Page 178 of Falling for You
‘Yeah. Listen to this: hello, my name is Tanya.’
‘That’s a no, then.’
She hits my arm and we both laugh as the bus turns towards the street that the Clapham Arms sits on. I reach forward and press the bell.
‘Oh, I’m so excited,’ Tanya says as we clamber to our feet and stagger down the stairs. ‘We haven’t done this in ages.’
‘Shall we get a Chinese after?’
‘Definitely, but don’t tell Penny,’ she says as we thank the driver and hop off the bus. ‘She’s jealous enough as it is.’
It’s a cold, crisp night and our breath puffs out in front of us like little clouds.
The Clapham Arms is a small pub sandwiched between a Costa and a charity shop on Clapham High Street. It’s a Tardis inside, with a squashed bar stacked with every bottle you can imagine, which stretches back a surprisingly long way. It’s like climbing into a rabbit hole: on the outside itlooks so cute and dinky, but once you’re inside suddenlyyou’rethe cute and dinky one. We’ve been here a few times over the years. The garden catches the early afternoon sun and, if you go at the right time, is the perfect place to cradle a cider and lightly sizzle your skin.
Tonight, the right-hand side of the pub has been transformed into an arena for dating. All the tables have a limp rose in the middle, and a small tea light flickering hopefully. Singletons are milling around the bar, chatting with friends and stealing glances at the other spectators. Tanya links her arm in mine as we walk straight to the bar. We’re greeted by an older man in a flat cap holding a clipboard.
‘Good evening, ladies,’ he says. ‘Are you here for speed dating?’
‘Yes, please,’ Tanya smiles. The man ticks a few boxes.
‘You’ve got the last couple of spaces. We’ll start in a few minutes if you want to get yourselves a drink. There’s a special offer on cocktails tonight.’
He gives a knowing look towards the barman and we thank him, slotting ourselves in the only gap available. The bar is bustling with chatter, and the pub smells like a potion of woodsmoke, beer and coffee. Even if a pub only makes one coffee a day, the smell latches onto the walls, adding a certain level of sophistication that you don’t get in a nightclub. The type that says: we also serve Yorkshire puddings.
‘Okay,’ Tanya turns to me, ‘what shall we have?’
‘Are we going to sit next to each other?’
‘Oh no.’ Tanya pulls a face. ‘If we do, we’ll have to date the same guy one after the other. You’ll put me off.’
I laugh. She has a point. Also, Tanya is easily the most beautiful person in the room. The last thing I need is to be the afterthought of each date as they move from her to me.
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘No point sharing a bottle of wine, then.’
‘Unless we can split a bottle between two wine glasses?’
I look around the room. It’s a good turnout, and some of the men here are actually quite attractive.
‘Sure,’ I say.
Tanya leans over the bar to get the barman’s attention and I run my fingers through my hair. I haven’t had a proper boyfriend since Tyler – not that I’m really sure he was ever my boyfriend in the first place. He was more like a guy I dated for six months, until he found someone better at a club while I was at the bar getting us some drinks. The cold realisation that our weekends spent holding hands down the street, sharing dinner or rolling around in bed together meant a lot more to me than they ever did to him hit me like a bucket of water to the face. The whole thing knocked my confidence in a way I hadn’t expected. It wasn’t that I felt like crawling into a hole and never letting any man see me again because I was so hideously unattractive, more a solemn acceptance. Like, fine. I’m not attractive. Guys don’t fancy me, they’re always looking for the girls who are naturally beautiful, confident and sexy. So, I’ll stop bothering. I’ll focus on myself instead. I’ll go full ‘me’. I’ll wear the bright clothes and the baggy dresses, and I’ll throw every pair of heels I hate into the bin, even though I used to stuff my feet into them because that’s what everyone else was doing. It’s like I went into full self-defence mode. Like, I don’t care if nobody fancies me becauseI don’twantanyone to fancy me. It was easier to focus on myself and hide behind this magnificent steel wall than put myself out there again.
Don’t get me wrong – I’ve had the odd date, snogged strangers on a dance floor and spent evenings flicking through Hinge with Tanya and Penny, but that’s as far as it has ever gone. I never see anyone more than twice; that’s quite enough for me.
Except, since I met American Boy, I’m not sure if itisenough. I felt attractive and empowered talking to him even though I was being my full, weird self in my bat costume. It was something I hadn’t expected to feel. I’d given up searching for that feeling because I’d convinced myself that I didn’t want it anyway. But with him, it felt quite nice. Like someone had flicked a switch inside me.
Tanya puts a glass in front of me and starts to glug the white wine into it. Once it’s teetering over the lip of the glass, she stops and I take a quick sip.
‘Okay,’ Tanya says. ‘Let’s sit at opposite ends. I’ll sit in that corner,’ she points with her wine glass, ‘you go over there.’
I nod. ‘Deal. And if it’s all going terribly?’
‘Then we’ll have a great story to tell Penny later, and remember, Scottish accents!’
Tanya winks at me as the man with the clipboard begins to shepherd everyone into seats. He’s perhaps in his fifties, with olive skin and small, kind eyes that crinkle at the corners.
‘Okay, everyone. I’m Remy and I’ll be your host tonight,’ he says. ‘Ladies, if you take a seat and the gents will rotate. You have two minutes to make a good impression, and whenyou hear the bell you must move on. Ready? Take your seats, gents.’
