And Baby Makes Two - Dyan Sheldon [6]
He smiled. “Well, Happy Birthday, Lana Spiggs.”
Happy Birthday to me.
Les Craft was twenty years old, kind, sensitive and intelligent (he had two A levels). He wasn’t exactly a babe, but he was good-looking in a quiet way, and he had two gold hoops in his left ear, and he did dress very smart. Plus, there was no grease on his hands. Les was assistant manager of the Blockbuster on the high street.
“I thought you looked familiar,” I fibbed. I wanted him to know he was special, not some dork a girl would never notice. “I go in there all the time.”
He smiled. In my opinion, Calvin Klein could’ve made millions if he bottled that smile.
“I know.”
He’d noticed me! I couldn’t believe it. I hadn’t noticed him – I didn’t really look at the boys who worked at Blockbuster because they tended to have bad skin and only recommend action films – but this attractive man had noticed me.
I told him all about my most recent fight with the Curse of Kilburn while we ate our burgers. He dipped his chips in the ketchup just like I did.
Les was very understanding. He had a mother, too.
“They have a lot of trouble letting go,” said Les. “My mum’s the worst. I won’t let my mum in my flat, because she’d start tidying up the minute she got through the door.” He smiled his break-your-heart smile. “And she’s always after me to cut my hair.”
“Oh, don’t do that.” It was long enough to hang sexily over his collar, but not so long that you’d mistake him for a girl from the back. “It’s lovely.”
Sunshine flooded McDonald’s.
“OK. I’ll tell my mum Lana likes it like this.”
I felt like someone was pouring hot fudge sauce through my veins. Lana likes it like this… It was as though we’d known each other for ages. That had to mean that I’d see him again.
Les stuffed the chip packet and his napkin and the straw wrapper into his burger box. There wasn’t one crumb or blob of ketchup at his place.
“I’ve got to get back to the shop,” he said. He made it sound like he’d rather go anywhere else. “Do you want to come with me and hang out?”
I didn’t have to think even once, never mind twice. “Yeah, sure.”
Let the old bat worry that I’d been raped or run over by a car or something. It served her right.
Les took me home when he finished work. I couldn’t believe my luck. He not only had a job and a flat (well, a room in a flat), he had a car. It wasn’t a Porsche or a Jeep or anything cool like that, but it wasn’t an old banger like Charley’s van that you had to park on a hill so you could get it started the next day, either.
It had gone midnight by the time we got to my road. I made him let me off at the corner. In case she was hovering behind the curtains.
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” asked Les. “I could come in with you if you want.”
He sounded really concerned.
“No, I’ll be fine.” I undid my seat belt and took hold of the door handle. “She isn’t violent. She’s just a pain.”
The last thing I wanted was for him to meet Hilary. Women often end up looking just like their mothers. Oprah did a whole programme on it. What if Les took one look at her, decided that was what I was going to end up like, and I never saw him again? Plus, she’d be sure to tell him I was only fifteen. Probably before I’d even introduced him. “You know she’s only fifteen,” she’d say. “Do you want to go to prison?”
I pulled on the handle. “She’ll be in bed now anyway,” I lied. “It’ll be all right.”
Les grabbed my right hand.
When you’re little, you think a lot about whether or not you should kiss a boy on the first date. Will he think you’re easy? Will he think you kiss every boy you meet like that? Will you catch something?
But since we hadn’t technically been on our first date yet, I didn’t worry about it. As soon as I felt his skin on mine I turned to face him. I’d practised kissing my pillow and stuff like that (so I’d know what to do), but kissing Les was not like kissing my pillow. His lips were warm, and soft as the centre of a chocolate cream. I was melting from within. I didn’t even jump or gag or anything when he stuck his tongue in my mouth. It was hardly slimy