2016
What a waste of a night that was.
The food, admittedly, was amazing . . . But my enjoyment of it had been severely marred by John's disapproving eyes on me the whole time I was eating.
I need something sweet now.
By all rights, having had a starter, main, and two sides to myself, I should be full to bursting point . . . However, everyone knows you have a secret dessert stomach, and that's currently running on empty and craving sugar. So I ask the taxi driver to pull up at an ice cream shop and wait while I go in to order.
There's so many of those shops these days, aren't there? They've just sprung out of nowhere; it feels like there's at least one on every street in Glasgow now. I'm not complaining, though - my sweet tooth loves it.
I opt for a portion of churros filled with white chocolate and some salted caramel to dip them in. I briefly consider buying some ice cream too, but that seems a bridge too far. If only John could see how strong my willpower really is, I think sarcastically, as I slip back into the taxi for the last few minutes of the ride.
Reflecting again on the disaster of this evening, I decide that it will probably be a while before I attempt dating again. Maybe I'll just give up on it completely; it's not for me. Perhaps I really am, as the Alice Deejay lyrics once proclaimed, better off alone?
I think, not for the first time, of escaping. I've been feeling . . . trapped for a while now. Even before I lost my job and gave up my flat. Just almost claustrophobic with the need to break out of the walls of my current life.
I'm desperate for a change.
The taxi pulls up outside my parent's house, and I trudge up my drive, a memory striking me as I do so of the last time I got out of a taxi here. Nearly seventeen years ago now.
Prom night 1999.
I stop and turn, my eyes drifting to the house across the road. There's an unfamiliar car in the driveway, but the building itself is in darkness.
I take a deep breath, my eyes fluttering closed as I remember how betrayed and heartbroken I had felt that night. It's weird how some memories, even years later, still feel crystal clear. I can take myself back to that moment easily, and I'm in it all over again, with high definition and surround sound.
The enticing smell of my churros snaps me back to the present, and I stuff one in my mouth as I stick my key in the lock. I can hear chatting coming from the living room, and I remember that my mum had said our neighbour - and her best friend - was coming over for a couple of drinks tonight.
My heart sinks a bit. I'm not in the mood for small talk; I've socialised more than enough for today. But seeing Lena Thorne is never easy for me anyway . . . It just brings back painful memories and makes me think about her son.
My thoughts that maybe I can sneak upstairs without being detected are quickly squashed when my mum shouts, "Is that you, Iona? Can you come through?"
Stifling a sigh, I slip another churro into my mouth and walk towards the living room door. "I've just been on the date from hell," I announce as I enter. I'm thinking if my mum and Lena see how knackering my day has been, they won't expect me to hang around.
Instead, the first thing I see is a pair of bright blue eyes burning into mine.
Ryan Thorne.
Oh dear god, what is Ryan doing in my living room?
And why is my mouth full of fucking churro?
I try to swallow it in one go and start choking while my mum, apparently oblivious, says "look who's here!" She gestures across at Ryan like I've suddenly lost the ability of sight. Like he wasn't the very first thing I focused on when I walked through the door.
The churro finally dislodges itself from my windpipe and slips downwards, giving me breathing space and the ability to speak again. "Hi Ryan," I say coolly, forcing a smile. "It's been a while."
His responding smile is tight. "Iona," he nods. "Nice to see you."
"Sit down," Lena says. She seems excited. "Have a glass of wine." There's a spare glass sitting there which makes me wonder if they've been waiting for me to come back.
"Ryan is just down for the night, so Lena brought him over for a catch-up," my mum explains, splashing wine into the glass and passing me it as I sink unwillingly into the armchair opposite Ryan. "He runs a hotel up north."
I know.
I know what the hotel looks like, I practically know its exact coordinates on a map.
I know a surprising amount about Ryan too, especially when you consider I've not spoken to him in seventeen years. Social media can often reveal a lot, even when you're not friends or following each other.
Our gazes lock momentarily again. He always did have the bluest eyes, I find myself thinking. He looks knackered though. Stressed. There's a slight frownline indented between his brows and dark shadows under his eyes.
That being said though, he's still just as handsome as he was back then. Possibly more so, I think unwillingly, my eyes drifting over his short trimmed beard and full lips. Why is it that guys seem to age so well without even trying? In the meantime I'm slathering my face with twenty different kinds of acid each day and wondering how long it will be before I eventually succumb to the stabby lure of botox. It's so unfair.
I last saw Ryan, I estimate, about eight years ago. It was Christmas day and I'd been here for dinner. As I was about to get into my car, he'd pulled up outside and got out. Our eyes had met, recognition lighting up his face. The first contact we'd had since 1999. I'm pretty sure my heart skipped a beat. I thought he was going to come over and see me . . .
Then a beautiful blonde girl got out of the passenger side of his car and tugged on his arm. He threw me a casual wave and walked away with her without a backwards glance.
And it took me about six months to recover from that briefest of interactions.
How long will it take me this time? I can't help but wonder, turning my attention to the wine in my glass. It's taking the edge off my shock.
"Iona, we had an idea." My mum breaks into my thoughts. I look towards her blankly. "We were talking about your redundancy and how you're just temping at the moment."
Oh great, tell Ryan what a loser I am. I bite my lip, feeling myself flush bright red."Oh," I mumble.
"Well, turns out Ryan had just been telling his mum he has a vacancy at his hotel he needs to fill pretty urgently," my mum continues. Hold on, she isn't suggesting . . .? I glance over at Ryan. His lips are set in a thin line.
"We think it would be the perfect fit for you!" Lena exclaims.
"What?" I ask faintly.
"Well, think about it!" My mum is pushing the hard sell on this. She must really want me out of their house. "Your degree is related. You have tons of experience working in hotels. You'll get free board so you'll save some money."
I'll get to escape, I find myself thinking. It's almost tempting but . . .
"And of course you and Ryan are old friends," Lena breaks in, reminding me of exactly why it's not a good idea to even consider this. "So you'll already know someone there!"
She thinks it's a selling point, of course. As far as I'm aware she has no idea we haven't spoken since 1999. I don't reckon Ryan would have told her.
"We need more wine," my mum says. "And maybe some cheese?"
"I'll help." Lena jumps to her feet. "Ryan can tell Iona some more about the job while we do that."
A thick silence falls immediately as soon as they leave the room. I don't want to look at Ryan again. He's clearly been browbeaten into this as much as I have.
So I'm surprised when he stands up and walks towards me.
"The job is yours if you want it," he says. His voice is low and intense. "It's sort of an assistant manager role, basically working under me and making sure everything is kept ticking over. . . Not that there's many staff to manage.
"The girl in the current role is going on maternity leave for a year in a few weeks time. I had someone else lined up but he got a better offer so I'm a bit stuck. I don't really have the time to go through the whole recruitment process and I do know you have lots of experience."
I nod slowly. Trying to process this turn of events.
"Here's the thing though . . ." He trails off thoughtfully and then he looks straight at me. His eyes are steely and that makes me realise the fundamental difference between the young Ryan and this Ryan. He's hardened now. The sweet boy I once knew is probably still in there somewhere but life eventually got to him and he had to toughen up.
"I need someone I can rely on. I don't want to take a person on who just decides it's too much hassle a few days or weeks in and just . . . Ghosts me." He finishes. There's a definite challenge there. He's not just talking about the job.
He's getting a dig in there about the way I disappeared out of his life. As well as implying I'm generally unreliable.
I know he doesn't want me to work with him. But he's also desperate. And having the pressure put on by his mum. And my mum.
And I'm desperate too. Because this, actually, could be my dream job. Or lead to it, at least.
I've always wanted my own hotel. When kids were playing fake shop growing up, I was playing pretend hotel. Welcoming my parents and brother home at night like I was checking them in, and leaving After Eights on their pillows. I usually went in and stole the After Eights for myself afterwards but that's irrelevant. This job could be a stepping stone for me.
And I wanted to get away. A small village in the Highlands would be perfect. This is the exact opportunity I was looking for . . . Minus the fact I'd be working for the boy who once broke my heart.
Can I cope with that? I ask myself.
Ryan broke my heart because he didn't return my feelings. I know this already so I'm going into this with open eyes. We probably will never be friends again like we once were, but I'm sure we can be civil, just like good colleagues should be.
I think I can do this.
Our mums have walked back into the room and are looking at us expectantly.
I nod firmly. "I'll take the job."
Surprise passes over the sharp planes of his face followed by an expression I can't quite work out.
"You can rely on me," I find myself adding.
He turns and walks back to his seat and I'm pretty sure I hear him mumble "I bloody well hope so" under his breath.
I'm already wondering if I've made a huge mistake.
So now we know the identity of both the girl and the boy from the prologue . . . What do we think of Ryan? Has Iona made the right decision to take the job?
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