ONE TO WATCH

Charlie

"You can't!" she said firmly. She began to unpack, crossing her legs on the bed.

"Why not?" he said, turning for the door. "I've crashed plenty a presentation. I might even get up close and personal with the designer. You know, sample the merchandise. Hand out my card."

She shook her head. He was joking. She hoped.

"You don't even know what brand it's for."

"No, but you'll tell me."

"I will, will I?"

He paused at the doorway.

"You will. It's not lingerie, is it?"

"No, it's not."

"Thank goodness." His dark eyes had a naughty boy sparkle to them. "Girls' underwear is the trickiest to sample."

She laughed. "You're very funny. You're not coming."

"We'll see." He placed a hand on the door frame and turned back to look at her. She wondered if he was going to leave now or continue to pursue the question of taking her out. Perhaps it had all been a tease.

His voice dropped almost to a whisper, and he said: "I'll think of something for us to do after?"

Instantly, she felt relief. He was serious. They were going out.

"Okay," she said. "But low key. I'll be tired."

"I get it. I don't party anyway."

"Are you sure?" she grinned.

"One hundred percent."

"I have to trust you, I guess."

"I'll see you there, then? I'll be the one hitting up Marc Jacobs for fashion tips."

"You're not coming to the presentation."

"You've said that."

"I'll see you after?" she smiled. "Is this a date?"

"It's a non-date. Something to look forward to." He tapped the doorframe. She noticed how when he stood straight, he was so tall, his head came close to the top of the frame.

"Ciao" she said.

He smiled and left the room, calling over his shoulder.

"Ciao. Ci vediamo presto."

Later that evening as twilight gave way to darkness, Charlie began to wonder if her conversation with Delyan that morning had meant anything at all.

Would he pick her up after work. Were they going on a "non-date"?

It seemed like hours that she'd been seated on the Grande marble staircase of the villa like a manikin showcasing her wares. Her fellow models like props to the same play were sprinkled around the interior of the villa perched on 18th Century furniture, in equally lifeless poses draped in couture, as photographers and clients flittered about them. She glanced at her watch. They were nearly done. Though grateful Delyan hadn't appeared whilst she was working, she'd spent the entire shift searching for his handsome face among the spectators and was now starting to worry he wasn't coming at all. Her stomach was all a flutter. It had been a long time since she'd felt like this, and she wondered what it could mean. She'd just moved into a house with this man.

Surely going on a date, even if he'd called it a 'non-date', was a dumb thing to do?

When they wrapped for the evening, she checked her phone. There were no messages. Swallowing her disappointment, she got changed into her own clothes. And because she was hungry, she picked up a wrap from the cafeteria and took a few moments to eat by the pool before taking a walk around the building admiring the 1930s architecture. She wanted to appreciate its extensive array of artworks, from Picasso to Mogdialini, they seemed to have all the greats. Finally, she said goodbye to everyone, thanked the organisers of the event, wrapped her coat around her and stepped outside.