Chapter 9
Ember
“I can’t believe you have a date tonight and didn’t tell us!,” I tease a currently very rosy-cheeked Poppy.
“It’s so you could have a guilt-free one-night stand, wasn’t it?,” Amy pipes in.
Poppy looks at the floor, full-on tomato-faced now.
“Oh my god, I knew it!,” Amy squeals, turning from the cooker where she’s currently cooking pasta and flinging her wooden spoon accusingly in Poppy’s direction.
I shrug my shoulders with a smirk and look over to Poppy, “Hey, no judgement here.” Seriously though, it’s only the first week of uni and she’s already bagged a date? I commend her.
Poppy’s eyes roll so deeply into the back of her head that I swear they might get stuck there. “For god’s sake it’s nothing like that! We’re just meeting up for a drink that’s all,” she assures.
“Sure. We all know what ‘drinks’ is code for,” Amy replies, her tone burning with mischief.
“And what’s that?,” Poppy says, arms firmly crossed now.
“Casual sex,” Amy jokes.
“Drinks,” says Poppy.
“Sex.”
“Drinks,” Poppy replies sharply, but her frown quickly diminishes when she bursts into defeated laughter.
It’s my turn to interrupt now, “Okay we all agree it’s drinks, but seriously though, why didn’t you mention it earlier? It’s too exciting not to share!” I don’t want to seem like a nosey Nora, but I’m genuinely happy for her and call me cliché, but I love the idea of helping her to pick out her outfit and gossip all about it like we’re in an early 2000s rom-com montage.
“Well,” Poppy says, a brief flicker of guilt crossing her face, “I didn’t feel like it was the right time to mention it earlier when you were so stressed about the whole Arthur situation, thought it would have been a bit crap of me to start gushing about my date.” My heart sank, I knew I should have shut up about it earlier.
Dammit Ember and your curse to overshare.
Maybe if I had nipped all the complaining in the bud, she would have felt comfortable telling us, she must have been so excited too.
I droop my lips and press my hand on her shoulder. “Aww Poppy I’m sorry. Honestly, I don’t know when to stop, next time just tell me to shut my face and I’ll zip it, promise,” I mime zipping my mouth shut and throwing away the key.
“No, don’t be silly! You know about it now so I might as well share the details,” she adds with a wink.
“Aha! See Emb, told you that they’re planning on fu-”, Amy interrupts.
“NO,” Poppy and I shout in unison, our smiles reaching our eyes.
As Poppy gushes over their meet-cute in their ethics seminar, the coffee date, and then how he took charge and texted her almost immediately to see if she wanted to go for a drink with him, I can definitely see why she’s so ecstatic, (men, take notes). I almost feel a little bit jealous if I’m honest, but just as quickly as that feeling appears, it disappears, because I’m nothing but happy for my friend. I know what you’re probably thinking, it’s early days, how can you possibly get so excited about a guy you’ve only just met, surely it won’t last. But the thing is, I don’t think Poppy’s seeking out wedding bells. She’s fully aware that it could literally end up being nothing but a friendship, fling, or flop, but at least she’s putting herself out there, seizing opportunities that come her way. I say good for her, it’s something I want to try and do more of myself.
As we all huddle together in the kitchen, giggling like schoolgirls, the kitchen door swings open and we’re greeted by a dishevelled-looking Toby, drenched in sweat from a run, (well the fact he’s dressed head to toe in Yellow Lycra, I’m hoping he’s been for a run and that this isn’t just some weird new fashion choice).
Amy breaks into a fit of laughter when she clocks him, “nice leggings!”
Poppy and I smirk at one another, “You look like a traffic cone,” I finally snort, turning towards him.
Toby flips us all the bird before pouring the remnants of his water bottle down the sink. “At least I was out exercising and making good use of my time, not stuck to my flatmates like glue. I swear you’ll be going to the toilet with each other next.” Little does he know; girls do actually accompany each other to the toilet. I mean come on, have you even really had a night out if your friend doesn’t whisk you away to the toilet to break the seal and hold your hair back as you’re sick, it’s a rite of passage. Think of it like confessing your sins in a church, apart from the confession box is a grotty stall and the priest is some random drunk girl that gushes about how gorgeous you are and shrieks at you to never call your ex back. I decide it’s in my best interest not to give him any ammo though.
He senses our silence before puffing out a sigh, “Dare I ask what you were all giggling like lunatics over as I came in?”
I give Poppy a playful nudge before replying, “This one’s going on a date tonight for drinks, we’re just having a proud parent moment is all.”
Toby’s look of confusion quickly morphs into a sly grin, “Ahh drinks is it. That’s how it starts.”
I could see a flicker of a smile reach Amy’s mouth because that’s exactly what she said earlier. Toby notices this and obviously realising that she’d been caught in the act, Amy almost immediately clears her throat and opts for a dark glare in his direction instead.
Poppy looks at him disapprovingly and says “Oh god, not you too. How many times, it’s just drinks! Nothing more nothing less.”
Toby, his grin still very much devilish, responds, “Whoa- don’t get your knickers in a twist now- I’m just saying, you, him…alone. One drink will lead to another, then another. You’ll gaze into each other’s eyes and drunk on lust, he’ll ask you back to his flat and then…well when a man and a woman love each other very much.”
Poppy cuts him off and screams. “AH THAT’S IT I GIVE UP!,” she turns to Amy and me with desperate eyes, “One of you take one for the team and come with me? I’m going to ask Sam if he can bring one of his friends along.”
Amy scoffs, “Poppy, I love you, but I’m denouncing all things men at the moment remember.”
Amy’s long-term boyfriend of 3 years, Elijah, had ended things with her literally a weekbefore she moved here. I know that’s low, low. He decided that he ‘didn’t believe’ in long-distance relationships, (despite him going to the University of Bristol, which is l mere 15-minute train ride from Bath) and that he felt it wouldn’t be fair of him to keep the relationship going. Amy being Amy did only the natural thing any girl would’ve done in her situation, she burst into tears…well, then she kicked him in the balls, hard. Somehow in the future, I don’t think Elijah will make the same mistake again.
Toby, looking ravenous for drama, says, “Aww Amy, is that because no one from the Scottish National Party was interested in taking you on a date? I’m sure you’ll find your perfect little Scottish patriot that you can run off into the Loch Ness with very soon,” his voice thick with sarcasm.
Before I can even cut him off, I notice a random spatula hurtling its way through the air towards him like a frisbee, and with a sudden thud, it smacks him clean on the head.
“Okay, ow,” he winces, rubbing the top of his head.
It was Amy’s turn to grin, “that’s karma for being an insufferable little cock.”
Poppy looking even more frantic now, grabs both of my hands, “Ember, please, I’m begging! Do you want me to get down on my knees, is that what I have to do? I will!” She prepares to squat down towards the floor, her hands pressed together in prayer before I put out a hand to stop her.
“Okay fine. I have conditions though,” I add.
It looks like the light has reached Poppy’s eyes again as she quickly stands back up, “name it.”
I lift my index finger, “One: I will not be expected to flirt with them or try to bag a boyfriend in the process, make sure Sam tells them the same thing so we don’t have different expectations for the evening.” Poppy nods. “Two:,” now lifting my second finger, “Please no weirdos.”
“Define weirdo,” Poppy replies.
“You know. Someone who prefers dogs to cats, doesn’t like cheese, is incapable of doing their own washing…has a Freudian relationship with their mother,” I wrap my arms around my body and fake shudder.
She breathes out a laugh, “Good thing it’s not a real date for you then because you’re clearly not picky at all.”
The funny thing is, even though I know this is very much not a real date, but rather a favour for a friend, I still can’t seem to escape the manic fizz in my stomach, like a bottle of prosecco after immediately being popped. I know nothing will come out of this and in fairness, I don’t think I necessarily want it to either. There’s just something unnerving about the concept of literally sitting opposite someone and essentially having a job interview. You big yourself up to the nines, pouring white lie after white lie, (‘I work well under pressure, I do, honest!’), you brush all your flaws firmly under the rug and only come to reveal who you truly are when you’re in the safety of relationship territory. It’s then that you finally peel off the metaphorical mask and hope that the other person likes what they see underneath. Most people would probably think you’re referring to yourself when you’re bare-faced, the redraw blemishes out in full force when the makeup comes off. Maybe you have a scar or birth defect you’ve never wanted anyone to see. Maybe you snore super loudly, sleepwalk, or have terrible morning breath. Maybe you’re insecure about your body and fear what that person will say when they see your clothes pool into a mess on the floor and the spotlight falls on the real you.
Ultimately, these are the very things that make us human after all. But if you’re me, you fear all of the above, and you know, just one teensy weensy other detail that you neglect to think about, you’re a half-witch.