Page 71 of A Lot to Unpack
As I leave the office, I can feel my heart beating, knocking against my ribs, almost like it’s trying to say to me: Did you hear that, Liberty? He called it a date. We have a date!
He did, didn’t he? My brain heard it as well as my heart, so I know I’m not imagining things.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to pick up where we left off, but the thought of having a whole date first, before we get to give that kiss another go, sounds like it’s going to be one big, long tease. A delicious kind of torture. I’m going to need a day in the spa to try to keep calm.
Even if he doesn’t plan as much stuff for tonight as he did last night, honestly, finally getting to kiss him will make it worth it, and I’m not going to let anything get in the way this time.
Hopefully…
28
Tonight feels so different to last night. Last night I was nervous – tonight I’m petrified.
I guess it’s because last night I didn’t know what was happening, whether I was doing it for business or pleasure, but tonight it’s clear. It’s a date – a date where we are going to kiss. I just wonder how long it will take for one of us to cave, or if we’ll both wait for whatever perfect moment Jordan will have no doubt carved out for us.
Standing in front of my hotel room mirror, I double check my eye makeup, smooth down my dress, and spritz on more perfume, because I’m convinced it’s worn off since I applied it fifteen minutes ago. Then I stare at myself, giving myself a long, hard look, and I don’t want to be all soppy and daft but, honestly, I would probably cry if I didn’t think it might ruin my makeup, because the reflection smiling back at me isn’t the usual one; it’s a girl with hope and optimism, not the sad sack who honestly feared every man would hurt her, or disappoint her, or ultimately cheat on her. I really do feel good about this one and it’s been so, so long since I felt that way. It’s kind of nice.
I’m scared, but in a good way. I’m not worried I’m going to mess it up, or that he’s going to be nipping to the lav to AirDrop snaps of his dick to everyone in the hotel. It’s that nervous excitement as you start to fantasise about what the rest of your life might look like with someone, usually when you first get together, and the butterflies in your stomach can’t stay still.
I grab my bag and head down to the hotel bar. I love that we haven’t just been getting on in person, but that we had that first digital spark too – not that it was flirty, but it’s like we were drawn to each other. Plus, we got stuck in a lift together, and whenever that happens to a couple in the movies that shit is as good as locked in for life. Nothing says happy ever after like a meet-cute in a broken-down lift.
The bar is dimly lit, as always, which really does reassure me that Jordan didn’t see me that night, when I was lovingly observing (that sounds so much nicer than stalking) him and Alison. I do a casual scan of the room, looking to see if I’m the first one here – I am ten minutes early – but there’s no sign of him.
‘Liberty.’ A voice snaps me from my thoughts.
‘Pete,’ I reply. ‘Hello – did you get the app sorted?’
I’m surprised to see him but it makes sense that we would all be staying in the same hotel.
‘Just about,’ he replies. ‘Honestly, I leave London for a couple of days and it’s chaos. At least it’s a working trip, so we could use Matcher US HQ to sort it.’
‘That’s good,’ I reply. ‘Jordan will be pleased then?’
‘Yeah, he’s got a real spring in his step today for some reason,’ Pete says with a shrug.
I think I know why…
‘That’s great,’ I say.
‘So, what can I get you to drink?’ he asks me.
‘Erm…’
‘And do you want me to call you Liberty or NewGirl?’ he adds.
Wait – what? Surely not… This is just me, trying to find something to worry about, looking for problems where there aren’t any because I’m too scared to move on – as bloody always.
‘Oh, haha, yeah – Liberty is fine,’ I tell him.
That’s what it is. Just me, panicking, imagining the worst-case scenario.
‘Good, because it might be weird, if you called me MrLoveByte all night,’ he says with a chuckle. ‘One of the lads in the office chose the name for me – cringe, I know.’
Fuuuuuuck.
‘You look beautiful, by the way,’ he tells me.
‘I… er… thanks.’
