The First Date - Zara Stoneley Page 0,64

in danger of rewriting my ‘suitable guy’ list so that he has a chance of sneaking in. Shit. Let’s face it, I am talking about fancying the pants off a guy who has just spent the evening with another woman. While I’ve been dating another man.

‘He was fine, we had a nice evening, but no, if it makes you happy.’ It needs saying, honesty is the best policy. ‘He wasn’t the most exciting guy I’ve ever been out with.’

‘Haha! I knew it! Didn’t I say that, was I right or was I—’

‘What do you mean, haha! Come on, Noah, it’s actually none of your business if I fancied the pants off him, is it? You’re just here to help me make guys fancy the pants off me. And he seemed to!’

‘He did.’

‘So, you got a result.’

‘I suppose so,’ he says slightly sulkily.

‘Anyway, what happened to your date? Was she pissed off because you were interfering with Steve at the bar, and following him to the toilets?’

He flinches and pulls a funny face.

Okay, maybe that didn’t come out right. ‘You know what I mean! Why did you have to stick your nose in? I didn’t come over there and give you advice, did I?’

‘Like what? I’m the teacher here!’ He smiles.

‘Like asking if that’s the way to go – full on brassy-blonde hair extensions. I could have found out where she had them done!’

‘Woah, woah, woah, my little Rosie!’

I’m being bitchy. What is he doing to me? This is so not me. Shit, he is making me sound jealous. Okay, honesty time, he is making me feel jealous – and I hate it, because I’ve spent a large part of my life feeling it. I’ve watched Dad move in a little too close to other women, spend a little too much time with other women, and this conversation is reminding me of that.

I must stop.

I don’t want to be with a man who makes me feel like Dad did.

‘Don’t call me little! And I’m not yours.’ Take a deep breath, do not let him make you angry. ‘You really don’t need to keep an eye on me, you know!’

‘True, you’re not mine, are you? So you keep telling me! Anyway, for your information, delightful Daisy was not pissed off with me talking to your date. She started to ask about my job, my house, my five-year plan.’ He grimaces. ‘Boring. I told her I wasn’t the guy for her, and I had business to attend to!’

‘I’m not business.’ I can hear the sullen edge to my voice. This is why my ‘man requirement’ list must not allow a Noah-shaped spot in my life. Even if I am happy to have a few casual dates right now, I’m a Daisy through and through. My question checklist includes all those details that Noah finds so boring. Why does he have to be so not-the-right-guy for me? Sometimes life is so unfair!

‘Yup you are. Saw he was about to go—’

‘You chased him off!’

‘Hang on!’ I suddenly feel slightly more cheerful. ‘You’re jealous!’

‘I am not!’

‘You are.’ I grin. He grins back and looks a bit sheepish.

‘Okay I admit it, a teeny-teeny bit jealous that a guy who is completely wrong for you is getting to spend the evening with you. When you could be sitting with me, making me laugh and helping me polish my ego.’

‘Oh yeah? So I’m your cheap entertainment?’

‘Not so cheap.’ He grins. ‘But definitely entertaining. I’d rather,’ the grin drops, and he takes my hand in his, ‘be here with you talking about Hugo and dating disasters, than be with anybody else in the world.’

I know he’s taking the mickey, but it’ll do for me.

‘So here I am ready to help you reflect on lessons learned.’

‘Haha. So forgetting all the flannel, basically you ducked out because it got personal with Daisy?’

‘Ooo I’m being analysed!’

‘Did a girl break your heart, Noah?’ We’re still in jokey-mode, and the question has come into my head from nowhere, but it has suddenly hit me. Why else would he be keener to spend time teaching a girl like me to date, than actually getting stuck in with a girl who knows the score and wants to play by his rules?

‘Haha, amateur psychologist, Rosie.’ He slumps down beside me and gazes up. Then reaches out and strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. It’s so tender and deliberate all the antagonism between us disappears; it brings a lump to my throat. I must have drunk

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