. . . an interruption
‘I’m punching.’
‘What?’ I ask.
‘Your profile was gorgeous, but seeing you in person? I’m definitely punching,’ he says.
I smile back meekly. He seems so sweet and he’s definitely easy on the eye, but my mind is all over the place.
It’s ridiculous. I haven’t spoken to Noah in two months, but his birthday rolls around and suddenly nothing else sticks in my mind.
This should be my big day – we’re on date number eighty.
But all I can think about is how his surprise party went three days ago.
‘You’re right, you’re a troll,’ I say jokingly, locking back into my date.
His eyes light up with warmth, laughter filling the air as he twirls me once again.
I switched things up for this date, telling him where we would go, because I wanted to make sure number eighty went out with a bang. After copious amounts of research, I tracked down a rooftop tango lesson. We’ve been at it for forty minutes and I’ve only stepped on his feet twice.
The instructor yells out: ‘And now a dip!’
The entire crowd cheers women dropping one by one in the arms of their partners. I feel his hand on my back as he dips me masterfully. He’s a real catch; if only I remembered his name.
‘So, are we still at the stage where I pretend I haven’t stalked you online?’ he asks, pulling me back up to stand.
‘Oh, really? You like the column?’ I fall back into our two-step.
The longer I’ve gone about this, the more I’ve decided that my column is actually pretty cool.
I shouldn’t try to downplay it or be ashamed – I’ve accomplished a near impossible feat with a silly timeframe and got paid for it.
Of course, it won’t be for everyone, but no one’s for everyone and I should have never tried to be.
‘You’re a really great writer,’ he replies.
‘Thank you,’ I say.
I’m proud of what I’ve done this trip, and so is Analeise. In fact, she’s asked for a meeting when I get back to ‘figure out what the New Traveller does with me next’.
The class eventually winds to a close and the instructor invites us all to stay for drinks. I wish I could – the virgin sangria looks exceptionally fruity – but I have places to be, so I give my polite goodbyes.
I speed walk through the streets, my dress riding up as I do, but I don’t let it slow me down. My sisters sent me a ticket to Parc Guell in anticipation of my grand finale. It came with a note.
Congrats on your 80th date, Squeak. Enjoy your strut on us xx
It’s for today at five and, according to what I’ve read online, they’re pretty strict about arriving at your given time. It’s currently 4.53, so I’m hoping their grace period extends to at least fifteen minutes.
I give a sharp intake of breath as I arrive at the entrance and take it in, in all its grand, sweeping beauty.
I think of every time my sisters and I sat in front of the TV, singing along and watching as the Cheetah Girls pranced through this exact park.
How we’d memorise the choreography, fight over who got to be Galleria, and make plans to go back to Barcelona together one day.
The part by the steps of Park Guell was always my favourite as I loved the way the mosaics stood out against the palm trees.
Though they’re not here today, it feels like there is a part of them with me, considering they bought me the ticket.
I take my first selfie at the entrance, sending it through to them to an immediate slew of excited reactions.
SARA: Have fun, chick xx
I smile at her message.
ME: I’ll do my best, missing you though.
PAIGE: You’ve only got 10 days left, Squeak! Put your phone down and enjoy!
I take her advice, tucking it into my bumbag and starting to wander. I whack my headphones on and listen to the soundtrack of The Cheetah Girls 2 as I amble across the beautifully stone-lined bridge.
Thirty minutes pass and I’m so deep into the music and the views that I don’t notice the man behind me. It takes him creeping closer, reaching for my shoulder and tapping me twice before I jolt back to life and turn around to face him.
My skin grows cold, as does my blood as I meet his face, and all of a sudden everything around me goes mute. Blood rushes in my ears and the park starts to spin.
After two months, there he is.
Noah Davidson.