Page 15 of The Wrong Suitcase

I don’t know how to respond.

13

Izzy

‘And just for the record, I would have kissed you back,’ I simper, my heart beating out of my chest as I try my best to look seductive and confident as I walk away, when really what I feel is … bedraggled? I’m mortified he just heaved my big, lumping frame. I’m sure I must weigh twenty times more than what he assumed. I can feel his eyes on the back of me as I search out Anastasia and Kat, but if I look back he will have won.

Don’t ask me what he will have won, because I’m not entirely sure what the competition is, but it’s important I don’t show any weakness, and looking back would concede something to him. Maybe that he’s got under my skin. I definitely lose if I turn my head in his direction.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ Anastasia says as I slip into the seat assigned to me by way of a calligraphy nametag on my plate. We’re towards one end of the long row, a few seats down from Ian and Claire, who are sat surrounded by their various family members. ‘You just disappeared!’

‘Shorts Guy,’ I say, unable to find the words to describe him with any more clarity. She furrows her brow. ‘Reading Guy,’ I push.

‘Have you just had sex?’ she squeals, and suddenly Kat breaks off from whoever she’s talking to on her left side to turn right and listen in.

‘What now?’ Kat says. ‘You didn’t!’

‘No,’ I say, and, clinging to Anastasia’s arm, I add, ‘And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t let the whole party know your thoughts, Big Mouth.’

‘Sorry,’ she says, pulling a face. ‘It was the shock. You looked a bit flushed and … post-coital.’

‘What happened?’ Kat presses.

A tall, lean black-stubbled man in a beige suit interrupts us before I can explain.

‘Good evening,’ he says, pointing to one of the empty place settings opposite us on the long trestle table. ‘This is me. I guess we’re tablemates tonight.’

It makes me lose my trail of thought, all ideas of Suitcase Man disappearing. I didn’t even get his name, and I told him he should have kissed me!

‘Izzy,’ I wave.

‘Anastasia.’

‘Kat, hey.’

The man introduces himself as Aran, and as soon as his attention is turned to the fizzy water in front of him, I lower my voice and explain to Anastasia, ‘He’s so hot. Suitcase Man. And after we went to get his stuff I told him he should have kissed me? Just like that? I don’t know what came over me!’

‘Darling,’ Anastasia says, accepting Aran’s offer to fill up her water glass too. He’s already making animated conversation with the man on his right, so we’re not being rude by ignoring him. ‘There’s flirty with a bit of nuance, and then there’s outright gagging for it. Come on.’

‘I know,’ I say, putting my face in my hands. ‘I know! I was trying to be cool and suave and challenging. He was so mad that I hadn’t just left his case at reception – which is your fault, I might add. You were the one who said to keep it.’

‘You’re a big girl!’ counters Anastasia. ‘I didn’tmakeyou do anything!’

We collectively look up at the sound of Aran exclaiming, ‘Oh, Birchy! I almost didn’t recognise you without your dressing gown on!’

It’s Suitcase Man. Aran is shaking his hand, and Suitcase Man is looking directly at me, a smirk playing on his lips. I smirk back, but I’m blushing, too. I can’t tell who is winning now.

‘Yeah, well.’ Suitcase Man (Birchy?) says. ‘Once I saw on the table plan that we’d be spending the night beside one another, I thought: “Go for it, make the effort.”’ He’s all suit-wearing and gel-haired and apparently sitting right across from me. ‘I’m holding you to that first dance.’ Aran chuckles at what must be a private joke.

‘Hey, Charlie,’ Suitcase Man says to the man on the other side of him, who now I’ve noticed looks remarkably like Suitcase Man himself.

‘Nice of you to join us, bro,’ Charlie says. Does Suitcase Man know everybody at this wedding?

Aran tells him, ‘Sit down, dude. I think we’re in for a feast. And you’re looking good, by the way. I take it you found your case?’

‘Indeed I did,’ he replies, and it makes my tummy lurch.

Birchy moves to pull out his chair and glances up as he does it. Because I’m still staring at him, our eyes lock. His jaw slackens, just the tiniest amount, and then he grins.

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