Page 18 of Swiping Right (and other disasters)

“Est-ce vous voulez un deuxieme latte?”

“God, that’s hot. No idea what you said, mind!” Clodagh’s brazen ability to compliment her brought heat to Kiera’s cheeks.

Through her laughter, she said, “I asked if you wanted another latte, and almost certainly did it with a terrible accent and several mistakes.”

“Sounded good to me. Sod the latte – there’s a bar over the road. Do you want a glass of wine?” Kiera’s eyes widened. This was not what she’d expected, but it felt like fun.

“Sure,” she said. As she stood to put on her coat, she glanced over at Seymour, who gave her a knowing wink. She blushed again. She’d not realised she could be so easily flustered. Or maybe it was Clodagh’s confidence that did it.

“Red or white?” asked Kiera when they reached the bar.

“White,” said Clodagh.

“You sit here, I’ll get the drinks.” Kiera needed a moment to gather her thoughts. She returned from the bar with a bottle and two glasses. “Don’t worry, you don’t need to drink more than a glass. It was cheaper to buy the bottle rather than two glasses of wine.”

“Babe, you get better and better,” said Clodagh. “I love it.”

“Babe?”

“Is that not ok?” said Clodagh, clinking her glass with Kiera’s.

“No one’s ever called me that before, I’m just not used to it. Cheers.”

“Cheers, babe,” said Clodagh, deliberately making eye contact. Kiera smiled. She was enjoying herself.

The evening sped by and they talked about everything and nothing, and Kiera was reminded of nights out when she was younger – before she was married, before Chrissie. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much on a date.

“Do you live near here?” asked Clodagh.

“Yeah, a few minutes’ walk away.”

“Well, that’s convenient.” Clodagh drained her glass and shared out the dregs of the bottle between them.

“More wine?” asked Kiera.

“You need to read the room a bit better,” said Clodagh, with a laugh. Her eyes sparkled.

“Sorry, have I done something wrong? Are you feeling pressured?”

Clodagh laughed again. “Babe, I told you how convenient your place was. That’s the bit where you invite me for coffee.”

“Ah,” said Kiera, aware of the dark red in her cheeks but completely unable to hide it. “Well yes, obviously, if you’d like a coffee, you could always come to my flat.”

“Done,” said Clodagh, finishing the last of the wine. Kiera silently hoped she remembered how to do this – whatever ‘this’ ended up being.

They put their coats on, and for the first time since they’d met, silence fell as they walked towards Kiera’s place. The walk took them across and along Kings Heath High Street. The pubs and restaurants bustled, but the street was quiet. It was only a few minutes before they reached the Station Road turning, and soon they were walking past the large Edwardian terraces that made up the street. They were a mix of family homes, houses divided into flats, and those full of bedsits.

Kiera unlocked the large wooden front door, the paint from which was beginning to peel. She passed the downstairs residence and went upstairs to her own, where she opened a plain wooden door into the hallway of her flat.

Kiera was naturally tidy – even more so since she’d been living alone again. Chrissie embraced creativity and chaos, and while that had been attractive in the early days, full of excitement and spontaneity, after a while the chaos began to lose its shine. Kiera remembered longing for an empty surface – space for a cup of tea and a book. Heavens, just space for her to walk across the living room unencumbered.

“Wow,” said Clodagh, as they walked into the kitchen. “You’re like a proper grown-up.” She looked around in faux wonder.

Kiera laughed. “What do you mean? Are you not a grown-up?”

“Definitely not, which is why I don’t have an actual proper coffee machine, and a clean and tidy kitchen.”

“Ah,” said Kiera, “that is my pride and joy.” She gazed fondly at her powder blue espresso machine. It had been a housewarming gift from Lou. Far too expensive, of course, but far too nice to say no to. “What can I get you? A cappuccino? A latte? Or are you a purist – an espresso?” Kiera started getting the coffee paraphernalia out of the cupboard above the machine. She felt a presence close behind her, and a hand on her waist.

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