It was hard not to laugh. Isaac sat somewhere between confident and self-conscious, a good balance of the two. ‘You’re on thin ice, but I reckon you’ve got another chance left in you.’
‘Aha!’ He pulled himself gently away from my ear. ‘Fixed it, with not only the jumper and the earring intact, but also my chances. What’ll you be drinking?’
His accent was strong and he was so clearly a Mancunian. He was wearing his glasses; damn it, I was a sucker for glasses.
‘Rosé please. With lemonade,’ I requested quickly before he had the chance to call me out, smirking at his menu instead.
I was a historic lightweight, and although drunken dates could be fun, I had no interest in making myself look any more of a fool than I had done in the last two minutes.
Whilst he was at the bar, I texted Maeve quickly to report that he didn’t seem like a murderer – our six-year-long rule for when the other one went on dates. Granted, I hadn’t used it in a while. She texted back immediately.
Maeve: Excellent news. Now leave me to my Seth Cohen and have fun.
‘They asked if you wanted ice. I went for it.’ Two glasses were plonked down in front of me, one full to the brim with several cubes of ice.
‘A risk-taker, I like it.’ I fished a few out, adding them to my wine.
‘So, Penny.’ He leaned forward, elbows on the table. ‘I have to say, it’s really good to meet you after all the intrigue.’
I fought the urge to ask him whether a voice note feature would have stepped up the mystery. This wasn’t work.
‘Am I worth the wait?’
He held up his pint for a cheers. ‘Very much so.’
We settled into comfortable conversation, building on the snippets we’d exchanged over the past week. It had never come naturally to me to be an open book, but I was resisting less than usual, which was a start. I told him about Joe and Isla’s engagement, and the ridiculous sten do that I assumed Rory would pitch for.
‘The first thing I said to my mate, when I saw your photos, was that you looked like you had a close-knit group of friends.’
I smiled at the visual of him with his friends, poring over my photo of the six of us in Madrid last year, drunk on sunshine and sangria. It was one of my favourites ever.
‘Yeah, they’re the best. You know when spending time with people doesn’t drain your battery at all? So you fully assessed my photos, then. What did you get from the rest of them?’ I sipped my drink, well aware that I was fishing for a compliment. I really did need to know if the photo of me asleep on the beach was on the wrong side of funny. Isla was adamant that it was.
‘Your photos are great, but to be honest I was hooked before that. As soon as we started talking, I abandoned my other matches.’ He shrugged. ‘That’s probably very uncool of me to say.’
I didn’t think it would go down well to admit that he was the fifth of my matches that I’d pursued, so I told a white lie.
‘Not uncool at all. I was the same. I don’t have time to be messaging six people at once. When would I eat, or sleep?’ This part, at least, was true. I wasn’t in the market for another full-time job.
Isaac grinned, emboldened by my response. ‘You’re actually the first person I’ve met from Level. I downloaded it as a bit of a joke, to be honest.’
Did this stray into the immoral side of dishonesty? As far as Isaac knew, I worked in computer programming. But he had no clue it was for the very app that we were discussing. Oh, and that actually my best friend and I built it.
‘How so?’ I bit my lip and decided to crawl further into my web, considering this flow of conversation a valuable nugget of market research. Rory would have done the same thing – a benchmark with which I judged a lot of my decisions.
‘Well, there’s a new app every week at this point. One of my mates sent me the link, and I was a bit put off at first. Stripping back the dating experience seemed so old-fashioned, like something my parents would have done. But it was nice. In this weird digital age it kind of felt more real.’
I fought the urge to ask him to slow down, so I could type this on my phone notes. Would it be going too far to use it as an official product review?
‘I imagine that was the aim.’ Now that I was in the web, I might as well stretch my eight dishonest legs a bit. ‘How much can you actually know about your compatibility with someone based on a photo of them pouting in a mirror?’
Isaac snorted. ‘You’re not wrong. I’d never thought about it that way, but you’re right. What made you download it?’
I hesitated, before scampering full-force down the path of deception.
‘Oh, same sort of thing as you. My friends dared me to download it, really.’ Technically true, if by friends I meant colleagues. And by download it, I meant finally use it. It had been downloaded on my phone the second it went live on the app store.
‘Classic.’ Isaac nodded, accepting the lie without a second thought. ‘Another drink?’
I glanced down at my empty glass, surprised. Time was flying by; I’d expected to stay an hour, two at most, and then to head back to the flat, ready to collapse onto the sofa and settle into an easy evening with the girls. Instead, I found myself wanting to stay. There’d been no misogynistic comments or offensive stereotypes. No calling his ex-girlfriends psycho, being rude to the bartenders, or saying that he didn’t believe in tipping. It was going suspiciously smoothly. Maybe Level did actually work.
***
It took about ten seconds from me walking through the door for them both to pounce. Isla was wearing silk pyjamas, her hair in dressing gown curls. I took that as confirmation that she was staying the night; she had been known to go home in her ‘comfies’, but this was pushing it.
‘So?’ She linked her elbow through mine, leading me into the living room where I could see evidence of a very successful pity party.
I pinched the last chocolate button before glancing briefly at Maeve, who narrowed her eyes. ‘You’d better not be considering downplaying any happiness because of me.’
Maeve had given both of us – particularly Isla, with her post-engagement glow – a strict talking to about hiding our joy. Apparently, it wasn’t healthy for us to push it down, or for Maeve to live in a world where no one talked about it. She’d forced Isla to tell her everything she’d missed from the latter half of the engagement party. Maeve was staring at me now, daring me to hide anything from her.
‘Okay then, yes, I think I had a good time.’
Isla pulled back to look at me. ‘You think?’
I thought back to how quickly the evening had passed, and how he’d pulled me in for a hug at the end of the evening. He smelt like mint and fresh air (which was rare in this city).
‘Fine, I know I had a good time.’
