. . . a bar crawl
If there was one thing Eléa was right about, it was that the bar crawl certainly is teeming with solo travellers.
They welcome you in with open arms and ask you about your trip, before boring you with the ever-similar tales of their gap year.
I’m aware I’m a hypocrite – I’m travelling too – but when I do it, it doesn’t seem quite as pretentious.
Probably because I don’t talk about the French Riviera like I founded the place myself.
‘Can I borrow her for a second?’ Noah asks, squeezing my elbow lightly.
The man in front of me nods reluctantly as I smile and scurry off with a sigh of relief.
‘You looked miserable,’ Noah says the minute we’re away.
‘I was. Thank you.’ We clink our steins and take a swig.
When Noah mentioned free drinks, he neglected to mention that most places restrict these to beer and/or wine.
And in this bar in particular, it’s only beer.
Three different varieties of gross-tasting hops.
I was going to abstain completely and just wait until bar four, but then gap-year guy started on yet another sordid summer tale and I had no choice.
There was no way I was getting through his endless tirade of stories sober.
‘That bad, huh?’ he asks.
My face clouds over again. ‘Somehow worse than you’re imagining.’
‘From the look on your face, my imagination was already catatonic. I got some great pictures, though!’
Despite the polarising views my column seems to have evoked, it has certainly resonated with a fair few people.
My followers have shot up since the release, with a new cohort every day – it’s the most action I’ve had since the dating-rant incident.
Except this time is different. This time they’re stalking.
They find my page from the column and want to know more.
I’m getting likes on Instagram posts from three years ago – reshares of videos I don’t even remember making.
Noah pointed out that it’s because I don’t have enough new stuff – the better I document this journey, the less they’ll trawl through the weeds.
He’s right, I know, but I’m not the most consistent person and bar an aesthetic coffee pic from Brussels and a few random stories, I haven’t shared much at all.
I stare down at his phone screen as he proudly scrolls through photos of me silently listening to gap-year guy. I take in my pursed lips, folded arms and dead eyes. Why the guy saw it all and kept speaking, I’ll never know.
‘My resting bitch face is even worse than I thought,’ I say.
‘It’s very pouty. Kinda sexy. Your fans will love it.’
I give him a warning look. ‘Noah. The rules.’
‘What, I can’t call my friend sexy?’ he asks. ‘Even if it’s objectively true?’
I drop my eyes, hiding my fluster, and nod to his empty stein. ‘You’ve had too much to drink,’ I say.
‘And you, my dear, have not had enough. Two more, please, sir,’ he says, catching the bartender’s eye.
We knock our steins together once they arrive, followed by a large, disgusting gulp.
‘How’s it going with El?’ I ask, desperate to change the subject. ‘Did you try initiating deep conversation, like I suggested?’
His face is pained as he takes another swig. ‘Lovely girl.’
‘But?’
‘Very firmly not single.’
‘Ouch,’ I sigh.
‘It’s fine.’ He shrugs. ‘El’s great regardless and I’ve got her on side – she’s willing to help you out tonight.’
Like clockwork El appears behind us, precariously balancing a tray of three new beers and three J?gerbombs. She is smiley as ever, her golden hair flopping behind her as she spots our full glasses and encourages us to down them instantly. Noah, of course, does.
‘Have you told her yet?’ El asks, smile directed right at him.
He shakes his head, which makes her grin more as she stares back at me.
‘Noah was showing me your articles – they’re really good!
And I have a friend that I think you would get along with.
He’s travelling too and just went through a break-up, and I keep telling him he needs to get back out there.
’ She stops to check her phone quickly, eyes sparkling with joy.
‘He’s joining us at the next bar and is really excited to meet you! ’
‘You’ve already told him?’ I ask, feeling my heart spike.
I have so many questions in what feels like no time. What has she said? What does he know? And, most importantly, why does Noah keep exposing my column to everyone he meets? I look back to him and he shrugs, eyes semi-apologetic.
‘You looked so bored with that guy – we thought we’d move fast. You don’t really have time to waste.’
I don’t need his reminders. I’ve got seventy-three dates left. I have been keeping count.
‘How do you know we’ll get along?’ I ask.
‘He’s so sweet! He could get along with anyone,’ Eléa says. ‘Sam’s American and very cute. Real . . . how do you say it? Real boyfriend material.’
‘I taught her that one,’ Noah says boastfully.
The pair meet eyes and grin proudly, while I forcefully reject the notion of being their third wheel.
‘You don’t have to date him if you don’t like him,’ Noah says. ‘Just get to know him tonight and see what happens.’
‘Oh. I told him this was a date,’ Eléa says, confused.
I look to her in panic, which only perplexes her more.
‘I thought that’s what you were doing? Loads of dates? I was adding to your list.’ She shrugs nonchalantly.
‘It is, don’t worry,’ Noah reassures her before looking back to me. His face is racked with guilt. ‘It’ll be fine – and so good for the column! Plus, who knows? You might actually have a good time.’
He wriggles his eyebrows, an act that prompts El to giggle as the two of them lock eyes again. For someone with a partner, her eyes are awfully sparkly and they’re luring Noah in closer with every lingering stare.
‘Shall we do these shots, then?’ I ask, breaking their locked gazes.
The pair snap back to me.
‘I thought you hated shots,’ Noah says.
I lie. ‘I’m over that.’
The shot will probably make meeting Sam just that little bit easier. Plus, the way El and Noah are staring at each other screams trouble. I’ll do anything to put a stop to it before Noah breaks his own heart. We reach for the glasses.
‘What’s cheers in German?’ Noah asks.
‘Prost,’ I reply.
Everyone around me has been saying it all night.
‘Prost!’ all three of us say as we throw the drinks back.
I follow it up with more beer and can’t tell which goes down worse, but I keep chugging anyway. I keep chugging all the way to the next bar.