Anything {Catfish & the Bottlemen}

8

I began getting ready for my date at 3pm. Darren was going to be here at 7, so that gave me plenty of time to make myself look presentable.

I didn't want to go all out, and look like I was trying to impress Daz, so I didn't overthink anything. First, though, a bath. I avoided Catfish's music and put on my The 1975 playlist, instead, not wanting to upset myself before a - hopefully - nice night out. I ran the water to midway up the bath, making sure it was hot enough to last a good hour. "She's got a boyfriend anyway," I belted out. That was one bonus of living alone, I could sing my heart out as dreadfully as I liked, when I liked.

A while later I got out, heading straight into my bedroom with a towel wrapped round my body, still singing The 1975; this time Chocolate was playing. I ruffled through my wardrobe, trying to think of a first-date appropriate outfit. I wandered over to my laptop, still in my towel, and FaceTimed by mum - she was good in fashion, she'd be able to help.

"Hiya, mam! I need a favour," I sad, and my mum looked at me with concern; probably wondering what on earth I needed at 4pm whilst in a towel. "Hmm?" She murmured. "So, I'm going out on a date," her eyes lit up at my words, "and I need outfit advice." Walking back over to my wardrobe, I pulled out my three options: a black, skintight wrap dress with a low-cut neck; a red and white polka dot 60s-style mini dress; and a navy blue, slim-fitted jumpsuit. I held up each one in front of my body in turn, leaving a few moments for my mum to contemplate. "The jumpsuit," she said definitively, "with the black heels, if you've still got them." We grinned at each other through the screen. God, I missed her. Then she asked the question I'd been expecting, "when are you coming to visit, sweetheart? Dad and I miss you," she told me, longingly. I knew it hurt her that I lived so far away. "Soon, mam, i promise. I'll be over for Christmas, I miss you too." Smiling at her, I said my farewell, "I'll call you after the date, I love you." Her reply was cut short as I hung up the call.

Perching on the end of my bed, I pulled on my underwear and clipped on my best push up bra then slipped into my jumpsuit, fumbling with the zip on the back. I sat myself down at my dresser, after starting at myself in my full length mirror. I felt repulsed by my figure, I was awkwardly proportioned, but I knew any other person would tell me I was beautiful. What do I do with my hair? I thought to myself. I didn't want to use heat on it, I'd been trying to cut down on that. Instead I put it into two plaits down the sides of my head, intending on taking them out before I left. Not actually a fan of makeup, I just put some tinted moisturiser on my face and applied mascara. I'd add lipstick before I left, knowing it'd have faded by the time I went out.

I felt nervous, and I didn't know why. I'd worked with Darren for months. Admittedly, I'd never seen him as anything other than a colleague until a few weeks ago, but still. It's just Darren. Good ol' Daz. Tonight was nothing serious, anyway. Just a nice meal. If that was the case, why had I got so dressed up, cared so much about my outfit? Stop, you'll drive yourself crazy, I said to myself.

It was 6pm by the time I'd finally finished getting ready so I walked into my kitchen and poured myself a glass of red, just to calm the nerves. I stood by my counter and stared out of my window. Llandudno was lit up tonight, each flat in the apartment block next to mine illuminated. I wonder what went on in those houses. Who lived there? What did they get up to? What troubles did they face? I tend to do that when I'm down on the beach. People-watch. Come up with scenarios about all these people that pass me, wondering what got them to where they are now...

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. I snapped out of my daydream and checked my phone. A text from Darren, 'I'm outside x'. I grabbed my denim jacket, my bag and my keys; downed my wine, then headed downstairs and out into the night. Darren was parked directly opposite my building's doors so I entered the heat of his car quickly, instantly greeted by a bouquet of flowers. "Aw, Daz, you didn't have to," I chuckled, then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He grabbed the flowers from me and put them on the backseat of his car, "for convenience," he said as if in explanation. I nodded, smiled, and clicked my seatbelt into the slot. Darren and I loitered for a minute, the silence awkward, until he abruptly said "right" and started the car.

We pulled up outside The Cottage Loaf a few miles away from my flat. Darren got our first, then ran to my side of the car and held my door open for me, then grabbed my hand as I stepped out. We walked, hand in hand, into the pub together and we stopped at the 'please wait here' sign. A short, slim waitress came over and asked for Darren's name. "Waters," he said, "Darren Waters," and smiled at the waitress. She gestured we follow her, so that we did. We were taken over to a table close enough to the bar, but also secluded enough to have a conversation without being interrupted every ten seconds.

I looked at the menu, then back up at Darren, catching his eye. "What do you fancy?" He asked. "We can get starters, or save things for dessert," he said, and I'm pretty damn sure he winked at me. I smiled uncomfortably at him, and said "just mains is all good, I think I'm going to order the lasagne," since it's what I'd been craving all week. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and then licked his lips. "Mmm, lasagne," he said, "what can I get you to drink?" I stared at the menu again, pretending I was interested in what it said; "just a coke, please" I responded. Darren nodded his head, then announced enthusiastically, "I'll be back soon, just going to nip to the bar and order!" I smiled, then as he went away I grabbed my phone out and texted my mum: "mam, this is NOT going well; he's creepy, 2/10!!! xxx".

Around half an hour later our food arrived, and I tucked straight in, ravenous. "A girl who likes her food, eh?" Darren said, winking again. "Ha, yeah," I replied, shrugging it off and stuffing my fork back into my dinner.
"So, Darren," I asked, trying to make polite, normal, conversation. "What do you get up to in your spare time?" He stared at me deep in the eye, "I don't think my hobbies are ones to be shared over a first date," his reply was sinister. I put my jacket on, pretending I was cold when in reality it was about 30 degrees in this pub. I felt a cold touch on my knee, but ignored it thinking it was a breeze. The touch kept getting further up my leg, and it was when my thigh got squeezed I realised what was happening. "Excuse me for a second, girl emergency," I said to Darren and grabbed my bag and phone, running to the direction of the bathroom. I ran into a member of staff and asked him the best way to get out without passing my table, and he directed me through the back.

I ran out into the cold air, stood by the bins and threw up. I then grabbed my phone from my bag and dialled the first number that came to my head. They answered after the third ring and I spoke first.

"Van?"