As I wake up, details of last night trickle back into my mind. Daniel’s smile, his smell, the feel of his lips against mine. It’s like waking up from one of those amazing dreams, when for a second you think something incredible has happened, but then real life comes clattering down around you. Except last night wasn’t a dream. It actually happened. My dress is still draped over the back of my desk chair where I left it, my clutch is on the desk. I grab my phone from my bedside table and open up the last text from Daniel.
Glad you got home safe. Sweet dreams, beautiful x
I lie in bed, mentally replaying the night. Not only does Daniel meet all the ludicrously far-fetched and superficial criteria of my Dream Dates profile - being gorgeous, sexy and stinking rich - but what’s almost more surprising is that he actually seems like a nice guy. He was gentlemanly, funny, smart and so easy to talk to. I think of the moment he folded the barmaid’s number into an origami bird and find myself smiling – he was quirky too. Eventually, I drag myself out of bed and find Kate sitting on the sofa in the living room, making notes on a script with a biro. Light streams in through the window.
‘Oh, hey. Thought you were staying at Max’s?’
‘I was, but I started freaking out this morning. I’ve got my audition for The Mousetrap this week. Kept trying to read the script but Max’s flatmate was listening to funk non-stop. Who listens to funk?! Couldn’t bear it so I just left.’
Kate rolls her eyes and reaches for her cup of tea.
‘Fair enough.’
‘You look…’ Kate searches for the right word. ‘Different. Happy.’
I can’t help breaking into a grin. Screw it. I’m going to have to tell her at some point, it may as well be now.
‘Kate, you know that guy from Dream Dates?’
Kate looks momentarily blank. ‘That Robert Pattinson guy?’
‘Yeah. Well, I met him last night and he’s the real deal! He looks just like Robert Pattinson in person, he’s so unbelievably gorgeous and cool and funny and smart and he’s just… Oh my God.’ I collapse onto the sofa.
‘Seriously?’ Kate places her script aside.
‘Yeah, he’s something else. He’s on a completely different level to the guys I’ve been meeting. I can’t believe it, he’s just… incredible!’
Kate frowns a little. ‘So, he actually looks like Robert Pattinson? Like, genuinely?’
‘Yeah! People thought he was Robert Pattinson, it was insane!’
‘That’s mad! Where did you meet him?’
‘The Cavendish Club. He’s a member,’ I tell her, unable to stop a gleeful grin from spreading over my face.
‘The Cavendish Club? Seriously?’
‘Yep!’
‘That’s where my agent takes her A-list clients. Do you know how much it costs to be a member there?’
I shrug.
‘It’s loads.’ Kate reaches for a steaming mug on the coffee table. ‘What does this guy do then? What’s his name?’
I give her the low-down as she sips her tea.
‘Hmmm…’ she murmurs, placing the empty mug back down.
‘Oh Kate, he was so cool. Everything about him.’
‘He sounds really rich.’
‘I know! He paid for everything! We drank the most amazing wine and then he got me a cab home. He’s such a gentleman.’
‘But I don’t get it, if he’s so rich and amazing, what’s he doing—’
‘On Dream Dates?’ I interject.
‘Yeah,’ Kate muses.
‘He said he’s sick of all these fake, forward women,’ I explain, telling her about the barmaid.
Kate laughs at the story, but there’s a hint of tension around her eyes.
‘What’s up?’ I ask.
‘I don’t know, Sophia. I don’t mean to put a downer on this but I reckon he might have an agenda. Why would a guy like that be mixing with…’ She trails off, suddenly blushing. ‘I mean, why would he be on Dream Dates?’
‘Why would a guy like that be mixing with a girl like me, you mean?’ I look at her, aghast.
‘No, just…’
I can practically see her mind racing.
‘It just all seems a little odd. It just seems a bit too good to—’
‘And if it’s too good to be true, it must be, right? Because a gorgeous guy, who happens to be rich, could never legitimately be interested in someone like me.’
‘No, I didn’t mean it like that, I just—’ She stops when I roll my eyes and get up from the sofa.
I head to the bathroom and shut the door hard behind me. I run a bath and try to ignore Kate calling my name from next door. Fortunately, the sound of the gushing water pretty much drowns her out and by the time my bath is full, she’s gone silent. I take off my pyjamas and stretch out in the steaming, bubbling water, but instead of being able to relax, I just lie there, seething. I can’t believe Kate. How dare she imply that I’m not good enough for Daniel? She’s supposed to be my best friend. And anyway, she was the one who encouraged me not to give up online dating. She’s the one who twisted my arm into joining Dream Dates! She should be happy for me. I pick up her bottle of special rosewater shower gel. She’s always going on about how it costs £14.95 a bottle and ‘lathers up well, so if you’re going to use it just use a pea-sized amount.’ Hmmph. I squirt out a grape-sized amount. Ha. Have that, Kate.
I scrub it over my body and try to push the angry thoughts out of my head but they just grow in intensity instead. It’s so ridiculous that people make out that they want you to be happy and meet someone, and then when it actually happens, all they do is pick holes and find fault. And yes, it might seem a little strange just how perfect Daniel is, but I’m sure stranger things have happened. And anyway, when did Kate become so bloody pessimistic? She used to have all sorts of dreams. I remember one evening a few years ago, she came out of her bedroom looking teary and I asked her what was up.
‘I just started imagining my Oscar speech and I got so carried away that I cried tears of joy,’ she confessed, laughing at her own starry-eyed daydreams. She never talks about Oscars anymore, but just because she’s stopped dreaming big, doesn’t mean I have to.
I climb out of the bath, pulling out the plug to let it drain. The pipes make loud gurgling noises as the water is sucked away.
Kate knocks on the door. ‘Sophia.’
I grab my towel and start squeezing the water out of my hair.
‘Sophia.’ She knocks again. Seven or eight times. ‘Sophia, stop ignoring me.’
‘What?’ I snap.
‘Let me in.’
I put on my dressing gown and reluctantly unlock the door, releasing a cloud of warm damp air towards her. I turn back to the mirror and carry on patting my hair dry while Kate closes the toilet seat and sits down.
‘I’m sorry for what I said, it came out completely wrong,’ she says.
‘Right, because there’s a nice way to tell your best friend they’re not good enough for the guy they’re seeing?’
‘Of course not, that’s not what I meant. I was talking about people like us, not you,’ Kate replies. ‘We’re just normal people. We come from boring little towns, not Abu Dhabi. We drink in pubs, not private members’ clubs. All our friends are like us, we’re all just regular people. We’re not super-rich.’
‘Yeah, and…?’
‘It just seems a little odd that this guy who must be absolutely minted is using dating sites meant for ordinary people. You know, I once read an article about this girl, she thought she’d met the perfect guy online, and the next thing she knew, he was asking her to smuggle drugs for him across the Columbian border.’
I sigh loudly. ‘I’m not an idiot, Kate. I’m not going to smuggle drugs or do something stupid.’
I toss my hair over my shoulder and towel it vigorously.
‘I know,’ Kate says, although by the tone of her voice, she doesn’t sound too convinced. ‘My point is you need to be careful. I know how much you want to meet someone special, and believe me, I want that for you as well, but I want you to be safe too.’
Her voice is annoyingly tender.
I glance down at her, sitting there on the toilet, looking glum. Deep down, I know she means well.
‘Okay,’ I mumble.
‘So, you’re not annoyed at me?’ Kate asks in a small voice.
‘No, I suppose not…’
Kate jumps up from the toilet seat and gives me a tight hug. ‘Love you!’ she says, squeezing my shoulders.
‘Love you too.’
Kate sniffs at my neck. ‘Love you, even if you have been using my shower gel.’
I grin mischievously as Kate shakes her head.
‘Right, now that we’ve got all that out of the way, can I tell you about last night, properly?’ I ask.
‘Fine!’ Kate laughs. ‘But then I’ve got to read this bloody script.’
We make a cup of tea and prepare roasted bananas with mixed spice, nuts and demerara sugar – our weekend favourite. It almost feels like we’re at a camp, huddled round the kitchen table, eating spoonfuls of molten banana from husks of tin foil. But I suppose that childhood nostalgia is why we do it.
‘I have to admit, he does sound nice,’ Kate admits, placing her spoon down on top of the empty foil.
‘I know!’
‘So, when are you seeing him next?’
I pick up my phone just to check if any messages have come through. In case the message notification went off while we were busy talking. But no.
‘Not sure. He just said he’d see me “soon,”’ I tell her, doing air quotes.
‘Text him,’ Kate says.
‘No. No way.’ I finish the last few mouthfuls of my banana.. ‘I’m going to wait for him to text me. Leave the ball in his court.’
Kate smirks a little. ‘Alright. I’d better go read this script.’ She sighs, before shuffling off to the sofa.
‘Cool, good luck.’
I go to my room, flop onto the bed and twirl my phone in my hand, but no amount of willing seems to make a message come through. I grab my laptop and open my novel, picking up where I left off. I try to write but I can’t get Daniel out of my head. I click onto Google and type in his name again. I scroll through the results but none of them seem to point to him. I try typing ‘Daniel Hamilton-Reed, Interior Designer,’ but still, nothing comes up, which is a bit odd. Surely, he’d have a website, or some kind of record for his company? I try typing his name in Companies House, but still, nothing. I would have expected something. Maybe there is something weird about this whole thing. No! I close the browser. Just because Kate’s cynical, doesn’t mean I need to be infected by that kind of thinking too.
I open up my novel and start typing when my phone buzzes. It’s Daniel!
Hey Sophia, hope you’re feeling good this morning. I’m flying to Milan on Tuesday but do you want to meet on Monday night? X
I grin, clutching my phone to my chest, my doubts falling by the wayside.