Page 37 of A Smart Girl's Guide to Second Chances
‘The primary sensation I’ll be feeling tonight is hunger,’ Alex whispered, and I laughed.
We whizzed through ‘Smell’ and ‘Touch’ (venison and popping candy wasn’t necessarily a combination I’d be rushing to try again). Even though I was in a foreign environment, a place that couldn’t have been more English and rarefied unless a member of the royal family had shown up, it felt familiar. This could have been one of the dinner parties or barbecues or birthday lunches that Mum would throw before she left.
I mean, obviously we didn’t have silver candlesticks running down an antique table, and Mum didn’t serve a themed degustation to guests in tuxedos. But the carefully prepared food, people laughing and talking over each other, time stopping in the best way – Mum had always been able to create a similar atmosphere.
I basked in the warm fuzzy feeling of being a part of something again. Maybe this was the point of all these societies at Oxford – to make you feel like you belonged to a thing bigger than yourself, far away from home. Or maybe I was overthinking it and it was just an excuse to drink lots and get dressed up.
‘Should we make a plan to do something else on the “Salad Days List”?’ I asked, emboldened by my perpetually refilled wineglass. ‘I know you have a bit of a break before your viva.’ The words spilled out on top of each other. I felt like I was back at high school asking if Alex could put me in his Myspace top eight.
‘I did have another idea for the list,’ he said with a broad smile.
‘Will all your ideas require black tie?’ I asked.
‘I’d need tails for the Trinity Ball. Would that count?’ I wasn’t surprised that he could remember an item off a list he’d looked at for a few seconds days ago.
‘I think that would work,’ I said. I took a sip of the heavy red wine, which paired perfectly with the filet mignon (‘Taste’). ‘Do you have a ticket?’ He shook his head.
‘I can try to get you one if you want?’ Every summer a bunch of colleges hosted balls but there was only one lavish, white-tie Commemoration Ball each year. This year my college was the host, and the sense of anticipation had already started to build.
‘That would be great, thanks,’ he said.
‘So, we just have seven weeks to fill until then. What’s your idea?’ I asked.
‘I’m warning you, it’s geeky!’
‘I’m obsessed already.’
‘The name of my game is “Lecture Lottery”,’ he said. ‘How it works is that we turn up to the Exam Schools at nine each morning and go to whatever lecture looks most interesting. It can be from any faculty, on any subject.’
I laughed giddily because I adored the idea so much. He wanted to spend his time with me in lecture halls, learning random things. That wasmyidea of fun.
We finally finished dessert: a hamburger made of a chocolate mousse patty and brioche bun (‘Sight’). The silver jugs of coffee were passed around and the tapers had dwindled to stumps.
‘I think I’ve fulfilled my babysitting duties. Do you want to get out of here?’ Alex asked. The college staff were making a show of removing things from the table – eviction from the dining room was imminent, and a plan was emerging to kick on in the college bar.
‘Yes, please,’ I replied. I think we both knew that we weren’t going to the bar with the others.
‘We could have another drink?’ he suggested, when we emerged from the Senior Common Room into the now-dark quad. ‘The roof?’
‘I’m not sure I’d trust myself on a roof right now,’ I said, already slightly wobbly on firm ground. The wine had flowed all night and then there’d been port, which had been sticky and sweet and seemed to have just hit my bloodstream.
‘Dancing in the Moonlight’ wafted out of the cellar bar in the top right-hand corner of the quad. It should have been cringeworthy, especially because it was a full moon, but instead it just felt like someone had done a good job of scoring the evening.
‘Dance?’ he asked, offering me his hand.
I stared at him for a moment. I hadn’t expected him to be the kind of guy who’d want to dance, ever. But I was quickly learning that patterns of how people behaved weren’t helpful when it came to getting my head around Alex.
I took his hand, and he pulled me in against him. We swayed with each other to Toploader. For the first time I understood the point of dancing – it clicked why dancing had made all the difference for Anna and Vronsky, for Elizabeth and Darcy, in a way that I’d always thought was overwrought. For the first time, I understood why they’d begun to lose their heads.
He held the small of my back and I rested my hand on his shoulder. I wasn’t particularly short, but against Alex’s tall frame, I felt tiny.
We stayed like that until the song ended. Then I pulled away from him, feeling warm and slightly breathless. In the shadows of the quad at nighttime his pale blue eyes had darkened and looked more like sapphires. He leaned forwards and kissed me. As his soft lips met mine a part of me that I hadn’t been sure existed roared into life. It was an overpowering force, like a tidalwave. My stomach clenched and my palms, wrapped around Alex’s wool jacket, became clammy.
I took a step back, off balance in my heels.
‘Thanks for tonight.’ I crossed my arms tightly, even though I felt flushed.
I turned and walked down the path that bisected the quad. The college bells began to peal, because of course the clock had struck midnight. The stage had been set so perfectly I was tempted to do it justice and kick off one shoe.
