Page 35 of Wish You Were Here
‘Leave that to me. So, you in?’
What can I say?
‘Go on then,’ I reply, and Brad orders an Uber, and we are soon driving through the streets of Sydney towards Bondi, my damp bottom squishing against the seat of the car.
When we get to his flat, he tells me to follow him into his second-bedroom he uses for an office. It’s another beautifully decorated room, all set up for work, but it also has a pull-out bed for guests and a built-in wardrobe.
‘Now, don’t think this is weird because it isn’t,’ says Brad, opening the wardrobe door.
‘I probably wouldn’t have until you said that. What’s inside? Your fetish wardrobe of women’s clothes you only wear on the weekend? No offence, Brad, but I’m not sure we’ll be the same size.’
‘I did some work for a leisurewear brand last year, all workout clothes to do with my chiropractic practice, and I ended up with some extra things, including some women’s stuff. I meant to give it to my sister, but I just haven’t got around to it yet,’ says Brad, who reaches into the wardrobe and pulls out two boxes. ‘Have a look in here.’
I peer into one of the boxes, and it is full of workout bras, tops, shorts, and the other box is full of long sleeve tops, socks, and it all looks like really good stuff.
‘I’ll tell you what,’ says Brad. ‘I’ll nip out and get us some brekky while you get changed. Sound good?’
‘Yeah, okay,’ I say, looking at Brad. ‘You know, you aren’t the man I thought you were.’
‘You were expecting the beast and instead I’m more like the Prince fella he turns into?’
‘Something like that. Sorry I stuffed up the date, but before I capsized I was really enjoying it.’
I look into his gorgeous dark eyes, and he takes a step nearer to me.
‘Me too.’
‘I’m sorry you had to fish a condom out of my hair.’
‘I’m not,’ says Brad, and I take a step nearer to him.
‘Why? It was gross.’
‘But it gave us a funny first-date story.’
‘You are not telling people about the hair condom!’
‘I definitely am,’ says Brad, taking a step nearer until we are face to face.
‘But what if this is our only date?’
‘It’s not.’
‘You sound pretty confident about that,’ I say, my voice trailing off when he leans forward and kisses me. All thoughts of the kamikaze seagull, of capsizing, the hair condom and the fact my underwear are still wet through, go out of the window, and I am kissing gorgeous Brad, and it is incredible. I have no idea if we’re a good-match, whether our lives will fit together, if he’s the good guy he seems to be or the evil arsehole Jess tells me he is, but at this moment I don’t care. He’s taking off my clothes, I’m taking off his, and we are walking/kissing back to his bedroom, my hands are on his amazing body, his hands are all over mine and we are going to have sex.
15
Ben
Poppy and Hugh have one of those flats that every young couple in London desperately crave. It’s a two-bed ground-floor flat in a gorgeous old Victorian house in the heart of Balham with bags of original features, high-ceilings and its own private garden. They have also spent the past four years since they bought it, renovating and decorating the flat beautifully, so it’s just about perfect, unlike the weather. It’s one of those days when it was lashing it down with rain when I woke up this morning, and it is still lashing it down with rain now. It is ominously dark outside, but fortunately inside Poppy and Hugh are cooking one of their legendary roast dinners. I think in most couples, it’s common that at least one of them can cook something reasonably edible, but with Poppy and Hugh, they’re both brilliant cooks. Hugh has a thing about buying the best quality meat and cooking it to perfection, while Poppy is a dab hand at all the trimmings. Today it is roast beef with Yorkshire puddings.
It’s also an exciting day because Poppy and Hugh are going to tell everyone that she is pregnant. The rain has created a rather dreary atmosphere outside, but inside the flat, we are all in the kitchen talking, drinking wine, and Poppy and Hugh are finishing up with the roast.
‘Despite being surrounded by literally hundreds of young women in Lycra, Ben managed to find one that was in a long-term relationship with a personal trainer, and another one that lived in Bristol,’ says Will.
‘To be fair, parkruns are not ideal for finding love,’ I retort.
‘And why is that?’ asks Hugh, taking the meat thermometer out of a sumptuous roast beef joint while Poppy is taking the giant Yorkshire puddings out of the oven. I love my sister for so many reasons, but one of them is that she makes the best Yorkshire puddings I have ever had. According to her, the secret is beef dripping and a scorching hot oven.
