‘I can’t believe she thought I was a good match for Barbara,’ he continues. ‘That woman would make mincemeat of me!’
‘Which one was Barbara?’
‘The blonde one, wearing the tight V-neck top. She kept leaning forwards when she was talking to me, and I’m sure she kept pulling her top down to make sure I was in no doubt as to her intentions. If Davina hadn’t rung the bell when she did, I suspect Barbara would have gone beyond mere cleavage to actual indecency. How did you get on?’
‘Much the same. I just hope my jeans are okay. Remind me never to wear white jeans to a grotty pub again.’
By the time the taxi drops us off, we are at least able to make light of the evening, and we’re laughing about some of the characters we met. Elliott has relaxed, mainly because I’ve had to promise several more times that I’ll never do that to him again.
‘I’ve got some wine in the fridge if you fancy a glass,’ he tells me, as we climb the stairs. ‘I noticed you barely touched yours earlier.’
‘Ugh, it was horrible. Chateau Cat’s-wee, I reckon. If you’ve got something to take the taste of it away, I’d be grateful.’
I follow him into his flat. I’ve only been in here a couple of times before, but it’s totally Elliott. Everything is neat and in its place, and every surface is spotless. I plonk myself down on the sofa while he clatters around in the kitchen getting glasses and pouring the wine. When he comes out, he’s also got some crisps and nuts in little bowls.
We clink our glasses, and he’s right. This wine is a huge improvement on whatever they served at the pub.
‘So, statistics?’ I ask him, as he sits down next to me.
‘Well, it seems that you and I were a huge hit, but I wouldn’t have matched with any of them on an app, would you?’
‘No. Definitely not.’
‘To be honest, I’m not sure why I’m doing this,’ he says. ‘One thing tonight showed me is that I really don’t have any idea how to talk to a woman, and that’s the easy bit. If it started to get romantic, I would probably freeze. It’s so long since I’ve kissed anyone, I think there’s a good chance I’ve forgotten how.’
‘That’s patently not true,’ I scoff. ‘You have no difficulty talking to me, and I’m a woman.’
‘That’s different, though.’
‘How?’
‘Well, because it just is, okay?’
I can’t help laughing at his discomfort. ‘Kissing will be fine. It’s just like riding a bike, you never forget.’
‘I don’t know. The idea of it frightens me. What if I’m no good?’
This is the wounded Elliott talking, and my heart goes out to him. From what I’ve heard of his ex-wife, she wouldn’t have hesitated to put the boot into every aspect of him, including his sexual technique.
‘I know! Why don’t you kiss me and I’ll tell you whether it’s any good or not?’ I say to him. I’m not sure where this has come from; it’s probably the wine talking.
‘Absolutely not!’
‘Okay, then I’ll kiss you, so you can remember what it’s like. Nothing weird. No tongues or anything, just a simple kiss.’
I lean over, close my eyes and plant a soft kiss on his lips. I was right about his skin; it feels smooth against mine and I breathe in his cologne. I’m surprised how much I enjoy it, and he doesn’t pull away, which is good.
‘There,’ I say. ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’
‘No, it was nice,’ he admits.
‘Good. Now you try.’
Agonisingly slowly, he leans forward. When our lips meet again, he holds the kiss for a little longer before breaking away.
‘How was that?’ he asks.
‘I liked it,’ I reply, ‘but I think you can afford to let it linger more. Like this.’ I take his face in my hands as I press my lips against his. We stay there, without moving, for several seconds. I run my thumbs over his cheekbones and curl my fingers around the back of his neck. When we break away this time, my eyes don’t leave his face. Something has clicked inside me. The fact that Elliott is attractive is not news, but the sudden reality of my attraction to him definitely is. From the look on his face, it would seem the feeling is mutual.