NOAH: Done. 6 p.m.?
MAYA: Assuming I get out of work at 5, yes. But my boss is a nightmare. Shall we make it 6.30 to be on the safe side?
NOAH: It’s OK, I don’t mind waiting for a good thing. I’ll be there at 6 – see you in front of the clocktower x.
Staring at the little kiss at the end of the message, I couldn’t stop my smile spreading into a huge grin. I was finally seeing Noah again! OK, he didn’t seem to remember me from our Tube encounter, but that was fine. To be fair, I did look completely different. And he wasn’t the one who had been perusing my notebook for almost a year either. If he had, the memory of our meeting wouldn’t have faded so quickly.
Putting my phone back into my bag, I started down Turnpike Lane and towards my house with a silly smile still on my face. I would have to ask Lucy to help me come up with the perfect casual date outfit. As I continued down the main road lined with shops on either side, going through all the items in my wardrobe one by one, I spotted a familiar car drive past. It looked like Malik’s Beemer, but as I lifted my arm to wave at my brother, I thought I saw a mane of either light brown or possibly blonde hair in the passenger seat. I hurriedly dropped my hand and watched the car disappear down the street.
Malik arrived home an hour or so after me and I grabbed hold of him when he came upstairs, before he could lock himself in the bathroom for an hour and yanked him into my room.
‘Malik! I saw you on TPL with your girlfriend!’ I whispered as he stumbled into my room, holding onto the door frame to stop himself from falling over.
‘W-what?’ he stammered, visibly paling before my eyes. ‘What did you see?’
If Malik had turned white, I’m certain I turned green at the thought of him doing something he didn’t want me to see.
‘Ew, why would you get up to no good on your doorstep? If you don’t want people you know to see you with a girl, you shouldn’t be driving down the ends with her!’
‘I was dropping her home,’ he mumbled, edging away from me. ‘It’s not a big deal.’
‘What’s going on with her then? Have you sorted out your issues?’
‘Dimple, do you mind?’ he snapped, in a way that suggested that they hadn’t sorted anything out. ‘I just got home, I need a shower and I don’t fancy being interrogated right now!’
With that, my brother stomped into his room and slammed the door behind him, leaving me baffled on the other side.
Chapter Thirty
The next day, I discovered that there were such things as semi-permanent tattoos, so I half-heartedly ordered a pretty-looking Arabic one online, which Lucy helped me apply at work on Wednesday ahead of my meeting with Noah. It looked sort of sexy along the side of my hand, positioned exactly where Noah was bound to notice it. Lucy was a genius like that.
I didn’t feel excited about meeting Noah, despite what my strategically placed ‘tattoo’ may have suggested. There was too much going on in my mind for me to process and it was overwhelming. There was work, Noah, Zakariya and seeing my brother with his mysterious lady-friend and cagey behaviour, all weighing on my mind.
‘Can I style you for your date?’ Lucy asked as we walked back to our desks, letting out collective sighs of relief when we saw that Sheila wasn’t in her office. I had yet to send her the email asking about going part-time. I had written it but was planning to send it when I wouldn’t have to run into her immediately afterwards, like a minute before logging out to go home. The thought of sending her that email stressed me out a lot more than my upcoming date with Noah, although that was also up there on my ‘most nerve-wracking moments this year’ list. Not that I had a list like that. One list at a time was more than enough for me, thanks.
‘Yes, please,’ I said, although the thought of trying on hundreds of outfits exhausted me. ‘I don’t want to look like I’ve made too much of an effort though.’
‘I know, hun, but you do need to get your hair done. It’s been months and it’s looking messy. And you could do with a manicure to go with your tattoo and we haven’t got you a spring/summer wardrobe yet either and—’
‘OK! I get the point. But there isn’t enough time.’
‘Let’s go to Westfield after work. We’ll make it quick. I’ll see if I can get you a hair appointment and while you get your hair and nails done, I’ll buy you some bits and pieces.’
A few hours later, I was sitting in a salon with foil in my hair and my hands spread out while one lady worked on my hair and another worked on my hands as if I were some sort of celebrity. It felt good but I couldn’t help but wonder if Noah was doing anything remotely like this in preparation for his date with me. Probably not. Why were women the ones who were always under pressure to perform like a show horse, while men could wash their faces and brush their teeth and that would be considered making an effort? And why was I letting Lucy coerce me into continuing this toxic cycle?
Because the sad reality was, I needed it. How I looked directly correlated to how I felt. Maybe one day it wouldn’t. Maybe one day I wouldn’t care, but right then I did. And that didn’t make me a bad person, or anti-feminist, did it? I made a mental note to hash it out with Fareena next week.
A couple of hours later, I met Lucy again – thankfully she hadn’t gone wild with my credit card, but she did still have a fair number of high-street bags on her arms.
‘Here, let me show you what I got,’ she said, pulling me over to a bench.
‘Aren’t we going to eat anything? I’m starving.’
‘Sorry, I’m meeting someone in a bit,’ she replied vaguely, rummaging through the shopping bags so she could avoid making eye contact with me.
‘Not that guy you ended things with?’ I asked, my heart sinking. ‘You told me to never let you see him again until he was ready to commit.’
‘I know,’ she said quietly. ‘I sort of ran into him recently and he’s been calling me since then. I’m going to let him say his piece.’
‘OK,’ I leant over to hug her. ‘I hope it goes well. Remember that you deserve someone who’s proud to commit to you and introduce you to his family and friends.’
‘I know. Now let me quickly show you what I bought before I dash.’
Lucy began taking various shirts, dresses and jackets out of the bag and showed me what she wanted me to wear to work on Thursday: a silky sage green shirt dress with a belt and black boots.
‘Err, you know I don’t show my legs, right?’ I reminded her.
‘I know, so I bought you these wool tights to wear with them. You can’t see your skin through them. You’re going from work so you can’t meet him in jeans and a shirt, Sheila will kill you.’
