‘Okay fine, but if he starts asking me anything about sexting, it’s on you.’
We shuddered simultaneously.
13
‘Answer it, answer it!’ Maeve had snatched my phone from my hand and was waving it around. ‘Date three is on the horizon, baby.’
I rolled my eyes, answering Isaac’s call.
‘How was dress shopping?’ I smiled involuntarily at the sound of his voice. This wasn’t the first time he’d rang; apparently, Isaac was an over-the-phone date planner.
‘We found it. Or rather, she found it. Maeve, Mum, and I just sat around all afternoon drinking mimosas.’
It was true. We’d been tasked as the wedding dress team, lazing on the sofa in the changing room and giving brutal honesty (which Isla had specifically asked for) at every new dress. Mum had stepped in at the last minute to be there – Isla’s own mother was on a non-refundable weekend away in rural Spain – and her sisters (the two other bridesmaids alongside Maeve and me) hadn’t been able to find babysitters in time. An excuse I had my suspicions about. We were T-minus fifty-two days until the big day, and Isla had tried on seven dresses, all the way from meringue to mermaid, before falling in love with a simple A-line with tiny little diamantes scattered in the skirt, providing a subtle shimmer. It was the kind of dress that would absolutely lend itself to the sunshine in June. It was gorgeous.
‘I’m sure that you were suitably supportive even in your drunken state. It sounds a lot more fun than my afternoon spent marking papers. Who knew thirty mock papers could give me such a headache?’
Next to me, Maeve was mouthing ‘invite him to the pub’, but I gave a sharp shake of my head. After Adrian, anyone we dated would need to go through a tough initiation before we let them into the circle of trust.
‘So, I was actually ringing to organise our third date. What do you fancy? I was thinking dinner at a little Spanish place I know in Waterloo? Amazing red wine. But I’m open to any and all ideas.’
I didn’t have to look at Maeve to know that she would be gesturing wildly about communication and effort. I smiled. ‘That sounds great. I’m free this Friday?’
‘It’s a date.’ Isaac was smiling, I could hear it. ‘I imagine you’re on your way to celebratory drinks at the pub?’
Again, I fought the urge to invite him. We’d only been on two dates, and part of me was worried about unleashing the wolfpack on him. I didn’t want them to start assessing or passing comment until I’d made up my own mind. What would they think of straightlaced, sensible Isaac? What would Rory – who lived and breathed fun – think of him? Not that it should make a difference what Rory thought. That was irrelevant, obviously.
‘I am indeed on my way for a pint. What’s the point in having a wedding if you can’t celebrate every milestone?’ Our local was in sight now, an old man’s pub that was equidistant to all of our flats. Isla had stayed behind at the boutique to finalise a couple of things, but everyone else was en route. Saturday nights together were generally held sacred. It was a selfish bonus that we had Maeve every week now, rather than just one in two.
‘Well, have a lovely evening and report back on the goss. I love a wedding.’
I knew from our first date that he’d been the ring bearer at his parent’s wedding; way too young to have been sinking pints, but a cute visual nonetheless.
‘Well, you never know, you may get an invite to one sooner than you think.’
Okay, I had definitely consumed too much prosecco to be talking to a man over the phone. Maeve slapped my arm, raising her arms in a party motion.
Isaac laughed. ‘Yeah, maybe.’ There was a pause. Oh shit. Why on earth had I just said that? I didn’t even really mean it.
‘Anyway, go and have a drink for me and I’ll see you on Friday. I’ll text you the details when I’ve booked it.’
We ended the call, promising to see each other in six days’ time. The plus-one faux pas aside, I was excited to see him again. It felt new, the fizzing in my stomach.
‘Go Penny.’ Maeve beamed. ‘Someone is beginning to catch a few feelings.’
The blood ran from my cheeks. ‘I am not.’
‘Right, okay.’
I ignored her and led the way into the pub.
***
As soon as we made our entrance, Maeve made a beeline for the toilets, having made the mistake of breaking the seal back at the boutique. I joined Rory at the bar.
‘Hey stranger.’ I was going for the sneak attack, trying to make him jump. He was wearing a faded sweatshirt from our university days, his hair still damp from the spell of rain we’d had. That man had never carried an umbrella in his life.
‘Heard those boots clacking a mile off, Webber. Nice try.’ He turned and handed me a pint, our hands overlaying in the exchange. We both stared down, neither of us moving for a second until he cleared his throat, causing me to pull the glass from him as he went back to nursing his own drink.
‘How did the big dress excursion go? Successful?’
I ignored the weird moment, plastering an unbothered expression on my face to match his. ‘Very successful. Dress has been secured, and I’m not giving any hints.’
He smirked. ‘It’s only the groom that’s meant to be in the dark. Or have you mistaken me for your dashing older brother?’
I took a swig of my pint and pulled a face. ‘Gross.’
‘And what about your dress? The maid of honour is the second most important, no?’ Rory was teasing me, the corner of his mouth upturned.
‘No progress as of yet, not that I’d tell you anyway.’
He leaned on his elbows, closing the distance between us. ‘You tease me, Penny.’
I swallowed. What was going on? Dating was clearly messing with my head. I was beginning to think everything was flirting.
Rory had laughed off his comment, running his hands through his curls. ‘I’m telling you, this Isaac fella is a lucky man.’
I felt a weird flash of irritation. ‘It’s been two dates, I’m not betrothed to the guy.’
