Page 12 of 56 Days
Her cheeks feel warm, her limbs languid, her tongue loose. She’s not yet drunk but drunker than she expected she’d get, than she knows she should be. It’s because she didn’t have any lunch.Couldn’thave any; nerves had stolen her appetite. She pulls her glass of water closer and silently resolves to drink it all before she takes even one more sip of alcohol.
She says, “Try me.”
He shows her a flash of something on his phone. “The film started ten minutes ago.”
“You’re joking.”
“We could make a run for it. They’re probably still on trailers and it’s only a couple of minutes away.”
“Would it be terrible—” she starts at the exact same timehesays, “Or we could just stay here.”
They both laugh.
“I hate rushing,” he says.
“Me too.”
“And I like drinking.”
“Me too.”
“And I like you.”
“Well, Iamvery likable.”
He laughs. He’s impressed with her.
After that quip, she’s a little impressed with herself.
“So,” she says, clearing her throat. She needs to change the subject, to give herself some time to come back from the tipsy cliff edge. “Do you come here often?”
“Oh, comeon.”
“I genuinely want to know.”
“This is actually only my second time here,” he admits. “And the other time was with work. I just...” He pinches the stem of his glass and slides it back and forth a little until the liquid starts to slosh around inside. “I wanted to come back here with...notwork.”
“Not work. Wow. I bet you say that toallthe girls.”
“Do you like it?”
Their eyes meet as he asks this and it occurs to her that up until now, practically sitting side by side, she hasn’t been making much eye contact with him at all.
It’s just as well because the way he’s looking at her now...
She never really understood the phrasepiercingwhen applied to eyes, but that’s what his are. He’s not just looking at her butinher, it feels like, right through the thin veneer of this pretending. It’s as if he hasX-rayvision that can effortlessly penetrate all the way to the real Ciara, the one who’s curled up and careful and desperately trying to protect herself from what it might feel like if this evening goes horribly wrong.
She looks away, back to her glass.
“I do,” she says. “I do like it. I mean... look, it’s not really where I’d usually be, let’s put it that way.” The alcohol fizzes in her bloodstream, disintegrating walls his gaze has been weakening all night. She can’t let them fall away completely, not on this, their very first date, but she can put her face to one of the gaps and speak to him across clear air without having to risk a step outside the boundary. “I can’t really afford to come to places like this, to be honest. Not on the regular, anyway. And if I’d known this is where we’d end up, I would’ve dressed differently. I was afraid the doorman was going to stop me and say, ‘Sorry, love. No Primark apparel allowed inside.’ ”
“He calls you loveandsaysapparel? Whoisthis guy?”
She slaps him playfully on the forearm.
“You know what I mean.”
“For the record,” he says, “I think you look lovely.”
