Love & London by Ellie White
CHAPTER SEVEN
Laura: Let us know when you're home safe. Enjoy your date!
Helen: And tell us all about it!
Maggie: There's not much to tell. He's half an hour late. I'm leaving in 5 when I've finished my wine. Are you at the pub?
"This dating thing is turning out to be one big failure after another. Last week, I end up in handcuffs - Not the kinky kind, the police kind - because they thought I was involved in my Tinder date's drug cartel or whatever. This week, my date stands me up," I say to the waitress as I pay for my wine. "Oh god-," I say, suddenly distracted by what I see - or rather, who.
"Is that your date?" she asks, staring at Jake as he makes his way to my table.
"No, he's my business partner and my best friend. We're close enough for this to be really embarrassing for me."
He smiles at the waitress as she leaves my table with a reassuring pat on my shoulder.
Christ. Kill me, now.
"Jake! What are you doing here?" I ask, trying not to think about how gorgeous he looks in the dim candlelight of the restaurant.
After our day at Borough Market last Saturday, we spent the rest of the night in his flat. We had far too much to drink and I fell asleep on his couch. When I woke up in his bed the next morning, I feared the worst, worried that I had done something I couldn't take back. Turns out we had both passed out on the sofa and, when he woke up a few hours later, he carried me to his bed and he took himself back to the sofa like a gentleman.
Earlier in the week (as promised), Laura had set me up with the guy that goes into her bakery. This time, I took no chances and told Jake right away. Instead of reacting the way he did last time, he was okay about it all. That being said, he didn't seem too interested in knowing more than the date and venue so we didn’t talk about it all week.
"I'm meeting my team for our belated Christmas night out at Junkyard Golf and this is the only Friday that everyone could get together. It's just down the road and I saw you through the window. Thought I'd say hi and check how your date is going, see if I needed to intimidate anyone."
Right, he did tell me about that. I should have known he’d walk right past here before I chose the window seat. Now would be an appropriate time for the ground to open and swallow me up.
"You haven't checked the group chat then?" I say as I finish my glass of wine and stand to put my coat on.
"No, what's up?" he says, getting his phone out to catch up on the messages he's missed. "Oh," he adds as he reads.
"I don't want to keep you. I'm just going to go home and wallow in my own self-pity," I say with an exasperated sigh. “Might swing by The George to see the others.”
"Come with me! Brian had childcare issues and had to cancel but we already booked his spot and it's paid for."
"I shouldn't. I don't want to intrude."
"You can't waste a gorgeous dress like that by going home at 8 o’clock. Please?" he asks nicely as he wraps my scarf around me, carefully un-tucking my hair from the back. "I'm not going to take ‘no’ for an answer so you can spare us the argument and just come with me?"
I beam up at him. "I have been wanting to go there for ages."
"Besides that, I need you to keep me on the straight and narrow. In the office, my team are professional, hardworking individuals. After a couple of drinks, they're like wild animals and you know how easily lead I am.”
He offers me his arm the way he always does and we step into the frosty winter air which sparks an involuntary shudder up my spine.
"Are you cold?" he asks as I pull my coat tighter around my body.
"Yeah, but I'll warm up when we start walking."
He takes off his thick, wool scarf and wraps it around my shoulders.
"Aren't you cold now?"
"I've just spent half an hour on a hot, sweaty tube. I need to cool down," he says, smiling as he links my arm back through his.
It's amazing how comfortable this has become, Jake and I walking closely together with either my arm linking his or his arm around my shoulder.
"Are you sure your team won't mind me tagging along?" I ask nervously. "Should you not call someone and double check?"
"Of course not. Anyway, you know most of them now that they've moved up with us," he says in an attempt to reassure me.
It's only a short walk from the restaurant to Junkyard Golf and, as we turn off the main road onto a pedestrian street, the bar is hard to miss. Neon flashing lights and the thumping base of the music coming from the small, windowed entryway announce its location.
Since we're last to arrive, almost everyone is already waiting inside.
"You're late," a girl I don't recognise says with a smile.
"I had to pick up a straggler," Jake answers, patting my arm as I smile at the girl.
"Hi, I'm Claire," the girl says, holding out her hand with a welcoming smile.
"Maggie."
"I know who you are and it's lovely to finally meet you. I've heard so many wonderful things," she says, winking at Jake who just rolls his eyes at her.
"Claire is currently on maternity leave. She comes back next month - Thank God. She's the best Copy Writer we have and we miss her dearly."
"Everyone else is inside, come on," she says, leading the way through the doors to the most brilliantly chaotic place I've ever set foot in.
It's like I'm walking into the Tardis. The small entryway leads way to a much bigger bar area surrounded by chain link fence, exposed brickwork and much more neon. Even the golf balls are fluorescent. A dozen familiar faces greet us with enthusiasm. I make my way around the group and, by the time I'm finished saying hello to everyone, Claire is back from the bar with two huge cocktails decorated with party rings and popping candy.
"There are 7 cocktails and 2 alcoholic slushes on the menu. I say we try them all. This one is called ‘Hotline Ting’," she says grinning at me as I eagerly take the pink and purple drink from her. "I don't get out often so I’m making the most of a child-free night," she explains as she takes a large mouthful of the colourful liquid.
"Cheers to that," I say as we clink glasses.
"So, how long have you and Jake been together?"
"Oh, we're not…"
"Sorry, I just assumed... You looked so comfortable with each other, that's all. Pretend I didn't say anything," she says, waving her hand in dismissal.
"We've just known each other a really long time," I answer with a smile.
"I always thought he had a thing for you. He would make the most ridiculous excuses to see you in person even though an email would suffice. Maybe he just wanted to skive," she shrugs, echoing what Jude had said when I met him in the office.
Before I can react, Jake comes and tells us it's time to start so we drop our coats off at the cloak room and make our way to our course. We're split into 4 teams and I'm relieved when Jake tells me I'm paired with him, Claire and Jude. We head towards the course called 'Gary' which is themed around a car scrapyard. Obstacles include: a huge tyre, a grown-up sized slide and a bunch of written-off cars. The amount of detail put into this place is incredible; you can see why it gets amazing reviews.
"Don't worry, I'll go easy on you," Jake says with a wink.
"You don't remember last time we played crazy golf, do you?"
"Oh, man. I forgot all about that. I haven't thought about that day in a long time. For a bloke that was perfect at everything, Philip was so shit when it came to crazy golf," he says, laughing fondly at the memory.
"Yeah, that's why we got banned from that place in Kingston," I say, laughing as I think back to the time he went to putt the ball just inches from the hole but, instead, hit it so hard it smashed the windmill two holes over. We were asked to never return after that day which was, coincidentally, the last time I played. "They never replaced that windmill blade, you know? I noticed when I drove passed it at New Year’s."
"No way! I remember that you won that game. I should probably be worried."
"Don't worry, I'll go easy on you," I say, echoing his earlier statement.
"I suppose you do owe me a thrashing since I hustled you at pool."
I huff at him and pretend to be annoyed but I can't keep it up for more than a few seconds before I burst out laughing. "I should have worn a more revealing dress,” I say, looking down at my suitably-covered cleavage.
“You’ll have to remember next time.”
Claire decides to go first and Jude, second. Apparently, they are just as competitive as we are so they are too busy trash talking one another to hear our exchange.
"You and James went off to uni the next day,” I say after a few moments of silence.
"I remember." He doesn't have to tell me what he's thinking because I know it’s the same as me: It's the last time we hung out as a group. I remember the day vividly. I thought about it a lot when they were gone. Did we do something to make him retreat? Was it something I said? Or Philip or Laura? Or was I wrong in thinking we were friends in the first place? I never did get the answers to those questions but I tell myself that it doesn't matter. Look at us now! We're closer than ever before but, deep down, I know those questions still plague me.
***
I can't believe I forgot how much fun Crazy Golf is. Maybe it's the added alcohol, the fabulous company and the cool atmosphere but I've had such a wonderful night. Claire and I made it to 5 cocktails before she drunkenly declared she'd had enough which I was glad about because I don't know how I'd cope with another hangover.
Tomorrow evening, Laura and I are taking the mums to dinner before we go to the theatre to see Mamma Mia. We even invited Jake’s mum. How will I explain to Margaret that it's her son's fault I'm hungover without anyone jumping to conclusions? They already think we're hiding some sort of sordid affair from them.
Of course, even after fourteen years, I am still the reigning champion of crazy golf which pleases me, no end. Jake was a gracious loser despite his threats to bring me back once he's had enough practice to beat me. Our competitive streaks really shone as the night went on, both of us trying our absolute best to win. Claire and Jude gave up halfway around the course and decided to reverse the rules, battling it out between the two of them over who could get the highest number of points.
"Tell me again why you and Jake aren't together," Claire had said to me halfway through the game as I stood back, admiring Jake as he putts.
"I think you need your eyes testing," I say with a laugh. "There is nothing going on between us, just friendly competition."
"Okay, you can keep telling me that but I know sexual tension when I see it. Babe, you're flirting with him just as hard as he is with you."
Her words echo in my mind for the rest of the evening. I admit, we flirt a lot more than we used too but that's just the kind of friendship we have. It doesn’t mean anything, just like it didn't mean anything when he turned up at the restaurant and insisted that I join him tonight. He was just being friendly.
"I don't think I've seen you smile so much as you have tonight," Jake says, playfully nudging me as we walk to the tube station. Clearly, he didn't learn from last time he playfully nudged me. He knows I have terrible balance and, of course, I go spinning out again. This time, he pulls me by my waist to catch me and I fall into him, landing flush against his chest. Thankfully, he remains unmoved and I manage to find my balance but I don't release the hold I have on his shoulders. The sudden contact of his strong hold on my waist and the feel of his solid muscle beneath my hands has taken my breath away and has my pulse racing.
"You should try to be more careful," he says, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. I, on the other hand, have no words. Yes, he's dazzled me many times before with his good looks and kind personality but this is much more than being dazzled.
There is an invisible force pulling us together, closing the distance between us as we stand in the empty street.
He keeps his arms tightly around me, holding me close to him as his beautiful, blue eyes bore into mine. All signs of joking and banter have disappeared, replaced by something I can’t quite put my finger on. My heart is pounding so fast that I can hear it in my ears and the butterflies that have taken up residence in my stomach are going nuts. His face is mere inches from mine and I know that, if I just stood on my tiptoes, I could easily kiss him.
I want to kiss him.
The realisation hits me hard. What am I doing?! Obviously, I don't want to kiss him. It's Jake. My friend, Jake. My business partner, Jake.
So why can't I look away?
Because it's Jake and I don't want to.
"Well…" I say as he leans his face towards mine, his full lips parted slightly. The small movement is enough for me to come to my senses and move back slightly so I can try to regain some composure. "Thanks for catching me, even though you pushed me but whatever." I aim for joking but struggle to make my voice sound anything other than desperately turned on.
"I'll have to remember your distinct lack of balancing skills next time," he says, straightening up and clearing his throat.
We continue our walk to the tube in silence. It's not an awkward silence, it's comfortable. This time, we don't link arms. Instead, he has his hands stuffed in his pockets as though he's willing them to stay there. The entire time we're walking side by side, I'm thinking about that almost kiss and the fact I definitely wanted him to kiss me. I can’t make sense of it all. Maybe it's Claire? She got in my head with everything she said. Maybe it was the alcohol making me see things that aren't there?
I risk a look at Jake. He doesn't see me glance at him but, as I do, my heart suddenly races again and I feel nervous. It’s as though, all this time, these feelings have been there but, now, they're in the forefront of my mind and are begging to be addressed.
***
"Do you want to talk about what happened earlier? With your date, I mean," he asks, breaking our silence when we reach the door to my flat.
Do I want to talk about my date standing me up?
No.
Do I want to talk about our almost kiss?
Again, no.
Do I want him to try and kiss me again?
Yes, very much so, but, at the same time, no.
I don't want to leave with a huge question mark hanging over us but I don’t know what to say.
“I opened a bottle of wine earlier. I only had one glass. You can come in and help me finish it, if you want?"
Yeah, I know how it sounds.
"Lead the way." He follows me into the building and up the first flight of stairs to my little flat.
I pour the wine from the open bottle in the fridge and hand him his glass.
He was lying in my bed the other morning and I didn't feel nervous at all but, standing here, in my kitchen, my heart might explode with anticipation. Clearly, my body doesn’t get the hint that Jake and I are just friends and is reacting to him in ways it really shouldn’t.
“I bought you something," he says as he opens his backpack, pulling something soft out and handing it to me.
I open the T-shirt and let out a laugh when I see what it is. It's a T-shirt from Junkyard Golf that reads 'Do you even golf, bro?'.
"I love it! Thank you," I say, standing on my tip toes to hug him, wrapping my arms around his neck.
"I got one too so we can match. Mine says 'Gals that golf'. I thought you'd get a kick out of it." I laugh again as he holds it up to show me.
"I'll be right back; I'm going to put mine on. Put yours on, too," I say, skipping to my bedroom.
I quickly comb through my wavy hair with my fingers and spray a little deodorant when I change out of my date night dress.
I try to get my head around what happened earlier but I can't seem to shake this feeling of confusion. I’m sure Jake was about to kiss me. Wasn't he? Why did I move away when he leaned in? Do I want him to try again? I'm not sure I should answer myself honestly.
I pull myself together and join him again on the couch in my new T-shirt, black leggings and bright pink slipper socks. He's put his new T-shirt on, too, and my heart swells. He reaches his arm out and pulls me into his side, passing me my drink.
"We need a selfie in our t-shirts. Jude will go nuts over it for his Insta campaign." He pulls out his phone and takes the photo. “Beautiful," he says as he shows me the photo.
It's a simple photo, the two of us in our matching t-shirts and smiling straight at the camera. He swipes along to show me another which looks as though I thought he was done taking photos because I'm no longer looking at the camera. Instead, I'm looking right up at Jake with the biggest grin on my face.
Jude pitched us his idea for our social media earlier in the week and it was a great pitch. We got him on the job right away and already we've got over 20,000 followers. Some of the posts are about us and what we do day-to-day, some are general titbits about the company. Earlier today, Jude said he was going to post some of us playing golf so he could try and create a more relatable vibe to the profile. He ended up getting a free round of drinks from the bar because he told them he would tag them in the photos as free publicity.
We sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes while he sends the photo to Jude before he speaks again.
"I don't want you to think I'm creepy or anything but I did take some photos of you tonight. I think you should see them." I narrow my eyes in suspicion as he pulls more photos up to show me. "Maggs, you look so happy here. You've had the most amazingly goofy grin all night and it made me happy to see it again. I know you're still working out the kind of person you want to be but you just need to look here to see that you're the same hilarious sixteen-year-old I knew and loved."
He swipes through the photos of me lining up my shot, celebrating when I got a hole in one on an impossible course and dancing with Claire and Jude to the 90's rave tunes that blasted through the neon-soaked room.
"I felt it too," I say honestly. "Every day, I feel more and more alive. Like I'm coming back to life, almost. Maybe that's a morbid way of looking at it but, tonight, I felt free from everything and it felt great. I want to be like that more often; it felt really good."
I swipe through the rest of his photos: Selfies of the four of us, selfies of just the two us, photos of Claire and Jude messing with the props and photos of Jake and I just having a wonderful time together.
"For what it's worth, Maggs, that bloke missed out tonight but his loss was my gain." His comment takes me off guard. "I mean it, you look incredible and you're funny and everyone loved having you there tonight. I loved having you there tonight," he says as I lean in to rest my head against his chest. His hand starts drawing shapes on my arm.
"Maybe I should just give up dating. I'm obviously not good at it"
"You've got so much love to give. You just need to find the right man to go on a date with."
Like Jake Mills maybe?
I give my head a metaphorical shake.
Whatever happened earlier was just an anomaly. Jake doesn't kiss anyone who he can't ditch the next day and he can't ditch me when we work in the same office.
But he did buy us matching t-shirts.
My ringing phone breaks our silence.
"Hey, it's Sam," says the voice as I answer. I'm thankful for the distraction. "I'm so sorry I stood you up tonight."
"Okay...?" I say, unsure of why he is calling me at this time of night after missing our date. Is this a booty call?
“It was shitty and I’m really sorry but I have a really good excuse, if you'll hear me out?"
"Go ahead," I say in my most non-committal tone, as if I'm only humouring him.
"I play football on a Friday afternoon; I had a bad tackle and I broke my collarbone. I've only just got home from A&E.” That quickly snaps me out of my mood.
"Oh, my god. Are you okay?" That is one hell of a painful excuse.
"Yeah, there's nothing you can do for a broken collarbone except stick it in a sling and take some painkillers. Except... Maybe beg for a second chance with a beautiful woman? What do you say?"
Jake raises his eyebrows at me quizzically.
"Since you've made such a solid case, how does Monday night sound?" I say to Sam.
"Thank God, I thought I'd blown it," he says with a relieved laugh. "Monday is perfect. I'll pick you up at 7? Text me your address.”
We say our goodbyes, I wish Sam happy healing and we hang up.
"That was Sam, my date that stood me up. He's been in the hospital. He broke his collarbone this afternoon."
"Right, he couldn't text you and tell you this earlier instead of leaving you alone at that restaurant?"
"I'm sure that, after breaking his collarbone, he had other things on his mind."
"Okay," Jake says as he puts his drink down on the coffee table. "I should be getting home, it's late."
"What's the problem? It's a valid excuse." I can feel it happening again. We're about to argue and I can't stop it.
"I'm just saying, he could have texted you instead of ditching you like that. It's a bit of a dick move. You're worth more than that."
"Well, it's not your decision whether or not I give him a second chance, it's mine."
"No, you're right," he says as he pulls his coat on.
"Why are you leaving? Don't leave."
"It's late and it's been a long day so I'm just going to go home." He kisses me on the cheek for the first time and his soft lips gently brush my skin. I want to lean into him, to feel him. I want him to give me more than just a peck on the cheek. I want him to give me a reason not to go on that date. "Have a good time at the theatre tomorrow."
"If you have something to say to me, just say it," I say, barely above a whisper.
"It's not the right time, Maggs. The moment has gone. I'm sorry."
The happy mood I felt a little over five minutes ago dissolves as he closes the door behind him.
It's probably for the best that we didn't continue the conversation. One of us would have yelled (more than likely, me) and we would both feel terrible in the morning. What would the alternative be? We kiss and live happily ever after? No way, it doesn't work like that.
I should be relieved that he left before I could ruin everything but I'm not. Instead, I'm barely holding back tears as I take our glasses to the kitchen and pour the wine down the sink.
Something catches my eye, sticking out of my bag as I walk towards my bedroom. It's the strip of photos we got from the photo booth in the bar. My heart aches when I think about the fun we had together tonight, how much we'd laughed at the different filters in the booth and pulled funny faces at the camera. I think about how I ruined it all by answering that call.
I take the thin strip to my bedroom and wedge it into the mirror frame on my dressing table. Then, I crawl into bed, alone, sad and wearing my new t-shirt.
What a terrible end to a wonderful evening.