Page 7 of Love at First Sight

Cal shudders. ‘Mum stopped me playing outside without supervision after that. We always had to be in somebody’s garden in the summer holidays.’

‘Mum and Dad had the same rule,’ I say. ‘We could play outside on the street in the cul-de-sac if we were directly outside our house, but we couldn’t go to the shop without an adult or anything like that.’

‘I see what you mean about that being detrimental, though. If somebody is always watching you, how do you figure out who you are?’

‘Exactly.’ I’m pleased he understands. ‘And I am so anti-screens for kids. But if they don’t have screens, whatelse can they do, you know? So, Stray Kids would be supervised unsupervised play. You’d have a secure outdoor area crawling with volunteers at the periphery, but the kids would be left alone. So, if little Jonny decides to jump in puddles and gets wet feet, he can learn for himself that that’s what happens. Because otherwise, we tell little Jonny he’ll get wet feet, but he doesn’t have a concept of why that’s bad. He needs to learn it for himself.’

‘Five minutes with soggy socks will teach him that …’ points out Cal.

‘Right?’ I say. ‘Let them learn for themselves! We’d brief them on safety – don’t pick up anything that looks dangerous, always stay in groups of three or more, stand still and yell loudly for help and somebody in a high-vis vest will come immediately. All of that. But then, for two or three or four hours, whatever, the kids can fend for themselves: make forts, climb trees, play in the mud kitchen, decide when to eat their own snack even. So if you eat your snack at the beginning and get hungry later, next time you know to save your snack. Even kids being mean to each other – you see it in playgrounds all the time, caregivers intervening before kids can figure out a disagreement between themselves. But it’s because nobody wants to be accused of not caring, of not giving enough attention. But kids need to practise being brave with each other! All that interpersonal relationship stuff, give them room to discover it.’

Cal strokes his chin. ‘I’ve never thought of it like that before, but you’ve got me sold. Will parents – caregivers – go for it? If they’re really that risk-adverse?’

‘I’ve thought about this,’ I say. ‘But Stray Kids isn’t actuallydangerous, it’s not like we’re giving children knives and hoping for the best. It’s a real-life environment that we make as safe as possible, and I reckon all it takes is for a few parents to lead the way before everyone sees the magic. First session free, and a discount for kids on their own, so they understand it’s designed for children hoping to make new friends, too, not just groups of existing friends.’

‘You know,’ Cal says, ‘your face lights up like crazy talking about this. I don’t think you should sit on the idea for any longer. If something captures your heart, I believe you have a moral imperative to go for it.’

I blink. What he’s saying makes my stomach do flips, but more than that, the way he’s looking at me undoes me. He’s stopped being shy about his eye contact. I don’t mean to look down at his mouth but I do, and in return he looks at my mouth too. Is he thinking what I’m thinking? Is he wondering if we’re going to kiss, that we should kiss, that we should melt into one another and surrender to this, whatever this is?

‘Yeah,’ I say, smiling shyly. ‘I think you might be right.’

When we’ve paid our bill, we take a walk along the river. I don’t know whose idea it was – both? Neither? All I know is, this is the best date I have ever been on, and I didn’t even know it was going to happen. The sun is low in the sky, making pretty patterns on the water, bouncing and reflecting to give the air a romantic glow. Cal looks out over the river, but I look across at Cal. He’s so handsomein the golden hour of the day. His muscled neck slopes into his T-shirt, and it’s everything I can do not to reach out and smooth down the label poking out. He looks solid as marble. To be held in those arms would be to feel safe.

‘Best city in the world, isn’t she?’ Cal says, when we stop to admire the view.

‘I’m born and bred London, so I’ll give that a hearty yes,’ I say.

‘You must have seen some change in your time,’ he muses.

‘In my time?’ I squeal. ‘I’m not eighty!’

‘You know what I mean,’ he says, knocking his shoulder into mine.

‘Where were you raised?’ I ask.

‘All over. Dad’s job kept us on the move. Nothing fancy, he was an engineer. Surprising how often he changed jobs though. This is the longest I’ve settled anywhere. I came for uni at Goldsmiths and never left. I never would, especially now I’m in Lower Clapton. I love it.’

‘You must have seen some change inyourtime,’ I say, and he bites his lip to stop smiling too much.

‘You’ve got quite the mouth on you, don’t you?’

‘Yes, sir. And proud of it.’

Cal looks at me, licks his lips. It is … loaded. It robs the breath from me. I think it’s going to happen. At some point, we’re going to kiss.

‘Hmmm,’ he says, and then – and I’m not even making this up – a goddamn violinist sets up beside us and starts playing.

‘Jesus,’ Cal says. ‘This light, this music … you … This is so unexpected.’ He holds out a hand, as if he wants me to take it.

‘Dance with me?’ he asks, eyes big and vulnerable. ‘When is something like this ever going to happen again?’ And he’s got a point. This could be the last first date of my life, and so why not make it one to truly remember, cringey dance by the river and all.

‘I’d be delighted to,’ I say, stepping towards him so he can pull me in close.

My head rests on his reassuringly broad chest, one hand in his, the other on his waist, and we sway, gently, slowly, gorgeously, to the achingly lovely notes of the violin. It’s perfect. Strange, and cheesy, but perfect.

Remember this.

We don’t speak, just dance, and for the briefest of moments I even close my eyes, breathe in the manly scent of him, and start to believe that maybe I can have a happy ending, too. Or, at the very least, a happy beginning. I’m willing to work for the rest.

---