Stories We Ruined Together Pt. 01

"A cat who you've called Romeo."

"Yes. Anyway, t's all very normal, and fine, so there's no need to ask any more questions."

Ed rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt -- it always makes me nervous to see white clothing in close proximity to red wine, ridiculously. "But I want to know a bit more. Because I really like writing too."

"You do?"

"Yeah, I do. Do you think that I'm thick just because I work in a supermarket?"

"No, of course not," I said too quickly, before I saw that he was, obviously, kidding around with me. "Bastard."

"Alright, steady on. Anyway, yes, I like writing, and reading. I've never tried to share anything though. I'm not a famous writer like you."

"Yeah, you should be jealous of my thirty loyal readers."

"I am a bit. Can you tell me about your current project then?"

I looked him up and down, as if assessing his trustworthiness. And then I explained Rosie's Winter of Love -- how Rosie was a frustrated postgraduate student, torn between fooling around with her immature friend with benefits, and involving herself with a brilliant but troubled professor at her university, all the while trying to establish her own identity and escape the shadow of her controlling parents.

"But I'm struggling with it. I might even pack it all in. The whole thing. I'm not going to be a great writer."

"You shouldn't give it up, if it's something you care about."

"Thanks wise one."

"I could help you with it, maybe." He looked so earnest and kind, I felt a rush of gratitude, even though the idea seemed nothing but stupid. "I'd like to."

"I don't know. It's a bit embarrassing, to be honest. Hey, let's talk about something else."

Ed asked me why I'd given him my phone number. "Not that I'm not complaining, I'm very glad you did, and it's great to be here."

"Yeah, it is -- cheers."

"Cheers." Our glasses met with that so pleasing sound.

"But I'm curious as to why. You can't be short of opportunities on the dating apps, so I feel like there's a specific reason."

I hid my blush by taking a long long drink. The pub was half-full, a good level of humming chatter, enough to hide in and enough to still feel calm and unsurrounded.

"Well, I liked your face, I liked your voice... and something told me you could change my life, in some way." That sounded ridiculous. But he nodded as if it was completely normal.

"What sort of way? Good or bad?"

"I'm not sure yet."

"Alright, fair enough."

"And why did you say yes?"

"For the same reason."

"Funny."

"It's true. I mean, I thought you looked great, and you said some things that made me laugh, but yeah, basically I had the same feeling."

"I see." I didn't see. But I wanted to. I felt nervous, I felt that cliff-edge feeling again, I felt that my next words were going to be important. "So... what happens now?"

Ed shrugged, and dropped his voice a few decibels. "Well, we can stay here and talk about how we're going to be soulmates, or we could go back to yours, and have a go at fixing this book of yours, and then talk about how we're going to be soulmates." He was looking at his glass, but I stared at him -- his face wasn't perfect, he couldn't have been a model, it was a little too soft, it lacked that favoured hard shape. But in that moment he was the most beautiful man. The most beautiful. I said I preferred the second option.

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