I try to hide a smile, but totally fail. ‘Here I am, in my natural surroundings!’ I gesture around us to the cosy little pub. ‘At least I can’t get stuck on any exercise equipment here. So um… who are you here with?’
So far so good, I say to myself, at least I haven’t said anything stupid yet.
‘That bunch of nutters over there.’ Scott points to where the group of guys he walked in with are sitting. One of them has a Post-It stuck to his forehead. ‘We’re here for my mate Chris’s birthday. He’s the one with the Post-It stuck to him because we’re playing “Who Am I?” Somehow, I don’t think he’s going to know who Olaf from Frozen is!’ He pauses for a second and narrows his eyes at me. ‘Hang on a minute. I’ve just remembered you didn’t even tell me your name earlier! All I know you as is Rowing Machine Girl and I think we should change that, don’t you?’
I chuckle and feel my cheeks begin to burn. ‘I’m sorry, you caught me at a bad moment earlier,’ I reply. ‘I promise I don’t usually run off before telling someone my name. I-it’s Cleo.’
I risk a glance at him and smile. To my surprise, he returns it and I feel my stomach do a world-class backflip. I can’t help feeling a little surprised at myself; for the first time in years, I’ve put myself out there and actually interacted with a guy who, it has to be said, is quite good-looking. The barman comes over and, after a bit of to-ing and fro-ing, I place my drinks order first.
‘As in Cleopatra?’ Scott raises his eyebrows and smiles when the barman leaves. ‘Like the nineties girl band?’
I laugh so hard that a snort comes out. Oh, very attractive, Cleo.
‘I usually get the Egyptian queen, but yeah, the girl band too! Cleopatra comin’ atcha.’
‘We’re gonna blow the roof, gonna blow it.’ His singing voice – along with his knowledge of nineties pop-song lyrics – is surprisingly good.
‘And there was me thinking you were going to break out ‘Especially for You’. Being called Scott Robinson, it’s kind of expected,’ I shoot back.
‘Touché.’
The barman brings over my drinks and turns his attention to Scott. As he’s ordering, I watch him and begin to notice things about him. The way his eyes crease as he smiles, the way he catches his bottom lip between his teeth and furrows his brow as he tries to remember what flavour of crisps to ask for. My heart rate quickens a little and I can feel my palms begin to sweat.
What the hell is wrong with me?!
Scott senses me looking at him and meets my gaze with a smile as he waits for his drinks. My breath catches in my chest and, as I go to say something, a loud hiccup escapes from my mouth instead.
‘I-I should probably go,’ I say with a weak chuckle, before any more strange sounds can slip out. ‘Have a good night!’
I do a clumsy little wave, spin on my heel and start to walk away. My cheeks begin to burn as I replay the awful hiccup in my mind. Doesn’t exactly scream “elegant and sophisticated”, does it? Then again, I can’t seem to be graceful around Scott, no matter how hard I try.
A voice behind me makes me stop in my tracks. ‘Wait a minute!’
I turn round to see Scott coming to a halt in front of me. The barman pokes his head round the corner, his brow furrowed with confusion.
‘You want these pints or not, mate?’
‘Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec…’ Scott flashes a thumbs-up in the barman’s direction and turns back to me. ‘Will I, um… Will I see you in the gym again any time soon?’
I laugh and shake my head. ‘I’m not sure about that! I think I’m a bit of a liability when it comes to gym equipment, don’t you?’
‘I prefer to think of it as you keeping things interesting,’ he replies. ‘I’d had a pretty quiet day before you got stuck.’
The unexpected compliment catches me off-guard and for a moment, I’m worried I might hiccup again.
Luckily it comes to nothing. ‘Well, I’m glad I could help! I’ll come back soon, once I’ve recovered from my rowing machine-related trauma.’
Scott smiles. ‘I’d like that. Anyway, I’d better get back to the lads; if they don’t get their pints soon, things will turn nasty. It was nice to meet you, Cleopatra Comin’ Atcha.’
For the first time in twenty-six years, my full name doesn’t sound quite so horrible. Nevertheless, I tell him, ‘I prefer Cleo, you know. That’s what my friends call me.’
‘I’ll remember that,’ he says before making his way back to the bar.
As I watch him go, I take a moment to marvel at myself. Apart from the hiccup, my exchange with Scott went pretty darn well. I started off a little bit nervous, but soon relaxed and allowed myself to, be… well, me. I even made him laugh a couple of times, which I count as a bonus.
My insides unclench and I make my way back to my and Emma’s booth.
‘You took your time,’ she says with a grin. ‘Talking to your admirer, were you? I think you should make him part of your bucket list: get a date with Mr Fit and Hunky!’
I glance across the bar and, even though I can’t see Scott’s table from where I’m sitting, I smile. Our encounter has made me feel all fizzy inside. Maybe I’m capable of more than I give myself credit for.
‘One thing at a time eh? I haven’t even written the bloody bucket list yet. Anyway, I hardly know the guy. We’ve only spoken twice!’
For some reason, I don’t dismiss the idea of getting a date with Scott outright. It doesn’t seem totally impossible and Emma’s right about it making a good addition to the bucket list. Yet, just as I’m entertaining these thoughts, something stops me from fully embracing the possibility. Little doubts begin to creep into the periphery of my thoughts and I take a glance down at my figure. Ever since my car accident, my life’s been dictated by my weight and that’s still true today.
Maybe getting a date with Scott will have to wait. At least until I’m less of a work in progress.
‘Well, I think he’d be daft not to go out with you,’ Emma declares. ‘You’re awesome, like I’ve told you a million times! Let’s get thinking of some ideas for this bucket list, shall we? I was thinking doing a shark dive might be cool.’
As talk turns to whether I should sky-dive or bungee jump, go zorbing or get a tattoo, I can feel the doubts slowly begin to disappear. As the excitement for my brand-new bucket list mounts within me, I can’t help but feel like I’m about to go on the greatest adventure of my life.
*
After a few more drinks, I head back home. Larkspur Cottage is nestled in a row of gorgeous ice cream-coloured cottages, just a short walk from the Bell and Candle. Its cheerful baby-blue frontage lifts my spirits every time it comes into view. Even now, with only the dim light from the street lamp on the corner illuminating it, I smile when I see it. Although it’s chilly outside, I’m warmed by the alcohol I’ve drunk and my thoughts are all cosy and fuzzy. I had a good laugh with Emma, as I always do, came up with lots of bucket-list ideas and even managed to conduct a conversation with a man.
Wonders will never cease.
I let myself in and do a little stumble into my living room, where I see my computer sitting in the corner. Since I’m all fired up from my ideas session with Emma, I decide now is as good a time as any to write the new Cleo Jones’s Ultimate Bucket List. My journey across to the computer is a bit wobbly, thanks to my high heels, but I make it there unscathed. After firing it up, I take a deep