The Mix-Up by Holly McCulloch

CHAPTER 11

Chris appeared in my dream last night. I can’t remember any details, but he was definitely there.

I hate having my sleep disturbed. I’m not one of those people who can exist on a small amount of sleep.

Reluctantly, I think Sara might have a point.

And so, with the aim of forgetting about Chris and minimizing the impact his re-entry is having on my life and mental health, I’ve agreed to meet up with Noah. They do say the way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Don’t they? I’m not about to go confessing all my biggest insecurities to him, but I already know he can distract me.

However, my plan has slightly backfired in that I inadvertently let him decide what we are doing.

To be fair, I had thought he would read my I’m up for anything message in the way it was meant. It was meant to be cheeky. It was meant to be flirtatious. It wasn’t meant to lead to this.

‘Noah. Where are we going?’ We are currently at Victoria Station, waiting for a train to take us to Haywards Heath. I have no idea what’s at Haywards Heath. I don’t even know where it is, except for south.

‘Haywards Heath. I’ve already told you.’

He is being purposefully obtuse. I might’ve found it annoying, but he’s also wearing the most ridiculous outfit. It looks like all his outdoor clothing came from the eighties. ‘OK, but once we get there, what are we doing?’

He’s weaving his way through the streams of people. We seem to be the only ones going in this direction, but his body is shielding me from the worst of the bumps. ‘You are going to have to wait to find out. But trust me, you’re going to love it.’

Very few people have my trust these days. An ominous feeling is growing in the pit of my stomach. All I know is what shoes to wear. Comfortable ones that I can walk in and don’t mind getting dirty. I wish I had said I was busy, but I could hardly change my mind after I had only just told him I was free all day. I didn’t expect a surprise adventure. I had assumed we would be passing our time a little differently.

‘Just so you know, I hate surprises.’

He guides me towards a coffee shop. ‘Let’s get you some caffeine and some sugar and then you will be as right as rain.’

I let him direct me, but only because coffee would be very welcome.

‘Who likes surprises anyway?’

‘I do,’ Noah answers with zero hesitation.

I look across to the supposedly adult man on my right.

‘You do? Why? How? What kind of surprises?’

‘Any kind of surprise. A surprise birthday. A surprise present. A surprise meal. A surprise holiday. A surprise cactus.’ He keeps walking.

‘Has anybody given you a surprise cactus?’

I can see him thinking. ‘No, but there is always hope.’

‘How can you like surprises?’

He stills for a while, thinking. ‘I guess I quite like the magic of not knowing what’s coming next.’

I can’t stop the ‘ugh’ that escapes.

‘What’s wrong with that?’ He pulls me to a stop. Not aggressively, just as a natural shocked reaction.

‘It’s just …’ His eyes look so innocent. Like nothing bad has ever happened to him. ‘It’s just, I guess, most of the time bad things are coming next.’

He closes his eyes. ‘Nope. Not today.’ He opens them again. ‘Today nothing bad is going to happen. I promise. Good surprises only.’

I briefly consider running away. I don’t like the idea of purposefully walking into something that could cause any discomfort. Enough bad things happen without putting yourself in their path.

I can see the exit out on to the street. The sun is shining, and it looks so inviting. I could easily disappear amongst all the people.

But then Noah gently squeezes my hand. Two quick pulses. It reminds me of a heartbeat.

I sigh. ‘Fine.’ All I can hope is that it ends well and that we find some time to have sex. We reach the coffee shop, and food. It’s my turn to pull him to a stop. ‘Here, let me get this. After all, you bought the tickets to do … whatever it is we’re doing today.’ I motion at the food in front of us. ‘What would you like? You can have anything you like. My treat.’

He looks at me and smiles. ‘Surprise me.’ And then walks out of the shop.

We meet up to board the train. I’ve just spent more money than I normally do on a whole week’s worth of groceries in the hope that something I bought surprises him in a good way.

He looks at the two extra bags that are now hanging off my arms.

‘Did you buy one of everything?’

I nod. ‘Pretty much.’ I look at his own purchases, clutched in his hands. I can’t help but be a bit confused. ‘Did you buy two copies of the same paper?’

‘Guilty as charged. But you see, I thought this way we could discuss whatever we are reading whilst going at our own pace. And we have two chances at the Sudoku.’

He takes the drinks from me so I can get through the barrier more easily.

I have to give him props. That’s actually quite a nice idea. He is smooth.

Once the train has started moving, and food choices have been made – the Reuben sandwich was an outright winner – I turn to him. ‘Now that I can’t escape, can you tell me what we are doing?’

His eyes sparkle. ‘We’re going to walk with alpacas.’

‘This isn’t quite what I was expecting to be doing today.’

We’re walking alongside our alpacas, leading them down a muddy path that they have clearly walked down too many times before and now feel apathetic towards. Our guide said that alpacas were very friendly animals on the whole, and if they ever look like they’re getting aggressive or anxious, all you have to do is sing to them. But in my opinion our alpacas don’t seem friendly, they seem bored. Very bored. All the aggression has been sucked out of them by monotony, except possibly for an alpaca called Penguin, who we were warned against choosing. Apparently she has a tendency to spit. Mika did tell me that Noah would take me on some fun dates, although I might have to broaden my definition of ‘fun’.

Noah is behind me, so I have to turn around to see his guilt-ridden face.

‘I know.’ Continuing our animal theme, he does look a little sheepish. ‘But I’ve had this booked for ages. I just didn’t know who I’d be taking.’

I face forwards once more so he can’t quite hear me. ‘Of course you didn’t.’ The accompanying snort is entirely unintentional.

He walks so loudly that even though I can’t see him, I can hear him gaining on us. Us being me and my alpaca, Hippo.

‘Just as long as I get to choose our next date.’ The words leave my mouth, and I immediately regret them. ‘Date’ makes this sound more serious than it is. Sometimes I wish the English language could be more nuanced than it is. ‘I don’t mean date date, of course.’ I try to continue walking at the same pace, like I’ve said nothing wrong, but I can’t stand the awkward silence. I have to break it. ‘You know what I mean.’ I’m glad I can’t see his face.

‘I know what you mean.’

Phew.

‘So’ – I half turn back towards him so he can hear; he’s gained more ground than I had realized – ‘do you often plan things without knowing who you’ll be doing them with?’

‘Oh all the time. Otherwise I’d never do anything.’

I nod. ‘Well, don’t expect me to organize anything quite so … involved as this.’

There is silence and then: ‘Isn’t it illegal?’ This comes from behind me.

‘Isn’t what illegal?’

‘To be a wedding cake baker, when you’re not – and I mean this in a nice way, of course – a romantic person?’

Does he mean this in a nice way? Because it doesn’t sound like it.

I wish he would let it go, but he hasn’t stopped bringing it up since I scoffed at, and then destroyed, the heart that the barista had put on my morning coffee.

I half turn back towards him. ‘You’re gonna have to let it go.’

‘Huh?’

I shout louder. ‘Let it go!’

Unfortunately at this moment, Hippo, who apparently does have a little bite left in her (or possibly him), does just that. She goes. At quite a pace. And with me just about hanging on. I had been so blasé about our calm walk that I had been twisting the rope around my hands for something to do. The combination of this twist and Hippo’s unexpected speed make it impossible for me to extricate myself.

We pass all the other walkers, who have stopped walking to watch as Hippo and I run by. Never having spent much time with alpacas before, I am unprepared for how much they lollop. I stumble more than once, but luckily narrowly avoid completely falling over.

As we lollop past the guide, she yells something at me. ‘Sing! Sing to her!’

Even as I stumble, I roll my eyes. I knew she was untrustworthy as soon as I saw her pigtails. No woman over the age of twenty-four should wear pigtails, no matter how much you love horses, or horse-adjacent animals.

But I have to try something. We are heading towards water, and I am a very poor swimmer. I don’t think Noah will sleep with me again if he sees my doggy paddle.

So I do. I start to sing.

‘Admit it, that was a great day out.’

We are back at his apartment, sitting on the floor of his living room, picnicking on the leftover food I bought this morning. I still smell vaguely of swamp, despite washing as soon as we got back to Noah’s. Having escaped before using the shower the other day, I was upset to see that he’s the kinda guy who buys that horribly minty body wash. The type that burns the inside of your vagina. God only knows what it does to a penis. I say nothing, and instead hope that it was purchased by mistake. I’m not really in the mood to stay, but his house was much easier to reach from the station and as much as I don’t want to stay, I really didn’t want a forty-minute journey on public transport smelling the way I did. I’m just glad I packed an overnight bag in the hopes of getting lucky.

Unfortunately, so far, it appears my luck has run out. Not that I’ve ever had much anyway.

My singing did little to calm Hippo. Instead it seemed to rally her on, straight into the pond.

‘I can’t believe the only advice our guide gave me was to sing.’ I crunch down on a crisp.

‘You sang?’

I blush. ‘Yes.’

Noah looks at me. ‘Out of interest, what did you sing?’

Like a crappy old jukebox, the only songs that came to mind were those from the noughties. I hold my head up high, I will not be ashamed. ‘I chose Destiny’s Child “Survivor”. It seemed like a very fitting choice for the situation.’ And it was. I didn’t think I was going to die, but at the time I wasn’t exactly sure what the outcome was going to be.

‘Did you reach the weird bit sung by Michelle?’

A laugh escapes. ‘No. I never made it that far.’

‘Well, that’s disappointing. At least you made a cute swamp animal.’ He smiles at me, and I throw a cocktail sausage at him. He catches it without any fuss – ‘Thanks, just what I wanted’ – and pops it into his mouth.

Truthfully, I would have felt embarrassed if it weren’t for the totally ridiculous laugh that came out of Noah when he saw me in the swamp. His laugh was funnier than the situation itself. I’ve never heard anything like it. Nobody knew where to look.

‘But the good news is, she gave us free entry for next time, so we can go back.’ At this he smiles, and I roll my eyes.

‘No way. It’s going to be a long time before I walk an alpaca again. My bum is going to be bruised for a month.’ I shift from side to side as I say this.

‘Hmm. Your bum is slowly becoming one of my favourite sights.’ I blush again. I can’t help it. ‘At the risk of sounding pervy, your bum looks superb in those jeans. I would tell you to never take them off, but that would be rather self-sabotaging.’

I squirm. I know he means it as a compliment, but …

‘What? I can’t appreciate your bum?’

I find myself turning a bit red. ‘No, you can. It’s just …’ I can’t find the right words. Everything I think through makes it sound like I am full of totally contradictory thoughts and feelings that make no sense – and are also a little superfluous for someone in a very casual relationship. So I shrug and take another bite of sandwich.

‘It’s just what?’

I wish I had simply accepted the compliment. I chew slowly to give myself a bit more time. He shuffles across the floor as though whatever I say will be revolutionary. He looks funny as he shuffles, though I’m not sure he means to. I put the sandwich down and shake off the crumbs. I don’t know why, but I decide to tell him the truth. This month he took me walking with alpacas, but next month he will be doing something else with someone else. If you have nothing to lose, there is nothing to fear. ‘Well, you can thank me for this advice later, but it’s just that, sure, girls want you to find them attractive, but they want you to find them attractive for their personality as well as for their bums.’ I feel a little self-conscious about the admission because although I said ‘girls’ it’s very obvious that what I really mean is ‘me’. Although, he does win some brownie points for liking a part of me that I have always struggled with. I’ve always been a bit self-conscious about my bum, and knowing he appreciates it makes me happy. It’s proof that no matter what you’re selling, there will always be someone interested in buying.

‘Noted. Does this mean I can compliment your other gifts too?’

I scoff. ‘No, because if you say anything nice now, I’ll think you’re being insincere.’

He looks at me, and I feel the blush coming back. ‘I’ll have to store them up for later, then.’

Comfortable, but slightly charged, silence hangs around us for a while. Until …

My phone pings. It shocks me. It’s normally on silent.

‘You can look if you like.’

‘I don’t need to.’ I don’t want to.

It pings again and Noah stands up.

‘I’ll get us some wine.’ He’s already halfway to the kitchen. That boy is nimbler than he looks. ‘Is red OK?’

‘Perfect!’ I’ve never been picky with my wine.

I grab my phone. Unsurprisingly, it’s Chris, making an appearance at exactly the worst time. I wonder if part of the reason I am finding it hard to forget him is because he keeps reminding me that he exists.

Hey Paige. We love the semi-naked cake. Can you and I meet up to discuss? I’m free Tuesday evening. X

He is a fool then. If that was ever in doubt.

Noah comes back, holding two glasses and a bottle. I put down my phone. He approaches cautiously. ‘You OK? You look … I don’t know what you look like.’ I probably look somewhere between angry at Chris and frustrated at myself. ‘This is a facial expression I haven’t seen on you before.’

‘Oh, so you think you know my facial expressions?’ I try to make it sound light-hearted because it’s not Noah I am angry at, but I’m not entirely successful.

‘I’m starting to.’ He pours the wine, gives me a glass and goes to sit down.

I take a sip of my drink. It’s really nice wine. I decide to shake myself out of my frustration and ignore Chris, but the only questions I can think of are extremely mundane. ‘So, tell me, why did you choose ENT? Do you love looking up people’s noses or something?’

‘No, nothing like that.’

I’m looking down at my sandwich, so I don’t see his shifty, uncomfortable face until I’ve already asked, ‘Ears then?’

An almost imperceptible nod. ‘Closer to the mark. It’s the area that I always had an interest in.’ He might be learning about my facial expressions, but I am learning about his tone. For someone who is normally so easy-going, this is unusually stand-offish for him. I won’t pry; I know what it’s like to want to keep some things back and I don’t want to push him away. In this particular scenario, I would hate to end our tryst before our time is up. I will keep needing to be distracted if Chris is going to keep reappearing in my life.

With that in mind, I take another sip and change the subject to lighten the mood. ‘I think this wine might be worthy of more than slightly soggy room-temperature sandwiches.’

He looks and me and nods, asking a question without actually asking. ‘Probably.’

‘Don’t look at me. You were the one who said you could cook. I only handle sweet foods.’

He looks at the rug. ‘Yeah, about that. I don’t really do savoury foods either.’

I gasp in mock horror. ‘You mean you lied?’ It’s nice to be back to joking with him. I don’t like it when he is sad and aloof.

He nods and hangs his head in shame before looking back at me with a really earnest expression on his face. ‘But only because I don’t like mess. I wasn’t completely lying when I said I was really good at cleaning. I just also prefer not to make a mess in the first place.’

I look around. I hadn’t noticed before, but his apartment is extremely clean. And not just tidy; I don’t see any dust anywhere. It might even be cleaner than my kitchen.

Oh god. ‘But I made a mess in your kitchen.’ I worry that I inadvertently made him uncomfortable.

‘Your mess was OK. It was relatively contained.’

He’s right. I pride myself on cleaning as I go. You learn that it really helps. Things only become too much if you let them build up.

I stand, grunting a bit as I struggle to move my legs elegantly. ‘Let’s see what you have, just in case we can make something better than sandwiches.’ I make my way over to the kitchen and look in the cupboards and fridge. They are all almost empty, bar some very, very rudimentary store-cupboard essentials. ‘Do you live here at all?’

‘Not really.’

I jump. I had been too absorbed in my search to notice that he had come up right behind me.

I look back at the sad sandwiches. ‘It’s not much, but I have an idea.’

We still ended up picnicking on the floor, but the second time round our sandwiches were toasted and I made nachos out of some very eclectic store-cupboard ingredients. I don’t know why toasting sandwiches always makes them fancier, but it does. When toasted, they paired very nicely with the wine. It was a really great evening.

But now I am lying in Noah’s bed, trying not to freak out.

We had been right in the middle of sex, really great sex, when I almost called out Chris’s name instead of Noah’s. It’s not that I wanted to be having sex with Chris, but for some reason his face popped into my head at the most inopportune moment, and his name threatened to come out like a knee-jerk reaction. I stopped myself, but only just in time. And then I totally froze.

And then I had to fake my orgasm.

This in itself is not unusual. I would doubt the integrity of any woman who says she’s never faked it. We all do it sometimes, and our reason for faking it varies. Apathy. Energy levels. Anxiety. Fear. Frustration. Love.

This time I faked it because I needed the sex to end before I called out the wrong person’s name, thereby killing the possibility of ever having sex with Noah again, and probably really hurting his feelings. I don’t know if there is a single word to describe this emotion.

This has never happened before.

And I don’t want this to ever happen again.

There is no clear path in front of me. No clear steps to take that will ensure I get over Chris and whatever these feelings are. Not seeing him is still an option: I could be a bit of a dick and refuse to do his cake – there is no contract between us and even if there was, I could break it. But I have not seen him for many years and yet still almost called his name out in the middle of having sex.

Maybe we do have a bit of unfinished business. And maybe, until we finish it, I might never be able to completely forget him. Or orgasm again.

It’s one thing to affect my sleep. It’s another to affect my sex life.

I’ll agree to see him on Tuesday. It’s time to finish this.

I let go of the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.

Noah starts to snore next to me. I look across. It really is quite endearing, as snores go.

I get out of bed and get ready to leave. I’ll send him a message tomorrow morning saying I needed to leave early for a meeting. It’s a bit of a shit thing to do, but it’s better than staying. I need to escape before I get trapped by pancakes. I look back at him before I sneak out.

It would be easy to fall in love with someone like him.

It is harder to fall in love with someone like me.