It Sounded Better in My Head - Nina Kenwood Page 0,62
I can second-guess myself, I send another message.
— Do you want to come?
No. I’ve gone too far in the other direction now. I’ve asked him out. I’ve literally asked him out. He ignored me for two days and this is how I respond.
I need a paper bag to breathe into or one of those stress balls to squeeze or a block of chocolate to stuff into my mouth—please god, give me something to do with my hands before I recklessly send any more soul-exposing texts.
The little ‘I’m typing’ dots appear, then they disappear, and my text sits there unanswered like a humiliating stain on the fabric of humanity.
Seconds tick by. I start the stopwatch on my phone, because it feels important to know the exact details when I analyse this with Lucy later.
A whole minute passes.
At one minute and twenty-three seconds, the typing dots reappear. At one minute and twenty-nine seconds, he finally replies.
— Sure, what movie?
Does that mean, Sure I’ll definitely come, what movie are we seeing? Or is it more, Sure, I might be interested, depends on the movie? And why did he need one minute and twenty-nine seconds for that reply?
I wait for exactly one minute and thirty seconds to pass before I respond, to maintain a shred of dignity.
— The Final Reckoning
— It’s a horror movie
— We’re seeing the 6.30pm session
— It’s had some good reviews
— Well good might be an exaggeration, it’s had mixed reviews
— Here’s the link to the trailer
I stop myself before I can send a seventh text message in a row. I put my phone down. It’s okay if he takes a while to respond now. He might want to watch the trailer, or read some reviews, or look at the Rotten Tomatoes score or—
A new message pops onto my screen.
— Sounds good. Should I pick you up?
Last time I was alone in the car with him I couldn’t think of anything to say for most of the trip. Nope. Best to meet him there.
I send him the details of where to meet and he writes see you then and I angst over whether or not that needs a reply, and if it does, whether or not I have waited too long to reply, and then I finally send a thumbs up emoji, throw my phone away from me, walk into my bedroom and collapse facedown on my bed.
If every step of dating is this torturous, I won’t survive.
25
Are You Having Fun Yet?
‘Hi.’
‘Hi.’
‘Hi.’
‘Hi.’
Ten seconds in, and this double-date is a disaster. We make small talk about popcorn and choc-tops, and I am acutely aware of how far apart Alex and I are standing and that Zach and Lucy are holding hands, which I suspect is so Lucy can grip his hand tightly as a warning if he starts to say the wrong thing, but, still, it makes me feel extremely aware of their closeness and our separateness. A double-date, I realise, means you are pitching your coupling into direct comparison with another couple, and Alex and I have no chance of measuring up to Zach and Lucy. Zach and Lucy are the Olympic champions of coupling, and Alex and I are amateurs trying out a sport for the first time, stumbling around confused about the rules.
Alex and Zach are being overly polite to each other in a way that’s making me tense. They’re not polite brothers. Every word between them has an undercurrent of darker meaning. Zach and I are simply avoiding eye contact or directly speaking to each other at all. An apology does not seem to be forthcoming. I am also avoiding making eye contact with Alex because looking into his eyes makes me nervous. I am attracted to him with an intensity that feels deeply embarrassing and I’m worried that might not be normal.
Because of the weird tension floating between three of us, Lucy is left to do a lot of social heavy lifting, but, luckily, she’s good at filling silence with cheerful chat that doesn’t require any input from anyone else. (‘I keep seeing that poster for that movie everywhere, and I have no idea what it’s about, at all, and I just think if you look at a poster and have no idea what the movie is about, if you can’t even guess the genre, then the poster is a failure, but, then again, I’m talking about it, so maybe it’s a success.’)
We walk into the theatre with Lucy leading the way, which means I end up