Chapter 13 #3
‘So, whatever you did, whether you got yourself stuck in a climbing frame or not, there was what was true and what wasn’t,’ he continues. ‘He was a good guy or he wasn’t. And if getting stuck in a kids’ play area was enough to put him off, then he wasn’t a good guy. So don’t beat yourself up.’
Hmm. That’s interesting, because in the years that have passed since that happened, I have always felt certain that I put him off, that it could have been a great date, but I drove him away.
I never stopped to think that maybe doing something a bit silly isn’t the end of the world, that he could have stayed, seen where things went…
‘Do you always look at life like it’s a video game?’ I ask.
‘Do you always look at life like it needs a risk assessment?’ he replies.
‘Occupational hazard,’ I say with a shrug. ‘What do you think your dating bad habit is?’
‘Maybe… that I can be too honest,’ he replies.
‘That’s what people say when they want to make a flaw sound noble…’
‘No, I mean I can be blunt,’ he clarifies. ‘Not everyone wants that. What about you?’
‘I overthink.’
He fakes a gasp, pretending he’s surprised.
‘I did gather that, from your story,’ he says. ‘Have you tried worrying less?’
It’s my turn to be sarcastic.
‘No, you know what, I’d never thought of that, and no one has ever said that to me before – thank you. Thank you so much!’
The starters arrive – tuna tartare for Nico, burrata with tomatoes for me. We pause our little experiment to tuck into our food. Mine is absurdly good – creamy, fresh and with a little sharpness from the olive oil and salt. Whatever they’re asking for this dish, it isn’t too much, it’s worth it.
‘I have dating horror stories too, you know,’ he says eventually. ‘A girl I dated once brought an ex to our third date.’
My eyebrows shoot up.
‘Really?’
‘At first I thought she was trying to show him that she’d moved on – I flattered myself, thinking she was showing me off…’
‘But…?’
‘But that wasn’t it at all – she was trying to recruit me.’
‘Recruit you?’
‘For, er, the bedroom,’ he confesses.
‘Oh, that is so awkward – I’d sooner fall through a kids’ castle any day,’ I reply.
‘Yeah, it was awkward… They had a nice bedroom though.’
He smiles in a way that lets me know he’s joking.
When our main courses finally arrive, I fall in love with my lobster linguini. It’s rich – which it ought to be, it costs enough – with the freshest tomato sauce I’ve ever tasted.
Nico’s sea bass looks perfect, crisp-skinned, delicate… except…
‘You had sea bass last night,’ I point out.
He shrugs.
‘I like it. What’s the problem?’
‘Well… I mean… there’s no problem,’ I reply, trying to find the words to explain myself. ‘But for someone who talks about being spontaneous and adventurous, it seems kind of weird, to have the same thing again. That’s all.’
‘Some feedback for you, Sammie. You need to worry less about what other people are doing,’ he says. ‘Leave people be, let them enjoy the things they enjoy, and in the process you might stop worrying about what people think of you.’
I frown.
‘I was just saying, I thought you’d be into trying new things,’ I reply.
‘Ah, and there was me just trying to have a good time,’ he says.
And now I’m fuming at him again. Why does he have to be such an arse? Obviously I didn’t mean anything by it – it was just an observation.
Nico is more insightful than I expected him to be… and more guarded than I realised.
He’s funny, when he wants to be, but also so deeply annoying.
Over the course of one structurally date-shaped meal, we’ve highlighted a bunch of differences between us.
I like plans, he likes options. I think stability is underrated, he thinks too much certainty makes people boring.
I believe problems should be anticipated and managed while he sounds like he almost gets some sort of weird kick out of things going wrong.
Except this holiday, of course.
When the bill arrives, Mum and Hank turn up with it.
‘Sort that with my card, will you, Nico?’ Hank prompts him.
I look at him. Does he really use his dad’s card? That’s a bit of an ick…
Mum looks suitably impressed by it all. Beyond the food, which was unreal, I can’t say that I feel the same way.
We all leave the restaurant together and step back into the warm afternoon light. Hank and Mum walk ahead almost immediately, her hand looped through his arm. They look like a couple – I can’t believe how quickly things are moving between them.
Nico and I fall into step behind them.
‘Well,’ I say. ‘Hopefully their date went better than ours.’
‘Hopefully,’ he replies. ‘I doubt it could have gone worse.’
That said, hopefully it didn’t go too well either, because we can’t go on like this, Mum living it up with Hank, while I’m saddled babysitting his man-child of a son.
Yes, he can be fun, charming in bursts, objectively easy on the eye, but I’m not a babysitter.
I mean, I’m sure he feels the same way, like I’m some sort of dull granny he’s having to take care of.
The end of this trip can’t come soon enough. And I’m trying not to think about what comes after that…