Chapter 10
There’s no gift half hidden behind Jordan’s back when I meet him outside The Midland Hotel for our second date, just him standing on the pavement, looking immaculate in a black pea coat and the darkest indigo jeans, his smile widening with each step I take towards him.
Jordan’s been in charge of our second date destination, and he was never going to get any complaints from me when he suggested we meet for drinks in the hotel’s swanky champagne bar.
It’s funny, I’ve walked past the imposing stone front of the hotel hundreds of times, I’ve smiled at the concierges waiting outside the oak doors in their stiff coattails and I’ve hung around to watch whenever a bridal party has made its way in, but I’ve never stepped foot inside.
I’m glad I’ve the chance tonight, and that Jordan’s the kind of person that would choose somewhere as nice as this.
‘You look amazing,’ Jordan says by way of greeting. The amazed expression on his face makes me blush, but it’s good to know the satin cream slip dress I’ve got on under an open oversized tan coat paired with camel-coloured suede boots hits the mark.
‘So do you,’ I say and laugh when I realise we’re both standing there beaming at each other. ‘Shall we go in, then?’
Before the concierge has time to get to it, Jordan swings open the wooden door for me, and I step through.
He makes a joke of Jordan taking his job off him, and Jordan laughs a deep, straight from the belly laugh, that makes some of the people milling around in the grand art deco reception turn to look.
A few women in particular follow Jordan with their eyes as we cross the floor to the bar at the back.
‘Here, take a seat, and I’ll be right back.’
I choose a tiny booth hidden in a corner with a lit candle on it and take off my coat.
It’s a little cold, but I don’t want to cover my dress all night, not when I bought it because it makes me feel like someone who is an expert in flirting on second dates.
This past year, I might have become adept at reading first dates, at picking up on the points of the night that tell me if it’s going to work or, more likely, is going nowhere, but I’m nowhere near as experienced in second dates.
I know enough, however, to appreciate that this one has started better than any I’ve had in a very long time.
‘Listen, there’s a chance there’s going to be a bit of a mix-up tonight,’ Jordan tells me when he gets to the table with our glasses.
‘The barman’s just mistaken me for someone who was in earlier dropping off an engagement ring to put it in the bottom of a glass of champagne.
I’ve explained to him that we’re only on our second date, but apparently this other guy does look very much like me.
So, if a glass comes your way we’ve not ordered, be careful before you swallow. ’
I nod, keeping my face serious. ‘I promise I will be very careful before anything crosses these lips,’ I say and feel a little thrill when he colours.
OK, maybe I can do second date flirting.
Bad, cringeworthy, did I really just say that flirting, but flirting none the less.
‘That’s exciting for the actual couple, although I’ve got to say I don’t quite get how a proposal like that works. ’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, how does the barman know when to come over for a start, and how does the boyfriend know in advance if it’s the right night for it?
What if the girlfriend has had a really shitty day at work and is just in the mood to have a good moan?
Or what if the barman comes over just as she’s sharing some really bad news or telling him she just found out yet another of her friends is getting divorced and she doesn’t know how she feels about marriage anymore?
The whole pre-planned idea seems risky to me. ’
‘Ah, you see, that’s where you’re wrong.
It’s all been thought through. There are even signals and a code song.
The first thing the barman asked me, before he realised I was the wrong person, was if I’d thought about what track I wanted.
Apparently, when the time is right, the guy is going to take off his jacket.
The barman, when he notices, is going to play the song to tell the guy he’s about to bring the champagne with the ring in it over, so he can prepare himself. It’s all sorted.’
‘OK,’ I concede. ‘Sounds like they’ve got it covered. This does mean our date is ruined, though.’ I make a point of breathing out a long sigh of disappointment.
Jordan’s eyes widen in surprise. ‘Why?’
‘Now, I’m going to be intensely watching every couple in here and wondering if every song that comes on is the code song. I’ll barely be able to pay you any attention.’
He nods and tries to keep his own face as serious as mine is, but his shining eyes betray him. ‘Same. I’m going to be fixated on the door now, looking out for my doppelganger in a code coat.’
‘Ah well,’ I say, shrugging and finding it hard not to smile.
‘Who needs conversation on a second date anyway?’ He gives in on the act then and smiles in a way that makes the most of his very fine cheekbones and makes his eyes sparkle in the low light of our corner of the bar. Amused Jordan is pretty god damn sexy, I decide.
We spend the next hour drinking champagne, people watching and laughing at every song that comes on.
Instead of the getting-to-know-you conversations I’d expected tonight, we create backstories for the couple and what each song played might mean for them.
Take That’s ‘Relight My Fire’ becomes a symbol of his troubles in the bedroom department before he met the one woman who could arouse him and who he fell madly in love with.
Rhianna’s ‘Umbrella’ speaks to them because they met at a bus stop one day when it was raining, and he offered her his brolly.
He stood in the rain as she was protected, and every day since they have stood together at that bus stop and fallen in love.
When Ed Sheeran’s ‘Perfect’ comes on just after an admittedly slightly ill-matched couple next to us have sat down and taken off their coats, Jordan grips my arm, making me slosh my drink over the table.
We sit in silence, leaning our bodies towards them, waiting for it to happen until the man says, ‘Do you want a drink then, Mum?’ at which point we collapse into a fit of giggles.
In a way, it’s not getting to know him that makes me like him so much.
We could have gone over the usual – jobs, family, places we’ve visited – but that wouldn’t have told me half as much as just being with him has.
Not only is he nice, Jordan’s fun. Handsome, nice and fun is definitely a combination I can get onboard with.
‘What shall we do?’ he asks, once we’ve recovered from the laughing and have finished our drinks. ‘Do you want another, or shall we go for a walk?’
‘I’d like a walk,’ I say.
‘Me too. But only if you’re happy to accept that once we leave, we’ll have to go through the rest of our lives without finding out who got the champagne with the ring in it.’
I pretend to think it over. ‘I can live with that,’ I say, drinking the rest of my champagne and accepting the hand Jordan holds out to help me out of the booth.
Outside it’s cold, the kind of night where the wind seems to build up on street corners and behind buildings, gathering its strength before it releases itself in an almighty blast. I link arms with Jordan as we walk down the hotel steps, grateful for his warmth.
‘I love this part of the city,’ he says, his voice softer now we’re out of the bar and it’s just the two of us.
‘I used to come to the library every other weekend with my dad. I hated it at the time, wasn’t much of a reader, but now I think how lucky I was, what an incredible building I got to spend my time in. ’
He’s not wrong. Central Library is one of my favourite buildings, the white, stone circular structure and pillars more similar to an ancient Greek monument than any council library I’ve ever been in.
‘Did you come here as a kid?’ he asks.
‘No, not really. My mum loathes coming into the city centre and Dad wasn’t around much at the weekend to take me. He played a lot of sport and wasn’t a big fan of family trips out anyway.’
‘I’m sorry. Is he not with you anymore?’
‘Oh no, I didn’t mean that. God, sorry,’ I say, hearing how it sounded. ‘He is. He lives near Preston with his wife. I guess I kind of speak about him like that, have done since Mum and him divorced. They don’t get on at all now, and I don’t see much of him, in truth.’
We haven’t been walking for more than a few minutes, but it suddenly feels like we’ve come a long way from the light and frothy fun we were having back in the bar.
I’d like to get back to it. I’m wracking my brain for some sort of joke when the heavens open, and all I can focus on is the freezing rain soaking us.
Jordan unlinks himself from me and grabs my hand, drawing me towards the side of the building where the stone juts out above our heads slightly, offering some shelter.
‘Shit, that’s cold,’ I say.
‘Yeah, I’m kind of wishing I never mentioned leaving the bar.’
‘Me too.’ I turn away from him to look at the rain that is falling in sheets in front of us, but when I turn back to Jordan, I see his attention is directed elsewhere.
I follow his gaze down to my chest.
‘Oh my God.’
In the downpour, my satin dress has become almost completely transparent and is clinging to my boobs.
My nipples are on clear display. As quickly as I can, I wrap my coat around me, but I can’t do anything about the eyeful Jordan’s just got.
I wait for the comment that’s going to come, the comment he has to make, because he’s just seen my boobs and there’s no moving the conversation away from that.
I’m gearing up for anything ranging from nice tits to Jesus, Lizzie, you could take my eye out with one of them, but he goes for a different option.
‘I didn’t see a thing.’
I burst out laughing at the blatant lie. ‘I’m certain you did.’
‘Nope, nothing.’
‘Yes, you did, and I can only apologise,’ I say, but laughing about it has definitely taken the sting out of my mortification.
‘No need to apologise. You do know you’re gorgeous, don’t you?’
I laugh again. ‘That’s not how I’d describe myself. I’d probably go for complete prat or utter idiot for wearing a dress like this in winter.’
‘You are. You’re beautiful.’ His voice is suddenly soft, barely above a whisper. He steps forward to wrap his arms around me and leans his face down towards mine.
I’m cold and embarrassed and not sure flashing Jordan is the lead up to our first kiss I wanted, but I push all that down.
Everything has become still. The only sound is the rain falling around us.
His arms hold me tightly, and his brown eyes look almost black with only the streetlights to see by.
This moment has appeared, this slow-motion-end-of-the-romantic-film moment, and as someone who goes through life looking for these moments, I know how rare they are, how you should never let them pass.
I stand on my tiptoes and tilt my head until my lips meet his.