The Dating Club

Psychology, Feasts and Facing Phobias

Chapter Ten: Psychology, Feasts and Facing Phobias

Hartsholme Park is situated in the heart of Lincoln, so it takes a while to get there as I live in one of the villages on the border of Lincolnshire. It consists of a large lake with a nice walk around the outside, and has a small cluster of shops and a place where you can hire out yachts and canoes.

     I can't really remember much about visiting before, except for the fact that I apparently fell into the lake while we were renting out one of these yachts. The thought makes me shudder.

     I have a major fear of water. Well, not water, but drowning. So I am ok to take a shower, but try and get me in a swimming pool, or to go on a boat, and I will scratch your face off. Yes, call me a wimp. I just can't physically be near water.

     I'm not sure when this fear of water came about, because I can vaguely remember learning to swim at some point, and I wasn't scared of it then.

     Marissa laughed when she found out. "So you're fine throwing yourself into a fight with three other guys twice your height, but you can't swim?"

     "I can swim," I clucked, irritated. "I just don't like it."

     "I think it's a bit of an understatement to say you don't like it. You screamed and ran into my arms when I tried to get you to walk across the bridge over the Waterside. And that's no more than a stream."

     "The bridge didn't have anything on the sides, someone could just fall off it," I pointed out, and Marissa dropped the subject.

     Nathan walks a little ahead of me, and I run to catch up, and I think he notices so he slows down a little."So what were you up to before I came to pick you up?" He says, walking beside me, hands in the pockets of his black chinos. It's a look that suits him with his dyed redish hair.

     I can't tell him that I spent the morning asleep, and the brief thirty minutes before he picked me up frantically splashing makeup on my face, so I lie.
"I tidied up around the house a little, did some workouts and then cooked lunch for my Dad and my sister and I. What about you?"

     He chuckles a little. "Liar. And I slept in till eleven, and then watched TV for half an hour before eating a pot noodle and coming to collect you."

     I stare at him in surprise, and then say, a little angrily, "what do you mean, 'liar'?"

     "I'm just saying I don't think that you did all of that this morning."

     "And why not?"

     "Woah, no need to get so defensive," he laughs, and I mutter under my breath.

     "Alright, you got me," I admit, and he laughs even harder. "I slept in till half past eleven and then fretted over whether to use liquid or pencil eyeliner for the next half hour. Damn it."

     "You're not wearing any eyeliner," he says, puzzled, and I look at him in shock. Am I really talking to a guy who knows his makeup?

     "Yeah, I know. I couldn't be bothered to put it on in the end."

     "I see," he says, and stops. I turn around to see we are in the queue for the ice cream van.

     "What do you want?" he says, and I bite my lip as I try and decide. "I'll get the Mini Milk strawberry," I say.

     "You sure you're not just getting that because it's the cheapest option? I'll have a Feast," he says, turning to the man hovering over the ice cream, scoop poised.