Friday 12 January 2018

I stood in front of the mirror on Friday night appraising my appearance. I wore black skinny jeans and a red cold-shoulder top I’d purchased in the week. Everything off the sale rack. The red looked great against the platinum blonde and Ben’s expression made the splurge worth every penny.

‘Not so bad out of my PJs, eh?’ I said, striking a pose.

‘You look great. Where are you off to?’ His eyes narrowed.

‘Just out.’ I added, ‘I have a date.’ There was no harm in the telling the truth, Ben was still seeing Amy and our relationship was firmly back on the platonic side.

‘Be careful,’ Ben said, which irked me. Why couldn’t he have said ‘have fun’ or ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’, but I knew he was looking out for me.

The closer I got to the gym, the more my flesh crawled. I was much more comfortable being outside. But no matter how many times I walked the streets in the dark, I still felt vulnerable and exposed. As I approached the red-brick building, I could see Ian stood underneath the neon Pulse sign. He looked smart in a shirt and jeans, his hair full of wax and styled like I’d not seen it before. I didn’t get it. He was good-looking; surely, he didn’t struggle to get a date? Why did he need to attack women to get his kicks? Didn’t they say something similar about Ted Bundy too?

‘You look gorgeous,’ he said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. He exuded confidence, which intimidated me straight away.

‘As do you.’ I could do this. Relax, just be yourself, your best self. Go with the flow.

Ian led me to Mangos, a wine bar, and selected a table at the back with high stools, away from the speakers. Everything was silver and black, it reminded me of a dominatrix’s boudoir rather than a bar. Ian went to get our drinks and returned with two mojitos, without asking me what I wanted. Did men truly believe women liked having their choice made for them? Egotistical bastards. I certainly didn’t, but I smiled sweetly on his return and sipped at the cocktail. I couldn’t deny it was nice, but it wasn’t what I would have chosen. Ian settled into his seat, looking pleased with himself. My hero.

‘Where did you go over Christmas; were you visiting family?’ I asked, desperate to know.

‘My dad lives in Oxford, he’s in a care home. It’s just me and him now so I always go and spend a few days there at Christmas. In a hotel that is, not in the care home.’ The monster had a heart?

‘That’s very sweet. How old is he?’