Chapter Text
She did not want to be here. Blind dates were a vile invention. They bred nothing more than shame and embarrassment and another reminder of failure. Unmarried at thirty eight— it was a wonder she was even allowed to enter her parents' house.
She just hasn't found the right man.
They do not understand that, or care, or wish to know how difficult it is to find someone who is less than totally objectionable. Any man worthy of a moment was snapped up years ago. She is left with the dregs of society. Cryptofreaks or manchildren terrified of commitment. Over the years, she had the displeasure of learning just how many white men found her exotic, just how many brown men found her like their mother, and just how many idiots thought crude sexual remarks equated to flirting. She had tried. She had even entertained a few beyond a fifth date. In her early twenties, one Good Sikh Boy reached the six month mark. But he ultimately revealed himself as a Giant Stinking Bastard. Her parents raised their eyebrows, of course. They sighed and muttered and reminded her that it would only take a phone call for Nani-ji to alert her matchmaking network. If she wished, she could be wed and with child within two years. Or something.
You see, she was beginning to think that she didn't wish it. Not at all. (And by beginning, of course, she means that she has known this for years, but telling her parents may now be truly unavoidable.)
However, it was Polka who had organised this blind date. Polka, who above all else, was trustworthy. Her best friend. They had met at uni, having bonded over shared disinterest in 'the usual things'. They studied together, graduated together (with Firsts, because that was the whole point of education— being the best), and went on to work together at the beginning of their careers. Eventually, Polka found something to love that warmed her bed more than a budget, and Suki was left to the outskirts. Yet, they remained close friends. Suki pretended to care about the difficulties of transitioning from breast milk to formula, and Polka pretended not to notice the gaping absence of activity in Suki's social calendar. Until now, of course.
She insisted that this man (she would not give any details, only that he was a Northerner and would be wearing blue) would match Suki perfectly. How she could possibly feel so confident, Suki did not know, but that was the claim. And there wasn't anything good enough on television to keep her at home.
She still did not want to be here.
She checked the time on her phone. Eleven times. Twenty minutes late. Maybe he saw her and ran. Maybe she scared him. She hoped she scared him. She had chosen a vibrant royal blue blouse, with big sleeves and a high neckline. Cleavage was a third date privilege. Her hair, all curls, she pinned half up, half around her shoulders. It was getting long. Sometimes she thought about getting a bob, but that was ridiculous. Changing her hair after all these years, would be as transformative to her nature as a face tattoo. She would not be able to recognise herself without that full weight pulling at her scalp. She checked her phone again.
"Hi... Hi, sorry— are you my date?"
The accent was Northern alright, and the clothes were as blue as her own but good fucking God that was a woman. A woman . A woman! With short hair and slightly masculine demeanour but unmistakably a woman. Was she her date? Had Polka set her up with a woman ? She tried frantically to recall the exact words her friend had used to describe this supposedly ideal man, and for the life of her she could not be sure that pronouns had been specified at all. "I know someone perfect for you, with a broad Northern accent. You'll recognise each other by both wearing blue." Is that really all Polka had said? Nothing at all that specified a man. But how could she ...
Suki was not much of a drinker. But occasionally, when the mood struck or when disaster or delight encouraged celebration or commiseration, she would partake. A little brandy. Champagne. Shots, if peer pressure was strong enough. She had been totally legless no more than three times in her entire life. One of those times, embarrassingly, had been rather recently. Her birthday. Polka had taken her out. Some other 'friends' accompanied them to fill out the party. Suki hated nightclubs almost as much as she hated the feeling of having wasted her life on pointless things. In order to distract from one indignity, she agreed to suffer the other. Polka's husband took the children to his mother's house for the whole weekend, which facilitated the follow up conversation on the sofabed of Suki's flat, where she lost her whole entire fucking mind for a second.
"Maybe I'm a lesbian."
It would have been fine if she had laughed afterwards. Women said things like that all the time, particularly after complaining about men. But instead of laughing and throwing a pillow, (and she could hear her own voice echoing now so dreadfully drunkenly serious) she continued with "but that would kill my mother." Polka had not said a word in response. At the time, Suki had not even been sure that her sudden burst of insanity had been heard. Though, fuck, if she was now on a date with a woman...
Suki did not like to consider those inebriated words to be a confession. But there must have been a reason for her to say it. Perhaps it was just the build up of so many failed dates, decades of them. Maybe she was losing her attraction to men from sheer overexposure. Because she must have had it, before. She couldn't exactly recall ever being especially interested in any man, but that was probably just their fault. They were boring. Or crass. Or stupid. She has nothing against men as friends, but the moment she ever entertained the possibility of romance, they became... repulsive is too strong a word but—
She couldn't be a lesbian. She would have known by now. She surrounded herself with women all throughout her life. At school she had... The prettiness of certain girls was just a fact. Like how the ugliness or un-remarkability of the boys was a fact. She had absolutely definitely come across handsome and well formed men since. She even slept with some. And it was fine. They were probably just a little bit bad at it. If she brought them to her bed with any intention for them to one day live in her house, maybe it would have been different. They could get practice in. Or something.
There was a woman staring at her.
She could say no. She could go home. She could call Polka and accuse her of terrible terrible jokes. Or—
"I suppose I must be. You're late."
It might be... A laugh, or something. She could cross it off of the bucket list she never wrote. An experience. Just to see. Just to find out what lesbians were up to. It was like being undercover. Maybe she would discover that all dates were nightmares, no matter who you were talking to.
"I'm so sorry to keep you waiting, I got held up with a work thing. The problem with working from home is losing the freedom of being literally out of the office." The stranger sat down, then quickly held out a hand across the table, "I'm Eve, by the way."
Her hand was soft and warm.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Suki."
Eve's smile was lopsided in a way that immediately conjured the word 'adorable' in Suki's mind.
"You look... incredible. I just have to tell you that first, I literally, I know this sounds like such a line, but seriously, when I saw you, I couldn't believe that someone so gorgeous would even be on a blind date."
Suki had heard every line under the sun. Everything from what a fall she must have had from heaven to "did someone order a vindaloo because there's a hot Indian at this table" (surviving that particular date should have awarded her the Victoria Cross). The empty words of an empty heart had failed to entice her for years. Maybe it was just the strangeness of being flirted with by a woman, but the simplicity of being called ‘gorgeous’ brought something like a blush to her cheeks. Of course, this meant she would have to scrounge up something sincere to say about this woman in return. Vague blanket statements of "you don't look too bad either" or words like "handsome" and "dapper", were all she really knew how to wield. None of that seemed an appropriate response to Eve's earnest words. Suki took a moment to appraise her.
Eve was tall and lean. She looked like she went to the gym with intent and out of genuine interest, not just begrudgingly hoping to fight her slowing metabolism (as Suki did). Maybe she even played an actual sport. Short brown hair, light blue (maybe green) eyes, and friendly. Bright. Her face invited where Suki's usually terrified. Maybe it was a lightness about her. The ease of pink lipped smiles. Still, there was substance there. Something memorable beyond the sharp cut of her blazer.
"Thank you. You look— quite striking."
Eve seemed intrigued by the compliment. It was a real compliment, of course. Considering Suki's track record for endless pointless useless dates, being memorable was the highest mark someone could realistically achieve. Though, it would be difficult to forget a woman as her date.
"Can I get you another drink? Before the inevitable back and forth starts."
Suki had been on sparkling water until now. With just a hint of lemon. It was running low so she just asked for the same again. When Eve returned with it (along with a beer for herself), she asked if she ever drank. In the moment, Suki considered saying no. She certainly wished that she had never touched a drop of the evil substance. If she hadn't, her lips would never have loosened so much as to blurt such nonsense to Polka.
Just because she was on a date with a woman right this second, didn't actually mean that she wanted to date women. If anything, it meant she was polite.
"Sometimes. But I thought I should be sober when I saw you."
Eve laughed, soft and low. Her hair was longest around her face, framing it, and she pushed a stray lock back behind her ear. Diamond studs glimmered in her ears. Suki couldn't stop looking at her. Then again, there was little else to look at. But Eve... There was something about her that kept the eye searching.
"What do you do, when you're not being blunt— or perhaps that stands in your favour in the workplace too."
Suki couldn't help a small smile.
"I'm an actuary at a financial institution."
It was a relief to see Eve's immediate comprehension of her words. Too many men had required an explanation, and inevitably misunderstood or became bored by the realities of risk management and statistics.
"So you're the cause of so many of my clients' ills. Unfortunately, I am a solicitor of the most evil kind— property."
Suki inclined her head and raised her glass with an expression as dry as her job description, "why better the world when you can make more money destroying it?"
Eve laughed. Fuck — they were well matched. She had lost count of how many people took her seriously with such a comment. Misunderstanding sarcasm was a solid seventy-two per cent of the reason she was popularly considered to be a bitch. Even at work. Well, bollocks to that then.
"Rest assured, I did have an incredibly moral and noble reason to study law. It's just... Well, not everyone gets to be a pro bono criminal justice prosecutor. Sometimes you come from a modest background and have to work weekends at a small family law practice, until you become too jaded and too poor to risk it all for the chance to maybe, one day , help a single mother successfully sue for sexual harassment."
Suki swirled the ice in her glass, "I can imagine that every first year law student thinks they will vindicate someone wrongly accused of murder. The atmosphere in the actuary and finance course was... less enthusiastic, somehow."
"Somehow!" There it was again, that laugh. It was spirited— genuine. Eve sipped the beer and tilted her head, "what inspired you to pursue it then? A great passion for numbers?"
"Passion may not be the right word but, yeah I mean, I always liked numbers. I was good at maths, and I like logic. Everyone— well, my parents— wanted me to be an accountant. But, being logical , and considering the risks, I chose the path that would pay the best."
"Fair. Very bloody fair. Are all your hobbies logic based then, puzzles and stuff?"
Something about the way her accent thickened over the word 'puzzles', pulled another smile out of Suki.
"I have been known to solve a cryptic crossword or two. And I like to complete a daily Sudoku, Kakuro, and Nonogram. But that's hardly a hobby."
She did the number puzzles over a cappuccino at 11am every work day. On weekends, she woke herself up with a crossword. It helped the morning to pass.
"What about Wordle?"
Suki raised an eyebrow. "I prefer the old fashioned way of things. Paper and silence." But then, after a beat, "Wordle is the exception."
Eve was delighted by this, and went on to list how many apps she had for her great vices— solitaire, chess and Candy Crush. One of these things was decidedly dissimilar to the others, but Suki just let her speak. At some point, during an explanation about her chess adventures, Suki could not help but contribute her own woes in that regard.
"I haven't played in years. My mother loves it, so she forced us all to play, since we were children. And if we could play, then we should compete. I hated being the only girl in the school chess club. Of course, those boys hated me too, because I brought home the trophy."
"The fragility of masculinity, it knows no bounds, truly. What business does a child really have, to be intimidated by the success of another child— just because she doesn't have the same bits as him?"
Suki nodded. It was frustrating, to a point where she barely even allowed herself to consider it anymore. She knew who she was, and she knew what she could do. Whatever burdens that society wished to place upon her for the simple fact of gender, she chose to ignore. She would happily address a problem when it arose, but there was little to be gained from ruminating on the injustices before the fact. A similar approach had pulled her through and far beyond any lazy allegations of being a diversity hire. Office politics sickened her. More people needed to be like her. Just go to work, do your work, and go bloody home again. If she had to listen to Margaret talk about her son doing a PhD in Switzerland one more fucking time—
Not particularly wishing for her anecdote to turn into a discussion on feminism, Suki let silence stretch for the time it took to finish her drink. Then, looking up over the edge of her glass, a totally different question came to mind—
"Do you go to the gym?"
She had been on dates with men who waited for that question. They puffed up their chests and preened over their own biceps as if no one in the world had ever lifted a weight before. Somehow, they all looked like blow up dolls of Popeye. Nothing about their muscles seemed legitimate. Were those men actually strong, or did they just pump air into their flesh? They were pretend people, lacking the substance and meaty reality of being imperfect. Anyway, the last thing she needed was to have someone without a brain, judging her sedentary lifestyle. If she wanted to feel bad about her body, she would just visit her aunt.
Eve smirked. Transferred her beer bottle from one hand to the other, and smirked.
"Well, if you're asking if I have a six pack—"
Suki's breath caught in her throat. That had not been what she was asking not at all oh no —
“I'm joking. But yeah, I like to keep fit. I'm on a five-a-side football team. Just amateur of course, a bit of fun. And there's like… one straight woman, which makes a change from my other hobbies.”
Suki tried to picture Eve running around a football pitch, shouting at the referee for a penalty. It was a rather easy image to conjure.
“I won't pretend to know much about football but, sounds nice. What are those other hobbies then?”
“Well,” Eve tapped on the table lightly, “I read. I like going to the cinema, for everything really, blockbusters, indie whatever. And, ahh, I'm part of a club. A crochet club.”
Laughing seemed like the wrong response, but Suki couldn't help it. Eve joined in, thankfully. Because she wasn't trying to make fun of her, it was— well, it was quite funny. Unexpected.
“And yeah, it is exactly as that sounds. I'm the only person there under sixty-five. We work together sometimes to make a project like patchwork blankets for the local hospice or, whatever. And the rest of the time it's like, just sharing our work. Getting advice on tricky patterns. Chatting about life and stuff. The other women are mostly widows and my lesbianism fascinates them a bit. But, yeah, it's fun.”
“It sounds delightful. Really, Eve. What do you make? Are you working on something right now?”
Suki surprised herself with the sincerity of her interest. Crocheting did sound fun. It would be satisfying to make something from scratch. It must give a lot of the same feeling as she got from cooking, only with a garment or object, it was kept. Used. It was also pleasing to think of Eve surrounded by grandmothers. She was glad that such a group were so accepting. For Eve's sake. She listened intently, as her companion explained her current work on a stuffed dinosaur for her God-son.
They got more drinks. Suki changed to a mocktail and Eve to a 0.0 beer. She held it up with a wink,
“It is fairer, don’t you think?”
“You don’t have to abstain for my sake.”
“Maybe I just want to stay sharp. Commit every detail of you to memory.”
The mocktail was delicious. Conversation turned back to quizzing Suki. She listed some of her interests, and Eve laughed when she mentioned her National Trust membership. Then they spoke about books. Eve liked romance, even the trashy ones. Sapphic romance, specifically. But she balanced it with anything supernatural or science fiction. She had a small collection of comic books too. These were quite a far cry from Suki’s reading priorities. The bookshelves of her flat were filled with crime thrillers, murder mysteries and challenging literary fiction. Some ‘classics’ and nineteenth-century satires made up the rest. They debated the flaws and merits of film adaptations for a while. And talked. And talked.
Suki did not feel the time pass. Before they knew it, the landlady was ringing for last orders, and they had to make a choice. It was late.
“Are you hungry?”
There was a chippy close by, between the pub and the steps down to the tube. Miraculously, the expected crowd of drunks had yet to fill the place out, so Eve managed to quickly get them a bag to share.
“Yes or no to vinegar?”
“Go on then.”
It was like being a teenager. Hanging around in the street, sharing fast food. Well, she had never done that as a teenager, but she saw other people do it. It was as fun as it had looked all those years ago.
They spoke between chips, about nothing really. Actual topics faded and were replaced by whatever happened to pop into their minds. Their favourite foods. Annoying people at work (Eve agreed that Margaret needed to shut the fuck up). Eve tried to explain the plot of Killing Eve after Suki convinced her how unlikely it ever was for her to actually watch it herself. Then, the time having ticked away from them, they found themselves veering back towards the tube. They were still talking, Suki airing (some) of her extensive grievances against theatregoers who used their phones during the performance, as they beeped through the barriers and walked down the first tunnel. The underground passages were like a maze, but as a Londoner (and Eve being an honorary Londoner), the spaces were too familiar to confuse.
Suki checked the time on her phone. Twice. They still had a few moments to spare. She didn’t really want to leave. It had been the perfect date. And with a woman . They stopped walking at a little alcove, off of the main tunnel. Hardly anyone was around. Eve looked at her. So intently. With such… Suki could not tear her eyes from hers. Suddenly, hands were on her face, brushing a curl back behind her ear. And she just kept looking up, and then down to Eve’s lips and up again to her eyes, and…
Suki was kissing a woman.
It wasn't shockingly different, at first. Or at least, it didn't feel strange because the differences were rather good. No rough stubble or beard to contend with. Just smooth, soft, well moisturised skin. Instead of overpowering and aggressive aftershave, Eve wore a delicate musk of earthy botanicals with a citrus zing. And her lips, which had been swiped lightly with tinted lip balm, were soft and warm and welcoming. It felt like… it was good — Suki's heart was beating fast but she could not tell if this was terror (as it ought to be) or the natural result of being well kissed.
If a man kissed her like this (Eve's fingers were lost in her hair as she held her face in both hands and then there was a flick of a tongue and Suki started to wonder if she was literally melting out of existence) she would have sex with him. That was the way she had survived these dates. The man may not be clever, or interesting, or even close to what she would like in a partner, but if he could at least make her feel something , then, well— he earned the privilege of making her feel everything. Even if things were less exciting later. Eve’s chest would not be covered with coarse hair. It would be… it would be like, like soft and pillowy, probably, or something because like… boobs.
Suki was almost jolted out of the kiss by her own embarrassingly juvenile train of thought. What was she, thirteen? Tits, admittedly, sounded worse. Like a joke. Too close to what a ‘lad’ might follow up with a whistle outside a nightclub. Anyway, it didn't matter. Why was she thinking about Eve's chest? (It was, she realised a little belatedly, pressed right up against hers right now. But there were so many layers between them.) There was no reason to even entertain or consider how things could theoretically be between them. And if the mere thought of Eve, a woman, touching her, kissing the rest of her— if that made her tingle the whole way through that was just, just…
When their lips parted, Eve stayed close and breathed heavily. They did not speak. Suki had just been kissed by a woman in a tube station. She could not speak. Fuck. Eve's fingers traced a path down the sides of Suki's face. Gentle. Careful. Suki closed her eyes, letting the sensation overcome her. Pretending, maybe, that nothing out of the ordinary was happening.
“I would like to see you again. There's a bookshop I think you would love. Is a brunch date silly?”
Suki had to step back. They were so close together she could hardly think. She had just kissed a woman. And now she was being asked on another date. With a woman. With Eve. Worst of all— she wanted to say yes. Because a brunch date was exactly the sort of thing she would like. Perusing books and sipping coffee had become one of her great weekend occupations. She just rarely got to do it with another person. Eve understood. She would be a great friend, probably. If only she didn't think this was romantic. If only Suki had not let herself be kissed like that. Maybe she should just tell the truth.
“It sounds— charming. When did you have in mind?”
She would just go on this one little brunch date first. Go to the bookshop, eat avocado toast or something and not kiss Eve again. And then tell her. Those three little words; “sorry, I'm straight.” They could still be friends. Hopefully. But if Eve was angry, or upset, Suki didn't want to miss out on brunch. Oh. Maybe she was a bitch.
“I want to say tomorrow, but that's probably ridiculous. Next Saturday instead?”
Avoiding the other woman's eyes, Suki clasped her hands together to consider. If they did it tomorrow, maybe no one would ever have to know. Even Polka. Fuck— Polka! She would ask how the date went and, oh and if Eve told her the lie… oh shit, shit , okay—
“Tomorrow works. I mean, we have momentum. There's no point in wasting time.”
Eve laughed, reached for Suki's hand and squeezed it softly. “Upholding the time honoured lesbian tradition of moving quickly, I like it. Should we stop by a farmer's market too?”
It was unnerving. Scary, to hear anything she did being described as ‘a lesbian thing’. Kissing Eve was something she had done and was very much something a lesbian would do, fair, but what was so gay about organic vegetables? She went to the farmers market every week for seasonal produce. She just wanted to support small businesses and British agriculture. She refused to be put off by this. Purple stem broccoli was worth the false allegations of homosexuality.
“Well… I do have to collect my weekly order of free range eggs—”
“God, you're adorable .”
Eve's face had scrunched into something that was a cross between giggling and doe-eyes. ‘Adorable’ is not something Suki is frequently, or really ever, called. Yet somehow, when Eve said the word, Suki felt it. Like maybe there was something sweet about her. Everyone else (herself included), saw the sharpness. The hardness of a boring person in a boring job, who snapped with constant sarcasm. She was considered fiery. Even mean, sometimes, when all she had actually done was speak her mind. But somehow, Eve thought she was adorable.
“You really like me.”
It was a whisper, and it escaped her almost without her notice. The guilt was eating her up. Here she was, leading this kind and caring woman down the garden path, with no intention of following through. And for what? Why didn't she just explain the misunderstanding at the beginning? It was cruel to drag her along, with promises of hand holding between bookshelves. Or whatever.
Fuck— they were already holding hands.
Suki pulled her fingers out from Eve's hold, breathing heavily. The other woman let her, stood still and calm while Suki's panic only mounted higher and higher.
“I do like you. Of course I do. But nothing needs to— we don't have to go at any particular pace. I'd just like to see where this goes, if it goes anywhere. Honestly, I still can't believe Stacey found someone so… perfect.”
Being referred to as ‘perfect’ and the soft tone Eve took while speaking about taking things slow, was almost enough to distract Suki from the other thing. Almost, but not quite.
“Stacey?”
Who the fuck is Stacey?
“Yeah. She's been trying to set me up with someone for months. Really, I only agreed to shut her up but— well, she has better taste in women for me than men for herself!”
Realisation crawled up her back like a spider.
“Stacey organised this, not Polka.”
“Polka? Like the dots?”
Shit. Oh this was— actually , this was ideal.
“I think we might have gone on the wrong date.”
She had probably just been stood up. By a man . The logical bloody conclusion in the first place. And she called herself an actuary.
“That's, that's actually hilarious. Oh— oh shit I hope whoever I was actually supposed to be with didn't just, Stace will kill me—”
They laughed together, and maybe it was the relief of having some of the weight removed, but Suki felt strangely brave. A tiny bit flirty, even. She shifted her weight onto her back foot and tilted her head.
“I know why I assumed you were my date, northern and wearing blue, but what were you looking for when you found me? You can tell me— if I was just the first Asian woman you saw, I promise, I won't be offended.”
Eve dipped her head, smiling wide but a little sheepish. “Sort of the opposite— all I knew was to look for a femme with a great head of curly black hair. And that she was very beautiful.”
Why did everything Eve said have to sound so incredibly earnest? Her face was so honest, and each compliment melted Suki a little bit more. She couldn't even begin to think what it meant that she was being assigned yet another gay identifier, when she was being described as beautiful . Gorgeous, adorable and beautiful. Is that all it took for her? Surely a man had used those words before. And it wasn't as though she had low self esteem. She knows damn well what she looks like, and she likes it. She knows what it was to feel wanted and admired for her physical appearance. There was just something else, with Eve. More behind her words, somehow. As if it was more than the outside of her, that she desired.
“You've been complimenting me all night. At this rate, there'll be nothing to say tomorrow.”
It was supposed to be a joke, a light statement, but then Eve's hands were on Suki's waist. There were layers between them, a coat and a blouse and the waistband of her jeans, but it still felt electric .
“I could never run out of compliments for you, Suki. And I can't wait for our second date.”
They were so close together again and, God why the hell were they doing this in a tunnel to the tube stop, but their little corner was just private enough and oh, oh , Suki found herself reaching up, holding on to Eve's shoulders like, like, as if—
This kiss was shorter. And initiated by Suki. Like an idiot . There had just been something in Eve's eyes, or maybe, it was just— fuck it. Maybe she didn't need an excuse. Maybe she was mad. Maybe…
Maybe she does date women now. Or she dates Eve. As of tomorrow, that will be it, won't it? She will be ‘dating Eve’. It was terrifying. A thousand fears spun around her mind. What would people say? Was it even possible that she might really be a lesbian, like… all along? She could be bisexual though, probably. Unless of course, there was a very big reason why her romances with men failed so spectacularly.
“I— I didn't even get your number.”
“Oh, yeah.”
They exchanged numbers (Eve put ‘northern, wore blue’ in the comment part of the contact form) and somehow, eventually, tore themselves away from one another. Suki could not think about anything else, for the whole train journey. When she got above ground again, her phone jumped to life. Five missed calls from Polka. And a text from Eve.
I had such a great time tonight 💖 We should probably meet at the bookshop at around 11? I'll drop the location below.
Suki clicked on the link to open in Google Maps. It wouldn't take her more than 40 minutes to get there tomorrow.
Great, I'll see you then.
She watched the message send, and be marked as delivered. Then, after a moment added,
I had a lovely time too xx
Was two kisses excessive? Or was one cold? Did women have higher expectations in that regard? Probably. What if Eve wanted them to have sex?
Shutting down that line of thought very quickly, Suki concentrated on the short walk to her flat. Logic abandoned her today, for the first time really. Never before could she recall being so adrift. So unsure of herself and led so much by emotions. Her very reputation hinged on her assumed lack of emotion. And yet, maybe she had always been this way. Yearning for feeling. Eve made her feel so much, even if some of it was confusion.
She plopped her handbag down on the table, collapsed onto the sofa and finally accepted that she would actually have to call Polka back.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah? Why, is there something—”
“Is there something?!! I sent you on a blind date, which okay fine didn't work out because he was sick, but then I thought you'd tell me! I get a text fucking… hours after the supposed meet explaining what happened, and when I call you, you don't respond! Where were you? A woman alone at night, anything could have happened!”
Unfortunately, Polka was right. But Suki didn't want to give her the satisfaction.
“If my life could be endangered by solo encounters with strange men at night, then why did you want me to go?”
“James is not exactly a strange man, he did that group project with us for Applied Financial Risk Modelling in second year.”
“You were setting me up with James Walker? Didn't he get married?”
“Well he's divorced now, and he always fancied you. It doesn't matter, why couldn't I reach you?”
She could lie. Actually, she definitely would lie, but she could do so about multiple things.
“I was on a date.”
Silence before, “James has the flu.”
“Lots of people go to that pub. When he didn't turn up, someone else did.”
“Seriously? You picked someone up at the pub?”
“You make it sound so seedy. We just had a conversation.”
“A conversation that lasted well into the night. Is he still there?”
“I didn't bring anyone home! As I said, it was a conversation.”
“Okay. Will you see him again? I just want you to be happy, Suki. And I know you can be happy without a boyfriend, but, well, I'd like to see you give it a go.”
“I… thanks. But, yeah. Well, another date has been arranged.”
“Good! Oh, that's so good. I'll tell James to piss off, don't worry. But I want to hear all about mystery man. Are you free for a catch up in the morning?”
“Oh. No actually. That's the date.”
“In the morning?”
“For brunch.”
“Well, he sounds different to go for that. Not your usual type, if you even have a type aside from useless.”
“May I remind you that you tried to set me up with James Walker with the claim that he would be ‘perfect for me’? A robot with a receding hairline.”
“Fine. I still think he is better now though. His ex warmed him up.”
“I literally told you that I found my own date and you still talk about that man— you're worse than my parents.”
“On that sombre note, goodnight. I'll call again tomorrow night though, I've got a lot of questions.”
“Which I am far from obliged to answer. But sure. Chat then, bye P.”
“Love ya, Suks!”
The call clicked off. When Suki looked at her phone again, there was another text from Eve. A gif of someone exploding with rage, and a message reading;
you when someone texts during a musical
Suki just stared at it, unable to do anything but smile. Beam. She needed to sleep. But in a way, she was afraid of sleeping. Actually, she knew she wouldn’t. It was too difficult to sleep when Eve was in her mind. A woman. It wasn’t even that it felt wrong, it was— it was just… How could this be who she is?
You are hilarious. She finally managed to type. Seconds later,
I know! Goodnight, sleep tight xxx
Goodnight.
xxx
Tomorrow— she will go on an intentional date with a woman, for the first time. She will probably kiss a woman, for the third time. And maybe… just maybe— she might find out who she is.