these small moments of banter that hark back to that moment when we first met. I shake my head at him, my eyes continuously drawn to this boy I used to date, who’s blossomed into quite the man.
‘I guess I thought I could do that later. Bringing it up now seems a little premature,’ he whispers into my ear. His hand goes lower down my back, resting above the curve of my hips. ‘We could find a little dark corner.’
I now regret wearing the jumpsuit. ‘Somewhere near some old bones.’
He laughs loudly and I’ll admit that even though I don’t think it was even in the vicinity of my best jokes, it’s a kick to amuse him. ‘Is that what we’re calling me now?’
‘An old bone? Well, if the shoe fits.’ He slaps me playfully on the backside and I jump, sticking my tongue out at him. ‘I will hold you to that, Saint Nick.’
‘Oh, there will be nothing saintly about it.’
He stands dangerously close to me, his arm wrapped around me, and I look at his face – so familiar and so strange at the same time.Who are you?There is a deep attraction there. I think it was always there when we were younger, but he seems different to the person he was eight years ago. Back then he was young, alittle selfish. I survived our break-up because that’s what young hearts do, but have things changed enough for us to give this another go? Does this also feel right because it feels a little wrong?
‘Colesy! How goes it?’ a man suddenly says, approaching us. Nick lets go of me, takes the man’s hand and shakes it vigorously. ‘Tough day on the markets, do you know how the FTSE panned out?’
I smile, clutching on to my glass to hear the poshness of the accent and because the topic of conversation goes well beyond my sphere of knowledge. The man is similarly in a tuxedo, accompanied by a lady partner with sleek blonde hair and a stunning black backless dress.
‘Mad day but I’m not talking shop now, Phil. It’s time to drink. This is Kay. Kay, this is Phil and his wife, Meribelle.’ I wonder if she’s named after the ski resort or the Nintendo game anime character? I’m going to think neither. I put out my hand and shake theirs to introduce myself.
‘This jumpsuit is gorgeous, is it vintage?’ Meribelle asks. If that’s how we’re describing ASOS then let’s go with it.
I nod. ‘You’re very kind. Your dress is also beautiful.’
‘Oh, this old thing, last season’s Gucci,’ she says. I feel a lump in my throat as she says this because I picked up my clutch on a food shop at Tesco last year. This isn’t my crowd, not one little bit, but I try to keep up appearances. ‘Are you in finance too?’ she asks.
