Chapter Sixteen #3
‘I don’t know who either of those gentlemen are but from the way you look like you’ve been licking batteries, I take it that they’re not your type.
’ Gabe was back to being sarcastic, not that Tess really minded.
She knew where she was with the sarcasm.
‘Now, I’m going to say something and you’re going to take offence, but if we can get over that hurdle, then I believe we’ll go on to have a very productive exchange of ideas. ’
‘Oh my God, what? Do I smell?’ Tess tried to surreptitiously take a whiff of her own armpit. ‘Do I have bad breath?’ She held up her hand to her mouth …
‘No! You always smell nice … That is to say, you smell fine. No unpleasant odours.’
‘You could try saying it with a bit more conviction.’ Tess blew into her palm but it was quite hard to tell if you had raging halitosis. Maybe this explained her lack of success in dating, in life …
‘You smell lovely. Fragrant. Like roses and something a little sharper, fruity, possibly blackcurrants, maybe rhubarb,’ Gabe snapped, but Tess was fine with his testy tone now.
‘It is blackcurrants,’ she said, impressed with his olfactory talents.
‘It’s my signature scent. Top notes of rose and blackcurrants.
OK, I smell lovely, that’s something, I guess.
Now you can hit me with a list of all my flaws and failings.
It’s all right, I can take it.’ Which was a lie, but she expected Gabe to prevaricate and pontificate and circle the point so she’d have time to mentally prepare herself.
But he didn’t. He said immediately and very un-gently: ‘I don’t think you know what your type is.’
While she was still reeling from that body blow …
‘Or maybe your type isn’t working for you and you need to date outside your type, which is where I come in.’ Gabe nodded. He looked quite pleased with himself, like he got a thrill from dashing Tess’s romantic dreams on the rocks of reality. ‘I’ll pick some fun dates for you.’
‘Fun?’ How Tess wished that she too could arch an eyebrow and use it to devastating effect. ‘You?’
‘I can do fun. Even the Stoics recognised the value of relaxation and amusement,’ he said with a little smirk like he was winding her up again. ‘No brooding bad boys …’
‘Oh, come on! Not even one?’
Gabe wagged a finger at Tess. ‘I’m cutting you off. I’m going to provide you with an assortment of literary men … do they have to be all men?’
‘Not all men,’ Tess decided. ‘I don’t mind mixing it up a little.’
‘I will definitely be mixing it up,’ Gabe vowed. ‘You seem to have this erroneous idea that all characters that are out of copyright have to be dullards from the eighteenth century but I’m sure I can find some more contemporary candidates.’
That didn’t sound bad. Maybe if Tess hit it off with someone with a more modern sensibility, then she could take him out on loan for the university reunion.
Sean might be there with Wilde and her perfectly photogenic features, but at least Tess wouldn’t have to rock up solo.
Bad enough that when people recounted their glittering careers, she’d have to make it sound like she enjoyed writing about funeral plans and conservatories.
But really, there was only one person that she wanted to take to the reunion. If she walked in with him, then nobody would care that Tess was unfulfilled, both personally and professionally.
‘If I agree to this then I still want a date with Darcy,’ she said.
‘Agreed,’ Gabe said quickly. Too quickly, which made Tess suspicious all over again.
‘Why are you even doing this?’ she asked. ‘You’re not exactly on board with The Love Library. I thought you wanted to take your philosophers out on a speaking tour. Hook Bill Gates up with Bertrand Russell. The dudes at Apple with Aristotle. Mark Zuckerberg with … with um …’
‘Zarathustra? These philosopher jokes, they’re adorable.
’ Gabe gave her another one of those giddy-making smiles, which made Tess wonder what he’d be like on a date.
A proper, fun, flirty date. ‘I’m doing this because, much as it pains me to admit it, The Love Library is the more workable idea.
Plus, it would make Ella happy when she’s currently sleep-deprived and miserable.
And after a couple of dating mishaps, I owe you a good time. ’
As her great grandmother used to say, Tess wasn’t so green as she was cabbage-looking. Not all the time anyway. ‘So I do a glowing write-up for The Sunday Sentinel?’
Gabe made sure to look Tess right in the eye. ‘Obviously, that would be an ideal outcome. You are something of a dating expert. If you enjoy this evening of many dates, there’s no reason why we couldn’t roll it out.’
‘I’m not a dating expert.’ Far from it. ‘Unless we’re talking about quantity rather than quality.’
The memory of all those terrible first dates, all the men lurking on her phone, in the apps, that she’d go on more terrible dates with, made Tess sigh.
‘Are you hungry?’ Gabe suddenly asked.
Tess would have liked to pretend that she wasn’t always thinking about her next meal, even when she was eating the current meal, but Gabe had already seen her horse down a metric fuckton of soup dumplings.
‘Well, I could eat,’ she offered diffidently. ‘Why?’
‘We’re quite near Borough Market as the crow flies,’ Gabe said, his tone just as offhand. ‘We could continue our walk and talk and finish up at that place that does the grilled cheese sandwiches.’
Was there any better combination of three words in the English language than ‘grilled cheese sandwich’? Only one, and as nobody Tess knew was going to be saying that to her anytime soon, then a wodge of melted cheese between two delicious slices of sourdough, plus condiments would have to do.
‘Sounds good to me,’ she said, getting to her feet as Gabe stood up too. She was surprised that he wanted to prolong their discussion. Especially as he had a lot of reading to be getting on with.
‘If we aim for The Shard, then turn off just before Southwark Cathedral,’ Gabe said, again matching his stride to Tess’s.
Sean had always hared off in front so that Tess had to walk a few steps behind him like a concubine.
‘While we’re walking, let’s drill down on what exactly constitutes Tess Hardy’s type … ’