AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Yep. You do,’ I confirm with a glance, arms settling by my sides.
‘Could you perhaps,’ he speaks with the easy patience of someone teaching a preschooler two plus two, ‘take them out, please?’
I sigh and he dips his head for me. The humidity’s defined his curls and I reluctantly pick out the white flowers from the soft mass of hair, streaked with shades of auburn and gold amidst the brown, willing myself not to give in to the overwhelming urge to run my fingers through it.
Unwelcome foliage removed, he stands up straight. We’re back to not touching, but he turns to me, our eyes level, and asks, ‘Can I?’
I nod and he rests a tentative arm around my shoulder like we’re just two platonic buds hanging out on our platonic afternoon in a platonic date spot. Because that’s what we are. But still, my brain is whirling with confusing thoughts at his proximity.
‘Wiggle a bit closer together.’ The lady motions with her hand, evidently taking her photographer duties extremely seriously.
I shift into him and delicately place my hand on his back, feeling the soft linen of his shirt. A waft of musky cologne washes over me as he shifts position, and I tighten my hold on the fabric. I’m keenly aware of the moment his hand drifts down to my waistand he pulls me infinitesimally closer, long fingers searing through my t-shirt as they splay across my ribcage.
Am I okay? It’s his fuckinghand, Ava, chill out. I really need to work on allowing physical touch in non-sexual settings.
‘Oh you guys are so cute!’ I have no idea what’s going on with my face, but she seems to approve, so I pull the same expression the whole time, my mind in hazy disarray behind the eyes. ‘Okay, I’m done. Incredible work, if I say so myself.’
We thank her and I head through the arch first, eager to escape the confined space and reenter the real world, where I can collect my thoughts.
‘Do you want to see the photos?’ Finn asks as we walk back across the bridge over the koi pond.
‘I’m good. I’m sure they’re great.’ I wonder how to put some distance between us. We get stuck behind a group of school kids looking at the terrapins and Finn takes the moment of pause to step in front of me, eyebrows raised, an infuriating smirk pulling at one side of his mouth.
‘You okay there? You seem a bit, I dunno. Weird.’
‘I’m fine.’ The heat is doing something to my brain. I need to remember why I keep people at arm’s length. Why I’m not allowed to lean into volatile things like sparks and potential. And while we’re at it, I need to remember how to not act like a teenager who’s never so much as held hands with a boy before. I didn’t spend countless nights with men from dating apps to fall at the barest touch from a Finn-shaped hurdle. It’s embarrassing. What I really need is to spend another uncomplicated night on an easy, insignificant date. While my thoughts whirl, Finn waits, so I add, ‘Just a bit thirsty.’
Immediately his eyebrows draw together. ‘Want me to fill up your bottle?’
As he hunts for a fountain, I watch oneof the gardeners work. He sweeps fallen foliage to the edge of the path, only for more leaves to fall in its place the second he’s finished. As hard as he tries to keep everything contained, there’s always mess to clean up.
15
looking for someone who does, actually, take themselves too seriously
A V A
A booming voice soundsacross the pub. ‘For a total of four points, what are the four official languages of Switzerland?’
‘German, French, Italian and Romansh. Write it down,’ my date says under his breath. I struggle to hear him over the murmurs around us as people try to come up with their own answers. He grabs the pen out of my hand to write the answer himself. ‘No, that’s not how you spell it. It’s “sh”, not “ch”.’
Sam-from-Hinge is, apparently, an ultimate quizzer. I’m usually attracted to intelligence, so figured he was as good a person as any to go on a date with. Unfortunately, he is extremely intense, and somehow,impossibly, appears to have even worse interpersonal skills than I do.
‘Excuse me,’ he says, shooting his hand in the air like we’re in year three, stretching in his seat to raise it high enough to grab the quizmaster’s attention.
‘Would you like me to repeat the question?’ the man asks into his microphone. I down my second drink of the evening in preparation for whatever Sam is about to say.
‘I wanted to let you know that this team,’ he points at the table to our right, ‘just searched the answer on one of their phones.’
The entire room stifles a laugh as everyone looks in ourdirection.
‘Sam, I’m sure they were just checking the time,’ I say quietly, hoping to divert attention.
He looks at me like I’ve suggested we wrangle a snake right here in the pub and continues, volume rising over the growing hubbub, ‘No, they should be disqualified.’
‘The prize is a £20 bar tab,’ I reason, ‘it’s not that deep.’ The glare he sends my way confirms that he believes it is, in fact, that deep. To him, it is the Mariana fucking Trench.
‘Thanks for letting us know. We’ll, uh, look into it,’ the quizmaster continues, evidently lying. ‘But that’s round three complete. We’ll take a ten-minute break before the fourth round.’
