But of course those photos are long deleted, and with them your bad memories.
Except now I"m being reminded, I note, as I glance back at Seb, who"s tapping away at his screen, and feel a familiar twinge of irritation. This time, however, I"m just going to ignore it. Pretend I don"t even notice. I am not, repeat not, going to lose my temper and start throwing iPhones out of car windows (in my defence it was to stop him from driving and texting at the same time, which everyone knows is really dangerous). Instead, if it happens again, I"m just going to calmly ask him to stop the car and get out and walk.
"Is everything OK?" I ask, as I hear the familiar whooshing sound of an email being sent.
"Fine, just tying up some loose ends," he nods, putting down his iPhone. "You were saying?"
Except my earlier enthusiasm has waned now and somehow the story doesn"t seem that funny any more. "Oh, nothing." I give a little shake of my head.
"Hey Seb!"
A loud American accent causes us to look up to see a rather chubby man in a suit has paused by our table.
"Hey Chris," beams Seb, jumping up, and there ensues a lot of high-fiving. "How you doing?"
"Awesome," beams Chris.
I remember Chris. He"s one of Seb"s work colleagues. I only met him a few times, but to be honest I was never that keen on him; he always seemed a bit fake. Whenever I saw him, he could never remember my name and seemed more interested in showcasing a new Porsche and a new blonde.
"I saw you just as we were leaving." He gestures to an attractive blonde in a c.o.c.ktail dress.
See, some things never change.
"Anna, I didn"t see you there," smiles Seb, leaning in to give her a kiss. "Hey Tess, meet two really good friends of mine," he says, turning to me. "Guys, this is Tess. My girlfriend," he adds emphatically, and I feel a flicker of delight.
"Hi," I smile widely. This time around I"m going to try to make more of an effort. After all, he is one of Seb"s colleagues.
"Wow, great to meet you." Chris kisses me enthusiastically on both cheeks; meanwhile Anna is a lot more tight-lipped. Her eyes do the cla.s.sic "once-over" to see if I"m any compet.i.tion. Obviously deciding I"m not, she proffers a hand.
"Hi," she says tightly. Anna, it would seem, is not as friendly as her American boyfriend, but hails from somewhere near Chelsea and is a fully paid-up member of the Pippa brigade.
"Well, look, we don"t want to keep you from your dinner," Chris is saying. "Let"s catch up later." He claps Seb vigorously on the back, like you would if you were trying to stop someone choking and, slipping his hand around Anna"s tiny waist, strides off through the restaurant.
"Awesome couple, aren"t they?" comments Seb as we sit back down.
I look at him in astonishment. That"s what he thinks is a great relationship? Two fake people with zero love between them?
"Um, yes, awesome," I fib in agreement. I don"t want to offend him about his friends, but it does make me wonder: is that what he"s hoping for our relationship to be like?
"So, where were we?" smiles Seb, as we sit back down and he picks up a menu.
Well, you were on your iPhone and I was resolving that it wasn"t going to annoy me any more, I can"t help thinking, but instead I say, "My granddad"s having a poker night soon and I was wondering if you wanted to come. I"d like you to meet him . . ."
"Mmm, sure . . ." he nods, focused on the menu. "How about the spicy shrimp to start with?"
I break off as I realise that Seb isn"t actually listening to a word I"m saying.
"Um, yes, that sounds good," I say flatly.
Seb looks up and, catching my expression, creases his face into an apology. "Sorry, I got distracted. The food here"s amazing."
"It"s OK," I smile. "It wasn"t important."
"Of course it was," he protests, putting his hand over mine and squeezing it against the white linen tablecloth. "Everything you say is important."
"Well, I was just talking about my granddad," I say, emboldened. "He wanted to invite you to one of his poker evenings not this Friday but the next."
"Hey, count me in, poker"s my game," he enthuses.
"You sure you can come?"
"Try and stop me," he grins, and I feel a wave of happiness. It"s really important to me that Seb and Gramps like each other, and this time I"m certain they"re going to hit it off. I just know it.
I"m still feeling all happy when the waiter reappears to take our order. "Would you like to hear the specials?" he asks cheerfully.
Seb looks thrilled. "Sure," he nods, throwing me a smile across the table as if to say "Isn"t this great?", while I listen anxiously as the waiter reels off a huge list of dishes, each one sounding hotter and spicier than the next.
"Do you do prawn crackers?" I ask hopefully, after he"s finished.
The waiter almost visibly curls his lip. "No, we don"t do prawn crackers," he says, repeating the words as if they"re beneath him.
"We"re not in your local Chinese now," laughs Seb, and I feel myself colour up.
"I know I just thought maybe to snack on . . ."
"Don"t worry, we"ll order plenty," he smiles, "you won"t be hungry," and he expertly reels off a long list of dishes: pan-fried dumplings with chilli oil, firecracker beef, Kung Pao chicken, spicy Szechuan noodles . . .
With every dish I feel my stomach blanching. Crikey, that"s a ton of food.
Finally he breaks off and looks at me across the table. "What do you feel like, Tess? Anything special? I"ve ordered some of my favourites for us to share."
I glance nervously at the menu. There"s little ill.u.s.trations of chillies next to each dish, signifying how hot they are. Most of them seem to be either very hot or incendiary.
"Gosh, I don"t know; to be honest I"m not that hungry."
"After all that exercise?" protests Seb. "Come on, you must be starving! A ten-mile run burns off a ton of calories. You"re going to need to eat a lot of food to replenish your fuel reserves."
"I am?" I squeak.
"Totally," he says, serious-faced.
"Well, if that"s everything," interrupts the waiter.
"Actually, there is one more thing," I say, turning to him. "Could I order a bottle of water? A very large one."
I brace myself. By the looks of things, I"m going to need it.
The rest of the evening slips away in an eye-watering blur of sizzling hot plates, tongue-scorching noodle dishes and more red-hot chilli peppers than you could shake Anthony Kiedis at. Each dish is hotter than the next and I have to keep dabbing my face with my napkin to stop the sweat from pouring down. At one point Seb is feeding me with chopsticks and I actually remember a story I once read about someone who died from eating a chilli.
But I"m resolute. By some amazing miracle I"ve been given a second chance at making Seb fall in love with me. I can"t waste that! I"m going to do this date differently if it kills me so, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up my courage and my taste buds, I try each and every dish. Thankfully I manage to survive and am relieved to make it back to Seb"s apartment where we cuddle up on the sofa.
Now this is more like it, I think, snuggling up to him.
"Can I try the nook?" I ask, tilting my face to his as he wraps his arm around me.
"The what?" Seb peers at me, his brow crumpling questioningly.
"You know, the nook," I repeat, then seeing his blank expression, reprimand teasingly, "Don"t you know what the nook is?"
"Erm, no," he replies, looking vaguely amused. "Should I?"
"Absolutely," I admonish.
"I"m a fast learner," he smiles, a glimmer in his eyes.
"Well, in that case . . ." I twist my body around and nudge my shoulder underneath his armpit, wriggling my body into the gap between his ribcage and the crook of his arm. I used to love lying in the nook with Seb. It"s one of the million things I missed so much when we broke up. "It"s this s.p.a.ce right here, you see, a little hidden spot that you can fit right into that"s why it"s called the nook."
Only for some reason, now it doesn"t seem to quite fit. Which is really odd, I think, feeling slightly disconcerted.
"Are you sure about this?" he laughs. "Maybe we need a cushion,"
"No, you don"t need a cushion," I say, wriggling a bit more.
"Ow, I hurt my shoulder at the gym," he winces.
"Oh sorry," I apologise, quickly adjusting my position. "Is this OK?"
He fidgets for a bit. "Yeh, it"s fine now," he says. "You?"
"Yeh, fine," I nod.
Though to be honest it"s not as comfy as I remember. In fact, to tell the truth my neck"s now twisted at a funny angle and my arm"s a bit squashed. A bit like after you"ve had s.e.x and you"re lying curled up together and your arm goes numb but you don"t want to say anything.
Anyway, it doesn"t matter, as I soon forget all about the pins and needles tingling in my arm as Seb starts kissing the side of my face. "You know, I find a girl who can eat hot spicy food like you can very, very s.e.xy . . ."
"Really?" I feel a thrill.
"Totally," he murmurs as he runs his fingers underneath my dress. "Wow, what"s this?" he says approvingly, as he discovers my new basque.
"Do you like it?" I smile flirtily.
"Like it? I lurvve it . . ." He trails off, his breath hot and ragged in my ear.
"Mmmm." I lie back, happy with antic.i.p.ation and pleased at the effort I"ve made. His hands move up my thighs and I feel a shiver of antic.i.p.ation. G.o.d, I love this bit.
He starts kissing me, and it"s all getting hot and heavy when suddenly my stomach makes a growl.
"Ooh, sorry," I giggle with embarra.s.sment, but he shushes me with his lips and starts kissing me deeper.
The excitement heightens, and he starts kissing those delicious erogenous zones behind my ears. I let out an involuntary moan.
And a loud burp.
Oh my G.o.d, I"m so embarra.s.sed.
I quickly cover my mouth, but thankfully he"s so engrossed he doesn"t appear to have noticed and I abandon myself to the feeling of his lips on my b.r.e.a.s.t.s as he starts to unlace my basque. I can feel him hard beneath my inner thigh. I can feel his urgency.
Then I feel something else. A sort of rumbling.
Oh no.
Please, no.
I can hardly bear to think the thought. One way of putting it would be that I"m a little ga.s.sy. Another would be that I need to fart.
Horror flashes through my body as I desperately try to hold it in, but now I can feel another rumble brewing. It"s all that spicy food. I knew I shouldn"t have eaten it. I can"t eat spicy food. My stomach hates it.
And now it"s payback time. I flinch with terror as Seb reaches for my French knickers and tries to peel them off.
I cling onto them desperately.
"Playing hard to get?" he grins, tugging them harder.
"Um, something like that . . ." I try to giggle in a nonchalant, s.e.xy way, while clenching my b.u.t.tock muscles tightly. My stomach gives another rumble. Louder this time.
Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, I remember a bit of mindless information about how a volcano rumbles for approximately five minutes as a warning before it erupts.
Oh Christ. I"m going to erupt. Like a volcano.
For a few moments more, I try to focus back on having s.e.x with Seb. I"m a seductress, remember! I need to prance around in my basque! Jumping up from the sofa, I get up to do a bit of prancing while Seb settles back on the sofa, arms behind his head. "Mmm, s.e.xy," he murmurs approvingly.
I give a little appreciative wiggle. Then I realise something else. Something much much more terrifying than any volcano.
It"s not just gas.
"Sorry, I won"t be a moment, I"ve just got to-" I don"t even get to finish my sentence, or register Seb"s surprised face as with my legs crossed I make an awkward dash across the living room.
Argh. I need the loo. Quick!
Chapter 23.