The Celeb Next Door (11 page)

He stops talking for a second, and laughs. ‘Hey, you’ve got sauce on your chin.’

‘Oh, whoops!’

‘Come here, you …’

Oh no, he’s picked up his napkin and now he’s leaning over and, before I can stop him, he’s wiping my chin for me.

‘You’re just like a baby,’ he teases. ‘So cute.’

No! No! No!

‘I’m just super-messy, clumsy, a real klutz. You can’t take me anywhere.’

‘No, you’re all right.’ He laughs. ‘I’ll just buy you a bib for next time.’

I cringe – invisibly, I hope. I still don’t know if I want there to be a next time.

All evening, I’ve been compiling a list in my mind, a chart of pros and cons for going out with Max. So far what I’ve come up with is this:

Pros:

–
He’s so chivalrous
.

–
OK, so he’s not my usual type, but he’s kind of cute. He has nice eyes and full, soft-looking lips
.

–
We have so much fun together and I can talk about stuff with him. He’s probably the best guy friend I’ve ever had
.

–
He is Rufus Justice’s brother, etc, etc
.

Cons:

–
When he’s talking and he looks into my eyes and I have to do the same back, because looking away would be rude, instead of feeling all gooey, I find myself wondering if he’s got better eyelashes than mine, and if that’s a bit of sleep I can see there, in the corner
.

–
He’s not my type. I prefer blue eyes, and his are brown. And his mouth is too big for a boy, almost girlish
.

–
I’m not sure I really want a boyfriend right now
.

–
Going out with him would make things difficult with Vix. It already has
.

Poor Max has no idea that by the end of the night he might have failed an exam he doesn’t know he’s taking. Right now, he looks really excited because the waiter has just brought the dessert menus, and his eyes are as big and round as the scoops of ice cream he’s about to savour. He can’t decide what he wants, so he plumps for four different flavours, topped with chocolate sprinkles and strawberry sauce. I’ve tried everything on the menu before – I’ve been here so many times – so I just have a scoop of Belgian chocolate and, even though it doesn’t really go, some melon sorbet on the side. It’s so fruity I’m sure it must count as one of my five a day. Mum would be proud.

‘Wow,’ says Max, several times. And, ‘Mmm.’

But it soon becomes clear that, despite an impressive effort, he can’t finish his ice cream. In fact, he’s beginning to look distinctly queasy.

‘Want to help me polish it off?’ he says, eventually. He holds out his spoon to me, expectantly. I think he actually wants to feed it to me himself.

‘Oh, no, I couldn’t,’ I say. ‘Too much pasta.’ And it doesn’t look that appetising to be honest. All the flavours have melted together with the sauce and sprinkles into a big, soupy mess. ‘You finish it. It looks so great, you shouldn’t waste a drop.’

If there’s one thing I know about boys, it’s that they don’t ever like to be defeated, even by food. Max plunges his spoon back into his bowl and shovels some more of the
gloop into his mouth. ‘Mmm,’ he says, unconvincingly. ‘Mmmm. Mmmm.’A few moments later, he puts down his spoon and groans. ‘I can’t. I think I feel a bit sick now.’

This could be good news. Obviously, I don’t want him to feel ill. But, hopefully, it means he won’t feel up to trying to kiss me goodnight. I don’t think I’m ready for that.

‘Do you want a coffee?’ he asks. ‘I don’t think I can eat or drink another thing.’

‘Nah, me neither.’

He asks for the bill and I insist on paying half, even though he says I really don’t have to, as it’s his treat. But it wouldn’t be right to let him.

‘How about a walk on Primrose Hill? I’m sure I’ll feel better if I have some fresh air.’

‘Um … ’ I’m not stupid. I know that going for a stroll on Primrose Hill at night (even though it’s still light) equals a romantic walk for two. Unless you’re taking your dog, that is. ‘I don’t know. I think it’s a bit late.’

He looks at his watch. ‘It’s only eight-thirty!’

‘I said I’d be home by nine.’This is a lie. What I actually said was, ‘See you later.’

‘Well, you can text your parents. I’m sure they won’t mind if you’re half an hour late.’

‘No, really, I’m a bit tired. I think we should head back. Sorry.’

‘That’s OK,’ he says. ‘Next time.’

He loops his arm through mine, which is fine because I do that with all my friends, and we set off on our walk home. Neither of us talks much: me because I’m deep in thought, him because, I guess, he’s still feeling sick.

We stop outside my front door. ‘Thank you so much,’ he says, dropping my arm and turning to face me.‘I’ve had such a fab evening.’

‘Me too,’ I say. I’m not lying. It hasn’t been as weird as I thought it might be. ‘Thank you.’

He puts his hands on my shoulders and leans in towards me. My stomach tightens and I now know with one hundred per cent certainty that I don’t want him to kiss me. I offer him my cheek, instead, and he plants a slightly wet smacker on it.

‘Goodnight, Rosie,’ he says, smiling. I’m relieved. Maybe he’s too much of a gentleman to expect a proper kiss on the first date. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’

I watch him walk away and let himself into Rufus’s house. Before I go inside my own house, I stand on the doorstep and look out at my street. Dusk is settling now, but the street lights have not yet come on. Out of the corner of my eye, I think I can see Vix, peeking through a crack in her bedroom curtains. I turn to look properly but, if she was ever there, she’s gone.

W
hen I say I’ve known Vix for ever, I mean
for ever
. She moved into the street when I was two, so I can’t remember a time when we weren’t friends. We went to nursery together, to Brownies, to primary school, and then secondary school. We hung out at the same youth club. We had so much fun. Our families went on holiday together. We even started our periods in the same week. I wouldn’t ever want to have to choose between Vix and Sky – they’re both my absolute best friends – but if you stuck a gun in my face (which has been known to happen in Camden’s edgier streets, although probably not for this reason) and said you’d kill me unless I picked
just one of them, I’d pick Vix. Just because.

That’s why it hurts so much that she’s off with me.

Unlike Sky, who’s on the phone at ten a.m. sharp, digging for details, Vix doesn’t call me to find out about the date. That isn’t surprising, really. If it went well, she won’t want to know. If it didn’t, she’ll feel smug and think it was my own fault – although she’d be too sweet to say it. The problem is, I can’t win: if I don’t call her and tell her all about it, she’ll be upset too, because then she’ll think I’m avoiding her.

So, I pick up the phone and call. She lets it ring longer than she usually does, although she might just be in the loo.

‘Hey,’ she says. ‘So you’re back then.’

It’s a weird thing to say. The date was last night. Did she think I was going to sleep at Marine Ices?

‘Yeah, course. How are you? How was your evening?’

‘Fine,’ she says. ‘I stayed in. Didn’t
feel
like going out in the end.’

I know this is a dig at me, but I don’t rise to it. ‘Oh right.’There’s a silence. ‘I just rang to say hi, really.’

‘So how did it go then?’

‘OK, fine, well. It was nice.’

‘And?’

‘And I like him, I really do. But . . .’ I hesitate, wondering whether I should say this to her. ‘I’m still not sure if I fancy him. I think I might just need to go out with him one more time to make my mind up.’

‘Trust me,’ she says. ‘You don’t.’

‘I don’t need to go out with him one more time to know?’

‘No, you don’t fancy him.’

Ouch. If I were a bitchy person, which I’m not – at least I hope I’m not – I could say something along the lines of: ‘You’ve never had a boyfriend so how would you even know?’ But I don’t. Instead, I say, You really can’t say that, Vix.’

‘Why? It’s pretty obvious. And I don’t like that you’re messing him around. It’s not fair.’

‘I’m not lying to him.’

‘Nah, just to yourself.’

I was hoping she might have thawed a bit. Instead, she seems even more annoyed with me.‘I think we should talk about this later,’ I say. ‘Face to face.’

‘If you want. Come over. But I’m not going to say anything different.’ She hangs up. I stare at the phone for a minute or so, wondering if I should call her back. I feel sad and empty.

Of course we’ve fallen out before, briefly, over stupid things. I remember the time when we were twelve and we saw this jacket in Miss Selfridge at exactly the same moment – in the days before we bought most of our clothes at the market – and we both fell in love with it. It came in two colourways: blue and black, and red and black. Neither of us could afford it.

The following week, it was my birthday, so I asked Mum and Dad if I could have it for a present – the red and black one. I was so pleased with that jacket, I wore it home from the shop. Then, a few days later, without warning, Vix bought it too, in the blue and black. She didn’t seem to think it was a problem.

‘It’s not the same,’ she said. ‘Mine is blue and yours is red. It’s not a big deal.’

But I thought we looked so stupid, going out together in our matching jackets, that, even though I adored mine, I ended up putting it to the back of the wardrobe. Vix always claimed she had a right to buy it because she saw it first but, if she did, it was by milliseconds. We didn’t talk for three days.

But we’ve never fallen out over a boy. I don’t want her to stop talking to me again, especially as I know this is something far more serious and important than a stupid jacket.

My phone is ringing. It’s Max. I take a deep breath before I pick up. I’ve been thinking all morning what I should say to him if he calls. I still haven’t decided. I was hoping he’d call later. To be honest, I was hoping he’d message me. Or better still, text.

He sounds a bit nervous. ‘Hey, Rosie, how are you? I had a great night.’

‘Good, thanks. Me too. How are you?’

‘I’m super,’ he says. ‘Listen, I know it’s short notice, but do you want to come round here for dinner? Tonight?
Rufus asked me to ask you.’

‘Tonight?’

‘Yeah. There’s going to be six other people. Jon, the bassist from Fieldstar, and his girlfriend, Anna, Rob, the lead singer and his girlfriend, Julie, and Simon, the lead guitarist, with Karen. Oh, plus Rufus and Isabella, of course.’

‘Cool,’ I say, trying not to betray just how excited I am. Dinner at Rufus’s was fantastic enough, but this is a Proper. Celebrity. Dinner. I have a vague recollection that I’m supposed to be meeting up with Sky andVix tonight, some clothes-swapping thing arranged yonks ago, but they’ll understand. It’s not every day you get to have dinner with the whole of Fieldstar! I’m going to meet them all at last! And how brilliant that Rufus wants me to come round
again
. I wonder what Isabella will cook this time? Ooh, I hope she does those melting chocolate puddings for dessert …

And then it hits me. Everybody there, except for me and Max, will be in a couple. I think he thinks I’m his girlfriend now. I think
Rufus
thinks I’m Max’s girlfriend now. How to put this? ‘Er, all couples?’

‘Yeah, that’s OK, isn’t it?’

Is he asking me if I’m OK with being a couple, or just if I don’t mind that the others are?

‘I guess so,’ I say, but I’m not sure which question I’m answering.

‘It’ll be like a quadruple date kind of thing. Obviously,
I’d rather go out with you alone for our second date but Rufus really wants you to come. We can go out on our own another time.’

‘Sure, why not?’

Maybe it’s not so bad. I was planning on a second tester date soon, wasn’t I? And, this way, I won’t have to be alone with Max if I finally decide I’m not interested. Maybe being around the whole of Fieldstar will rub off on him and he’ll suddenly seem super attractive to me. It could be just what we need to kickstart things.