Wow! She smiled. Just two days, nineteen hours and forty-seven minutes ago, they were scoping out guys in Bar Dodgem and now here she was, on her date – almost. Meagan was out with her German hottie and tomorrow night even Jemima would dip her toe in the dating pool. It was too perfect, well it would be, the moment Steve showed up. Just as the wait was becoming unbearable and Simi was considering having a fake phone conversation, Steve arrived. Simi watched the maître d’ lead him over. Should she kiss him and if so, would he be a one or two kiss type of guy? Perhaps he was a no-kiss-at-all man. Perhaps, a hug was more appropriate, she panicked as he approached. But a hug or worse, a handshake like they were meeting to discuss a business loan wasn’t what Simi wanted. She wanted lurve.

‘Hello! Apols for being late!’ said Steve giving Simi a gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Apols, Simi recited in her head, immediately warming to him.

‘No worries. You’re a bus driver. I’d expect you to be a bit late – then three of you to turn up at once.’

‘Why’s that?’ Steve asked tucking in his chair.

‘Well because…’ A long way away an imaginary klaxon droned. ‘Never mind.’

Simi ignored the warning sounds and quickly picked up her menu.

As she browsed the list of dishes her eyes lit up. She loved Fez. The romantic snugs, the ornate North African design, the to-die-for food and friendly staff made it a great first-date destination.

‘So,’ said Steve.

‘So,’ said Simi trying to contain her nervous excitement.

She looked at him dreamily. They were on a real world, this-is-not-a-drill date. Meanwhile, across the table, Steve’s head was buried in his menu. Occasionally he’d emit a deep hmmmm.

‘’Scuse me, what’s “Meeeeez”?’ he asked a passing waitress.

She looked at him confused, leaning over his menu.

‘Oh, meze. Small dishes to share.’ She smiled before moving off.

Simi bit her lip then pretended to peruse the mezes… even though she knew them by heart. After a while, she peeked over the top of her faux-leather menu to steal a glance at Steve. He was handsome, his face generous and uncomplicated. Simi noted the tight curls of his deep brown hair which had a little too much product on it, his clean-shaven face and mismatched shirt and tie. He’d obviously made the time to go home and change before meeting her and she appreciated it.

‘So, what made you want to become a bus driver?’ Simi asked breaking the silence.

Steve considered the question.

‘I dunno really.’ He smiled before returning to his menu. ‘Right, think I know what I want.’

He waved over their waiter.

‘I will have,’ he began, while taking a final look through the entire menu for the tenth time, ‘omelette and chips, thank you.’

Simi blinked, her mouth opening and closing as the waiter wrote down Steve’s order.