No Reservations (A Romantic Comedy)

Chapter 28

2016

Since Ryan left me, with the enticing vow of later sparkling in his eyes, I've been extremely busy getting myself ready.

I've de-fuzzed and excessively moisturised pretty much every part of my body, and now I'm surveying the contents of my underwear drawer to decide what to wear in case I'm getting lucky.

This is when I realise for sure that I'd always harboured the tiniest bit of hope that I'd reach this point with Ryan.

Because otherwise I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have bought that pretty deep purple balconette bra with matching knickers when I went on that last shopping spree in Glasgow. I'd actually forgotten I'd even bought them.

Oh, and I may also have bought a sexy little slip dress in a paler purple shade.

And there might be a box of Durex in there too.

Yep, it seems I had wanted to be prepared. What can I say, I used to be a Girl Guide. Although I'm fairly sure the "be prepared" motto refers to making sure one always has, say, a compass, on them as opposed to a . . . condom. To be fair though, I wasn't actually a Guide for very long and it was quite a while ago ago - maybe the rules have changed?

For the first time in a long time though, I'm pretty delighted with past Iona's actions. I snip the price tags off the underwear and put it on, posing in front of the mirror. It looks good. I actually feel confident in my own skin today. It's nice. Empowering. I add the slip, then cover myself up with my fluffy dressing gown. Ryan will have no idea what lies underneath. My whole body tingles in anticipation at the thought.

I actually still have some time to spare so I log into Spotify and pull up a 90s playlist, choosing the shuffle option. It seems fitting that whatever happens tonight is accompanied by a 90s soundtrack, given that was the last time me and Ryan were in harmony like this. "Lovefool" by The Cardigans blasts out of my laptop.

That song, in particular, seems appropriate.

I sit in the centre of my freshly made bed, and chew on my bottom lip anxiously as I wait for him. The minutes stretch unbearably. And the longer they extend, the more nervous I get.

By the time there's a knock at my door, I'm pretty sure I'm close to a panic attack and "Friday I'm In Love" is playing. Which, once again, seems apt, given it's Friday and I am.

(Honestly, Ryan wasn't wrong . . . Who is writing my life???)

I open the door with a modicum more decorum than I did a few nights before when I thought he was a potential serial killer, so Ryan doesn't get a fright this time. But I can see he looks nervous too. He's still wearing his smart work clothes (remember that shirt that matches his eye colour exactly? Sigh.) which tells me he needed to come to me as soon as he could, and that just makes me want him even more.

"Hey," he says, running a hand through his hair and inadvertently mussing it up. His cheekbones have pinkened adorably. "Sorry I'm a bit later than planned; turns out I had a bit more to say to Martin than I thought."

Oh dear.

He grazes a kiss against my cheek, setting my flesh on fire, and I step to the side to let him in. "What happened?" I ask, almost glad to have a temporary distraction from whatever is about to take place. To calm my racing heart down even a little.

Even if it's Martin who is the distraction. Urgh.

Ryan shrugs nonchalantly. "I told him I knew that he'd fucked things up between us at prom, and about the lies he'd told. Obviously, he tried to deny it and twist things."