Making Love

Chapter Two

“Look, just let it go,” I suggested. “If it’s meant to be, it will be.”

“Let me give you his number.”

“Katie, no. If he’s interested, he’ll find me.”

“Men aren’t the only ones who can be proactive, Elle. We did not go through suffrage and another 100 years of equality campaigning for you to leave it all to the guy, you know.”

“I know, I know. It’s just hard, you know, facing rejection?” She knew just which buttons to press.

“And you think it isn’t hard for men?”

“No, I don’t. I’m just a coward, I guess.”

Katie scoffed. “Oh, come on, I’m not asking you to propose to the guy, just send him a text. If he likes you, he’ll reply and maybe something with come of it. If he doesn’t like you, then you’ll have your answer.”

“I think I already have my answer,” I admitted.

“Oh, Elle, nothing ventured, nothing gained, isn’t that what you tell me?”

She was right, I was more of a seize the day kind of girl. In fact, I have Carpe Diem tattooed on the inside of my left wrist. It was tiny, but it served as a daily reminded that I couldn’t let my insecurities get the better of me.

“Okay, what’s his number?”

She gave it to me, then we made small talk for another ten minutes until she hung up. I then gazed at the phone number for a few minutes, as if it was some ominous portent of impending doom.

“Don’t be an idiot, you already feel rejected, so the worst that can happen is that you know you’ve been rejected. False hope never did anyone any good.”

I traced my tattoo with the thumb of my right hand, drawing strength from it. Katie had once said that the way I used it mirrored some neuro linguistic programming techniques.

Before I could think myself out of it, I grabbed my mobile and composed a text.

‘Hi. Katie gave me your number. Sorry our meeting was cut short and I hope it was nothing serious. Elle xx’

I debated about the kisses, but I always sign a text with them, usually three though. I eventually decided to delete all but one x and sent the message. I almost hoped I didn’t hear anything; if I was this neurotic after one meeting, I couldn’t imagine how insane dating him might make me.

I resolutely decided to put it out of my mind and returned to my work; I was mocking up some concept sketches for a children’s book.

My phone rang but the number said withheld, so I presumed it was a work call. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one working on Saturday.

“Hello?” I answered, sounding like a chipper illustrator, whatever that is.

“Elle, is that you?”

My stylus flew over my graphics tablet, leaving an ugly line through Henry the Hedgehog’s concept sketch.

“Shit!” I cried as a reflex. “Oh God, I’m sorry, I’m not swearing at you, I just put a line right through my drawing. Gimme a second.”

Undo is a lifesaver and once I had undone the catastrophe, I saved my work and took those few seconds to calm down.

“Sorry, Tom. Yes, this is Elle. You just took me by surprise.”

“I’m sorry, I should have texted you but when I got your message, I was just so pleased to hear from you.”

As great as that was to hear, my number wasn’t exactly a national secret, so he couldn’t have wanted to speak to me that badly.