Page 18 of The Wedding Game

I’ve been trying not to pick up my phone too much as I don’t want to look like a slacker, but I’m on my own, as the girl next to me is on her lunch break. I grab my mobile and half-heartedly search for jobs, but I’m distracted as the screen lights up with the words:Lexie, it was good to meet you at the wedding. This is my number. Do you fancy lunch with me on Sunday? Josh.

Oh my word, what is going on? When I saw the text come through, I hoped it might be Chris. But it’s not.Joshis messaging me. I don’t know how I feel about this. Flattered, I think. But lunch feels like a strange first date. Surely evening drinks, or even dinner, is the norm for a first date. I’ve never been asked out on a first date in the middle of the day on a Sunday. I look at the message for a while, then put my phone away.

It’s only when I get home later that night that I decide to reply, because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go on a date at all.Dates can be torture.Warm wine, zero personality. Although I know Josh has a good personality, so that’s that box ticked. He’s also hot, and a great kisser … There is, however, this slightly odd feeling that what I’m doing with Josh is some form of betrayal, coming as it does on the back of what went on between Chris and me, or rather what is still going on between Chris and me. Chris was there and then he was gone. I thought that was it. But now we’re talking across the airwaves and that feeling from when we first met … it hasn’t gone away. It’s intensified.

I wondered … what if?

Me too.

It’s hard not to feel totally alive after that conversational connection. But Josh is the one who’s here, and he’s kind – saving me at the bar as he did – and funny. And attractive. What if I don’t take the possibility of Josh seriously? I might be throwing something away that has potential, because he is here, right now, on this text message, asking me out. And Chris … is not.

Oh, Lexie, just get on with it. Take a chance. Get on with your life.

All right then,I reply and then hit save on his number.

All right then?he echoes immediately.What kind of reply is that?He adds a laughing emoji.

I’m quick to type back.Why lunch?

I’m quite tight on time on Sunday. Lunch is all I can squeeze in. I’ve got a few hours,though. Any good?

And there was I, thinkingIwas playing it cool. But it’s Josh who’s squeezing me in around other events, other thingsgoing on in his life. Now I want to know what he’s fitting me in around. Well played, Josh.

I agree to our day-date and Josh says he’ll message me a location later on. That evening he sends me the link to a venue, which turns out to be in the far reaches of the West End. He asks if I can get there with ease, which I can, although it’s a bit of a journey from where I live in Edmonton Green. I am now curious about Josh – where he lives, what he does and why he’s tight on time on a Sunday. That’s good, isn’t it? To have a level of curiosity about someone you’ve already kissed, someone you’ve already stripped away a layer from.

I climb into bed later that night and pick up my phone. I look at Josh’s messages again, the easy exchange we had, the speed at which we settled on a location and a time.

I’m single and in demand. I should just roll with it – roll with all of it, see what happens.

It was easy to get caught up in the moment with Chris. But I feel more vulnerable in the relative safety of being a keyboard warrior than I would if he was standing in front of me. If he was here with me, I feel as if I could say anything. How did he get me to feel that so early on? As if the universe hears me, a message from Chris lands on my screen, a simpleHi, which does things to me it shouldn’t.

It’s early evening in New York, so I’m guessing he’s just finishing his working day. I wonder if he’s already eating dinner or catching a train or a bus home from work. Perhaps he’s in a bar with some friends or still at his desk and has chosen this moment to break free for a minute, to message me.

I didn’t scare you off with my ‘what if’ comment?I test.

Why would you scare me off?he replies.I was feeling the same thing. Still am.

And although his words are so simple, my world fills with colour. I’m placing too much on our connection, I’m sure of it.

I worried I’d scared you off by inviting you out here,he continues.Although I have since realised we’d only have had one day together before I had to go to work. I was a bit cavalier with my invite.

I like cavalier,I say.Go on, taunt me with all the fun things we could have got up to in New York before you’d have cruelly left me to my own devices.

He’s typing for ages and I watch, inhaling deeply in anticipation. The message lands in one big paragraph.I’d thought about this. We’d sleep off our jet lag, although I’m a pro now, but I’d have been patient while you slept. Then brunch. I’ve been trying to really discover the city, making a point of finding places I like, rather than going where everyone else goes or where I’ve been used to going. We’d have been for a walk in the park. Right down The Mall, with all the trees. I admit that’s where everyone goes, but I really like that walk. I think you’d have liked it too. A stop for coffee. If you wanted to see anywhere else, we’d have factored that in. Shops, or whatever. I’d have given you carte blanche to be a tourist. I’d have been happy just being in your company.

I smile at this. He’d have been happy just being in my company. My heart! What is he doing to me?The day sounds perfect,I reply.Minus the shops. I would love that, but shopping in New York would have been financial suicide. A girlcan dream, though.All of it’s a dream really. New York with Chris was a lovely idea, but not a reality. I can play along, though.And then what?

I’m not sure I thought much past that,he types and I suspect he’s not telling the truth. He must have given sleeping arrangements at least a passing thought.Dinner,he says.And then …

He leaves that opener there.

How many bedrooms does your flat have?I ask, probably a bit too suggestively, but now I like that he can’t see me and I can’t see him. There is safety in hiding behind a keyboard after all.

One,he replies and then says nothing.

I say nothing. I’m smiling, though, and the silence from him is killing me. I won’t be the first to break. I stare at the phone. Still nothing, so I cave.Where would I have slept?

Perhaps I didn’t think about that part, either, when I threw that invite out there. Where would you have wanted to sleep?he asks.

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