Page 119 of The Dating Ban
Of course.
I take a shaky breath and launch into it.
“Christa, it’s me. I’m dressed. I look—honestly, I look sort of amazing, but also possibly like I’m going clubbing in 2013, and I’m officially freaking out.”
I start pacing.
“I’m going on an actual date. With Theo. The trousers are at war with my arse, the top is making bold choices with my boobs, and I’ve just realised I have absolutely no idea how to behave like a calm, collected adult woman who goes on dates without saying things like ‘Did you know sloths can hold their breath longer than dolphins?’ in moments of silence.”
I stop in front of the mirror again, trying not to hyperventilate.
“Anyway, if you get this and you hear I've fled the country, you'll know why. I’m wearing the cursed trousers. Please call me back and talk me down.”
I hang up.
Silence.
Well.
No more stalling.
I grab my bag, dab the tiniest bit of sweat from the back of my neck, give the trousers one last tug of decency, and open the door.
Fine. I’m going.
Probably to my doom.
But also, maybe to something wonderful.
And either way—I’ve got lip gloss, a debit card, and emergency chocolate in my bag. That’s enough to survive anything.
Probably.
33
The Green Lamp Conspiracy
Theo
Istand in frontof the mirror, adjusting the collar of my white shirt for the third time. The suit trousers feel slightly too formal for a Saturday night, but the jumper takes the edge off. Hopefully.
I don’t usually dress like this outside of work—not anymore—but tonight’s not just any night. Tonight’sourfirst proper date. No child in the next room, no takeaway on the sofa, no pretending we are just friends.
I reach for the cologne I bought in duty free four years ago and have barely used since. One spray. Then another. I pause. Then a third, for good measure. I cough… maybe it was a bit much.
From the living room comes the clink of plastic cups and the unmistakable sound of Lucy hosting a tea party in full dramatic voice. I follow the noise.
Jasper and Geoff are sitting on the rug like overgrown toddlers, cross-legged and pretending to sip invisible tea.Lucy beams at me from behind a toy teapot, apron tied crookedly over her dress.
“Daddy!” she calls. “You’re just in time. Uncle Jasper’s the dog.”
“I saidI was bringingthe dog,” Jasper grumbles, not moving from his spot.
Geoff squints at me over the rim of a pink cup. “Blimey. Look at you. Someone’s dressed to impress.”
Lucy stares at me intently for a second, her head tilted. “You look nice,” she says, very seriously. Then she wrinkles her nose. “But you smell a bit weird.”
“Thanks?” I say.
