Call My Bluff | NaNoWriMo

Chapter One | If his name starts with J

A viral tweet is the only thing on my mind as I browse this tinder profile. Jerrry, with three Rs, not to be confused with Jerry with two Rs, is holding one of those massive fish on some fishing trip. It's the next photo that is a big red flag. He is cropped to the side in some suit but I can still see the hand on his shoulder with bright red nail polish. I am sure his excuse will be something about a sister or cousin, but then just show the whole picture. Honestly, if I saw that tweet now, this profile would be perfect to add. He is the definition of 'if his name starts with J, run sis' so I already knew I will be swiping left.

I ignore the notifications from WhatsApp, as I move to the next profile. I adjust my red blanket, shifting to reach for the TV remote to skip the intro of FRIENDS which is playing in the background on Netflix. Tonight would be the perfect night for a cosy date, with the chilly weather making room for some snuggling.

I sigh.

Back to the drawing board, I swipe left on the next profile just based on the hookup demand in his bio. I'm just trying to find love or at least a snuggle buddy this winter. I hear my neighbour rummaging in their cupboards on the wall behind my television. I already know what's gonna happen next, but my pursuit of love was far more important. That is why I swipe left on the next ten profiles without reading them because, with my luck, the chances of them being the one are low.

Another WhatsApp notification comes through, which I still don't open. I roll my eyes. I knew exactly what the outcome would be when I received the first message. I groan at the sound of someone knocking on my door a few minutes later, as I predicted. I push off my red blanket and press pause on the remote before going to the door. Henry is waiting on the other side of the door, shivering slightly, in his t-shirt and grey jogging bottoms.

"I'm sorry, Evelyn," Henry apologises before I even have the door fully open. The cold air hits my face, making me wish I had not left my blanket on the sofa. I step back, allowing him to come inside, and for me to stop my heat from leaving. His hands are curled up in his pockets as he steps inside. He should've put a jumper on before coming next door since I don't exactly wait at my door to open it for people. Central heating isn't for free and we are yet to experience the coldest nights of winter.

"Are you sorry enough to buy the brown sugar?" I reply, not bothering with the polite conventional greeting. We stop beating around the bush a long time ago. Without fail, every single time Henry has a certain friend over, he comes to ask for my brown sugar. I had a few months of peace when I gifted him a packet for Christmas last year.

"You had to buy it back the next day last time we did that." Henry leans against the shut door, as I go to the kitchen part of my flat to get my brown sugar. He rubs his arms to warm up. My brown sugar is in a set of red tea, coffee and sugar jars that I bought when I first moved in three years ago.

I hand him the red jar, "Well maybe one day I won't be here and you will be forced to serve your friend tea with white sugar instead,"

"I'm afraid he will end our friendship and sue me for poisoning him," Henry raises his voice, knowing his friend might be able to hear him. The pause and sound of laughter give us an indication that they did in fact hear him. His friend was a drama queen that I never met and did not plan to meet. It did not matter. Henry was a welcome distraction from my failing dating life.

"Maybe it is better than joining hospitality classes." I never met this friend of Henry's but I knew whenever he is in town. There was a time when I was not home and Henry did use white sugar. The next day he got an email for hospitality classes that his friend signed him up for. I did not expect the man to go that far.

"Oh wait, I need to use those skills. What did I disturb you from madam?" He fake bowed at the end, like a butler on a tv show. All that was missing was the uniform. He attended those classes in good humour and now knew how to fold napkins like swans. He made sure to show me. I am not sure where those skills will be used.

"A night of comfort and searching for the one." I unlock my phone and turn it to show him my screen with Tinder. Henry was well aware of my dating history since I need someone to make sure that I had not been kidnapped while I was on a date with the many eligible bachelors in our area.

"I don't think David is the one. Maybe you can join us next door for a night of fun," he suggests, glancing down at my phone to read the name of my current match. This is not the first time and it would probably not be the last time Henry invites me to join his friends. I always decline. There is nothing more awkward than spending the night knowing one person in a close-knit group of friends who have years worth of inside jokes and stories to share between them. Especially, when I know I could home within seconds and avoid it all. Sometimes it is better to keep our worlds apart so it does not become messy.

"I am not dressed for such an occasion." I gesture to my fluffy pyjamas and fuzzy slipper socks. My excuse is weak and we both knew it. When I got home from work, the first thing I did was shower and get into something comfortable. Work is tiring and year-end burnout is slowly starting to set in. Sometimes a quiet night in is the best type of might.

"I still think David is not the one, are you sure you don't want to join us?" Henry asks again, giving me a second chance to change my mind. I don't. He is right though, I will be swiping left on David's profile. However, I will probably move out of this building before I join him next door. I don't tell him this since he is always friendly enough to extend invites to me and warn me of any noisy evenings in advance.

"Poker night with the lads isn't high up on my bucket list," I joke. Poker was one of the few things they did, I saw the remnants of the night more often when I would go to get my brown sugar back when Henry still had it.

"It's still on the list," he teases.

"The list doesn't exist, Henry, much like my need to learn how to play poker." I roll my eyes.

"You are just telling me that. I think we should just check your notes app to be sure that you don't have a bucket list." He is right and wrong too. I used to have a bucket list, for another lifetime, and it was on my notes app. I stop making lists on my notes app past the essential ones like shopping lists a long time ago and the bucket list got deleted too with good reason.

"I will let you check, if you promise to buy everything on my wishlist," I barter. My wishlist consists of everything I ever felt like owning for no reason. Some of the items I could only dream of affording since the prices were extortionate. I want my own private island. I don't think I would be able to afford it even if I started working as a toddler until retirement.

"Oh, what's that? I think that kettle is done and I need to go make tea." Henry pretends to hear his kettle stop boiling. He would be able to hear that if he pressed his ear against the wall and if his friends were not making noise, to be honest.

"How convenient for you. I will see you tomorrow." There is some truth in it as we could carry on talking for hours and his friends will be left waiting for tea. We hug before he leaves. He strokes my back because of the soft material a few times before letting go. I step away from the door, so I don't get another blast of cold.

"No takebacks," he warns, before leaving quickly, shutting the door behind him, giving me no chance to reply. Last time he was the one who was unable to get out of bed when I went to get my brown sugar back and he knows it.

I return back to the sofa, to my comfortable position, before I was disturbed and pressed play to Netflix. I go back to swiping left on all the matches on Tinder. Nothing catches my eye, it is like I have gone through all these profiles before as they slowly blur together as my attention switches between swiping and watching tv. The night is shaping up to be an ideal quiet and restful evening I need to recover from the rough week at work as I sunk deeper into my sofa.

I am the picture of peace.

I am the picture of comfortable.

I am the picture of cosy.

I spoke too soon as I sat up at the sight of the notifications from Ava.

Wedding.pdf and 11 minutes and 3-second voice note. 

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