telling you you’d got it wrong!’
I let this sink in. ‘You really were jealous?’
Noah nods. ‘And even if you don’t want me, Rosie. I don’t want you to hook up with some guy for all the wrong reasons because I fed you a load of shit.’
‘It wasn’t …’
‘It was.’ He holds a hand up. ‘Just listen eh? This is hard. This isn’t a chat-up line; this is a whole speech I’ve got prepared.’ He actually looks sheepish, awkward. More like the person I am when I’m faced with a potential date, than the person he is.
It’s cute. Endearing. ‘I’ve fucked up and I don’t want to fuck you up as well. Rosie.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘I’ve missed you. I’ve not been on a date since you blew me out cos I realised I didn’t want to. It’s meaningless if I’m not with somebody I want to be with, who means something. And you do.’
‘I do?’ Our thighs are actually touching now; I feel a bit heady and faint if I’m honest.
‘You do. Mean something. It’s you I want to spend time with.’
‘Oh.’
‘I’ve been using those lame moves and chat-up lines to keep myself from getting close to anybody; it was strictly a first date thing, but then being with you fucked it up.’
‘It did?’
‘It made me realise I want to be close to somebody, at least take the risk, try it.’
‘You do?’ I squeak.
‘You’re the first woman since I grew up, apart from Gem and Millie, that I’ve spent real time with, talked about real things.’ He rests a finger on my lips briefly. I want to lick it. I don’t. ‘That I’ve been me with. That I’ve missed like hell when I’ve not seen you.’ He’s gazing at me with such sincerity in his eyes I’m trembling inside. ‘That I’ve wanted to be more than mates with, that I’ve fancied.’
‘You fancy me?’ I say, my voice distant even to my own ears.
‘Oh God, do I fancy you, Rosie Brown. I can’t stand seeing you going out with all those idiots, unless,’ he pauses uncharacteristically, unsure again, ‘you’re into one of them?’
I smile and a strange feeling of warmth starts to seep through my body and make me feel like laughing out loud. I repress it. There’s plenty of time for him to find out just how loopy I am later. He needs easing in gently. ‘I’m not into any of them.’
‘That’s handy seeing as,’ he trails his finger along my cheek, and I lean into it, ‘I need to start again. Dating. Do it right this time. Will you help me?’
‘Well, er yes. If I can.’
His warm hand is on my knee. ‘I don’t half fancy you, Rosie Brown.’
‘Maybe you should kiss me then?’
Oh boy, talk about anticipation. I’m practically quivering as he turns to face me properly, cups my face in his large capable hands.
‘Maybe I should.’
I can taste him before his lips touch mine.
This kiss isn’t like the last time, or the time before. Or the time before that. Wow, just how many kisses have we had while we’ve not been dating?
I’ve lost count. But I don’t care. Forget them, they’re not important.
This is gentle, this is touching, this is so intimate and searching I lose all track of where we are, and why I ever doubted.
I feel like crying, but not crying, like laughing, but not laughing. I feel happy and sad, but most of all I feel like reaching out, showing him how I feel with my touch. Most of all I don’t feel afraid that I’m going to get it wrong. That I have more to lose than I have to gain.
‘Wow.’ He rests his forehead against mine. His finger on my lips.
‘Wow.’ I mouth back.
‘I need to ask you something.’
There’s a long silence, as though he is waiting for permission. So I nod.
‘Rosie Brown, will you come on a date with me? A proper first date?’
‘No chat-up lines?’
‘Well not many, just me, like this. I mean, you do know I can’t actually completely stop the lame chat-up lines.’
‘And just me, like this.’
‘Well almost, you could ditch the “bargain” sticker on your boob.’
Oh gawd, I have a cut-price sticker stuck to me! How could he not tell me? How many people have walked past us and got completely the wrong idea? It could be worse, I suppose, it could say ‘2 for 1’ or ‘slightly damaged’.
‘And the white paint highlight in your hair if you like.’
‘Haha.’ I’d forgotten about that. My answer