Chapter 5 NORA
NORA
I SHOULD NEVER HAVE left my house tonight.
It was comfortable. Warm. Lo-fi beats were playing.
I had just reached the plot twist in my current read – which literally made my jaw drop – and even better, I was in my matching silk pyjama set with a cup of sencha beside me.
Honestly, I couldn’t have asked for a better evening, and yet here I am, sitting across the table from an arrogant, obnoxious man who has been staring more at my chest than my face for the past hour.
‘Hello?’ the man says, leaning over and prodding my arm with his finger so hard that it kind of hurts.
He has dark eyes and rumpled clothes, as if he picked up whatever shirt was closest to him on his way out the door.
I think the photos I saw on this guy’s profile were from a few years ago because he appears to be older than I’d originally thought.
He blinks at me expectantly, an annoying half-smirk twisting his lips. He already seemed more than tipsy when we arrived and has easily drunk another four drinks since we sat down. Our food hasn’t even arrived yet.
‘Sorry, what did you say?’
‘I said the next round is on you,’ he grins, offering me an exaggerated wink. When I fail to reply, he gestures to his drink. ‘I got the last two rounds.’
My mouth opens then closes. ‘Uh … I haven’t had any of them.’
‘Well, they were for you.’
I eye the empty schooners parked in front of him. ‘Right … I wasn’t aware.’ Since I specifically mentioned I don’t like the taste of beer and he proceeded to order two after that.
This is the worst date I’ve ever been on.
Not only was he late, he arrived semi-drunk and spent the entire first half of the date talking about himself, sparing only a single comment about the ‘low-cut’ top I’m wearing.
It’s just a normal t-shirt, but my chest makes even the most basic top look like I’m trying to show off the size of my breasts.
Unfortunately, this has been an issue for me ever since my growth spurt in puberty, hence why I often wear baggy tees and jumpers two sizes too big for me, but I didn’t feel either of those options were appropriate for a date.
I hate this. Online dating is not for the weak and feeble, and I don’t have the resilience or the strength for it.
I never wanted to try it, but I’m sick of the patronising looks and comments I get from my family when they probe about my love life.
Or lack thereof. My editor’s comments about my sex scenes not feeling realistic enough are cemented in my brain.
I still remember reading that email with a sinking sensation in my gut.
The world of romance is beginning to be very disheartening in real life.
The only dating experiences I have include an online relationship I had once and then that awkward one-month relationship a friend of mine set up, which I’d rather not think about.
The online relationship was a confusing time.
His name was James and he made me feel seen and heard for the first time in my life.
He was someone who knew who I was in the online world – had even read my writing – and knew about my personal life, too.
He was the first person to know the real me, inside and out, and I sort of fell for him. As much as you can over a screen.
After a few attempted meet-ups where he either didn’t show or he cancelled at the very last minute, I decided this wasn’t for me.
I began questioning whether he was even real and then began panicking about all the information I had stupidly told him.
The relationship started when I was young and naive.
We must have spoken every day for about four years or so.
When I finally cut him off, it felt like a break-up.
My first heartbreak. It inspired one of my bestselling novels.
That’s another thing my family loves to complain about.
Me writing my ‘silly little romance novels’.
Pain splinters up my cheek and I instantly loosen my jaw.
Clenching has become a bad habit I’ve formed when I let my mind get lost in all the thoughts about how much of a disappointment I apparently am.
Surreptitiously, I touch my fingers to my cheek, as if that will help relieve the slight ache there.
The comments from my editor led me to re-downloading one of the dating apps and when …
John? Jake? Jack? Shit – I’ve totally blanked on what his name is – asked me out for a drink, I forced myself to type out ‘yes’ and dragged myself out of my comfy bed.
Now, I realise what a huge mistake that was, and as always, I should have listened to my gut.
I’m trying to be more adventurous, but it’s hard to stay positive when you take a risk and it doesn’t play out the way you had hoped.
‘What’s your passcode?’ he asks.
My chin jerks up in surprise when my eyes land on my phone in his hand. He gestures to it.
‘What do you need it for?’ I question in confusion.
‘To order more drinks?’ he raises a brow, beginning to look frustrated with me.
Once again, I’m left with no words. Quietly, I reach for my phone and type the passcode in, and more than a little reluctantly, hover the phone over the QR code.
‘You got Apple Pay?’ he asks, plucking it from my hand and leaning back in his chair.
I stare in shock as he orders himself two more beers, and my molars grind together when he flicks the screen in front of my face and a moment later, I hear the chime of the transaction processing as the Face ID registers.
He places my phone down and slides it across to me.
I manage to catch it before it careens off the table.
His eyes drop to my chest once more and he leans his forearms on the table. ‘After these next drinks, wanna get out of here?’
My cheeks grow warm. ‘We haven’t eaten yet.’
‘I’m not hungry.’
My brows draw together. ‘But we ordered food?’
‘I didn’t order food.’
If I thought this date was going badly before, I don’t even know how to describe it now. I’ve never felt so uncomfortable in my life.
‘I’m going to go to the bathroom,’ I mutter, pushing my chair back so aggressively, it scrapes loudly against the cement floor and hits the chair behind me.
Sweat dots my forehead – a nervous response of mine – and I swerve around the table, hastily heading towards the bathroom. The female toilet is occupied, so I move towards the unisex one.
It’s loud here, with remixes of pop music blaring from the speakers, combined with the clinking of glasses behind the bar.
It’s more of a bar than a restaurant, although bowls of chips and parmigianas are being served all around us, the smell of the food making my stomach grumble.
Posters for student nights and live gigs are taped to the walls, and a few students I recognise from campus are huddled in groups around high tables.
We’re right in the heart of the Campus Common Area.
This is the only place on campus that’s open until the early hours of the morning.
I swing the bathroom door shut behind me and it hits something hard, springing back open. I turn, seeing … whatever his name is … follow me inside. I stumble back in surprise, almost tripping over my own feet.
‘What are you doing?’ I exclaim.
‘Thought it might be nice to have some privacy.’
‘What?’ I half-laugh, half-choke, incredulous. ‘I’m going to the bathroom and I don’t feel comfortable with you following me in here.’
‘Oh come on,’ he rolls his eyes, running his tongue across his bottom lip. ‘Wearing a top like that, and agreeing to come out on such short notice? You’re practically begging me to fuck you.’
My heart plummets to my stomach and my throat dries out completely as I gape at him, unable to process the audacity of this man. Just when I think things can’t get worse.
‘Please leave,’ I say curtly, raising my chin and forcing my gaze to meet his, hoping I appear a lot less scared than I am.
I thought this guy was a bit of an ass, but probably harmless, though now I’m starting to think I could have gotten that wrong.
Under the fluorescent lighting, he definitely looks much older than what the app said he was.
‘Or what?’ He smiles, but it isn’t a nice smile. It’s cruel, and honestly, intimidating.
He approaches me quickly, pressing me back against the sink. I let out a cry of surprise, and he grips my arm tight enough to bruise.
Yanking my arm roughly from his, I somehow manage to push him off balance enough to swerve around him and practically fall out the door.
I slam straight into a hard chest and fly backwards.
Two hands reach out and steady me, somehow stopping me from falling.
My heart is racing as I meet a familiar pair of gorgeous emerald eyes.
My eyes quickly roam his tanned, lightly freckled face and dirty blond hair.
Well, brown hair that’s been streaked with sunlight.
He has nice hair. Dishevelled in a hot way.
‘Nora?’ Zayden says, who more often than not has a just-rolledout-of-bed look while somehow also seeming like he could have just come from a magazine photoshoot.
I’m immediately aware that his hands are still on my arms as he assesses me.
My cheeks heat at the memory of the last time I saw him. ‘Are you all right?’
‘You bitch!’ a voice snarls from behind me as the door bangs open and Jim? Jeffrey? Jeremy? barges through the door.
Zayden straightens immediately, moving partly in front of me.
‘What’s going on here?’ he asks, eyes darting between the two of us. Although I don’t know Zayden that well, having him here makes me feel safer than I did a few moments ago.
‘You know her?’ my date asks with a huff, his upper lip curling.
‘I do,’ Zayden replies, voice cold as his jaw ticks.
‘She’s a fucking tease.’
‘I think it’s best if you leave.’