The Wedding Date. Jennifer Joyce

      ‘Don’t make it so obvious,’ she hisses. ‘But the guy with the red trainers.’

      I look down at the ground until I spot them. I’m suitably impressed when my eyes trail up the body. ‘I suppose he is pretty cute. Is he seriously checking me out?’ My answer comes when he turns to face me and gives me a wide smile. ‘Oh, cripes. He’s coming over.’

      Any hint of bravado leaves my body as the bloke comes to a standstill in front of me.

      ‘I haven’t seen you here before, have I?’ It’s only a tiny fairy step up from the gag-tastic “do you come here often?” line but I find myself forgiving him, mainly because he’s cute and could be a contender for Project Wedding Date. Lauren and I don’t make these trips to the football pitch a regular occurrence but we do occasionally turn up and I haven’t noticed him before either. But then I have been walking around in a bit of a daze since Ben. Deciding to date again – in whatever form – has obviously opened my eyes to cute guys again, which can only be good news.

      ‘That’s my nephew, Lewis.’ He points out one of the boys but I can’t tell which one – they all look the same to me – but it’s one of Ryan’s lot and not the opposition.

      ‘We’re here with the boys’ PE teacher.’ I point out Ryan, who is yelling something across the field and waving his arms about.

      ‘But he’s just a friend,’ Lauren chips in. ‘Delilah’s single.’

      My cheeks burst into flames. I’d forgotten how excruciating dating can be. It was never like this with Ben, which proves how right we are for each other.

      ‘Delilah? Nice name.’ I swear to all that is holy that if this guy starts crooning Tom Jones at me, I’m walking away. But he simply smiles while I go a bit redder in the cheeks department.

      ‘Do you have a name?’ Lauren asks and I glare at her. Does he have a name? No wonder she’s single too if this is how she initiates conversations.

      Instead of backing away never to be seen again – which he should – he laughs and nods his head. ‘I’m Jack. And yes, before you ask.’ He half turns towards Lauren but keeps his gaze on me. ‘I’m single too.’

      ‘It’s like fate!’ Lauren looks past us, towards the football pitch before placing her hand on Jack’s arm. ‘Will you excuse me? I think Ryan’s trying to get my attention.’

      Ryan isn’t trying to get her attention at all. When Jack and I look out onto the pitch, Ryan is caught up in trying to break up a scuffle between the opposing teams.

      ‘Does your friend play Cupid often?’ Jack asks as Lauren weaves her way through the crowd.

      ‘Fortunately not.’ My cheeks are still quite warm but the fact that Jack hasn’t run a mile is quite promising. Could Jack be it? Could he be my plus one for Francesca’s wedding? I try to see him through Ben’s eyes and conclude that yes, Jack is a pretty good contender. He’s taller than Ben without towering over me ominously, handsome without being arrogant (I have to admit – begrudgingly – that Ben had a tad of arrogance about him) and he seems like pleasant enough company.

      ‘She means well,’ I say and Jack nods effusively.

      ‘Oh, yes. Absolutely.’ Jack nods a bit more. ‘She seems like a good friend.’

      Ben never really liked Lauren. He said I became loud and uncouth whenever I was with her, which is totally unfair. I can be loud and uncouth without Lauren’s encouragement, thank you very much.

      ‘I should go and find Lewis.’ The whistle has been blown, signalling the end of the match. Ryan’s team has won two-nil. ‘But I’d really like to see you again.’

      ‘Yes,’ I decide. ‘I’d like to see you again too.’

      Jack’s snowed under with work at the moment so I don’t get to see him until the following week. We’ve sent texts back and forth and Jack has phoned me a couple of times but it’s good to see him again and confirm that I didn’t imagine how cute he is. Yes, he will definitely look good as my plus one. Jack picks me up and tells me we’re heading to a lovely little restaurant in the countryside. It takes quite a while to get there but Jack assures me it will be worth it.

      ‘What do you think?’ Jack asks when we finally arrive at the secluded pub restaurant.

      I look around the small, dark room. It isn’t quite what I was expecting but it’s a quaint little place with a proper open fire. ‘It’s cosy. And quiet.’ Quiet is an understatement. There’s only one other customer; an elderly man in a tweed jacket and mud-encrusted wellies who’s nursing a pint of bitter.

      ‘Good.’ Jack winks at me. ‘That means I get you all to myself.’

      The landlord wanders out from the back of the pub and looks taken aback to see new customers in his establishment. He blinks at us before asking what we’d like.

      ‘You serve food, don’t you?’ Jack asks. He takes his phone out and tries to open his internet browser but there’s no signal here. ‘It said you did on TripAdvisor.’

      I’m surprised at Jack’s words. From the way he’s been talking, I assumed he’d been here before, several times. I thought it was his favourite place to dine.

      ‘Aye, we do food.’ The landlord nods and leads us to a table by the fire, producing a menu which consists of a single laminated sheet of paper. ‘Are you having a starter?’

      There is only one starter available: soup of the day.

      ‘What soup is it today?’ I ask as I shrug off my jacket.

      ‘Heinz tomato, love.’

      We decide to have a starter plus a main course of sausage and chips for me and egg and chips for Jack. Neither of us fancied the third and final choice of liver and onions.

      ‘I’m so sorry about this,’ Jack says as the landlord heads off to the kitchen. ‘It has five stars on TripAdvisor, I swear.’

      ‘I thought you’d been here before.’

      ‘I have but it was a couple of years ago. They must have changed hands since.’

      ‘Never mind.’ Jack looks so crestfallen but the location of our date isn’t what’s important. As long as we have a nice evening together, that’s all that matters.

      And we do have a nice evening. The food is edible and we have the added bonus of a drunken serenade by the man in the wellies as we eat. Jack and I chat about our lives and work and Jack tells me about his nephew, who is in Year Eight at Ryan’s school.

      ‘Do you want kids of your own?’ I ask and Jack nods. We’ve finished our meal and the landlord has taken away our dishes but we’ve remained by the fire where it’s cosy. The landlord has disappeared again and with the only sounds coming from the back of the pub where the man in wellies is attempting to woo a wilting pot plant with a ballad and the crackle from the fire in front of us, we could be in our own little cottage.

      ‘One day. I love kids. I just have to meet the right girl first.’ Jack chooses that moment to lean in and kiss me, to convey that maybe, given time, I could be that girl. ‘I’m sorry. Was that too soon?’

      ‘No, it’s fine. Really.’ It’s an odd sensation being attached to lips that don’t belong to Ben. Jack’s lips feel different and the fuzzy feeling is missing from my tummy, but it’s a pleasant enough kiss and I wasn’t expecting – or wanting – fireworks anyway.

      ‘I think this could be it,’ I tell Lauren. We’re once again standing on a muddy field as Ryan’s football team tear up and down the pitch. It’s freezing so we’re bundled up in thick coats, hats, scarves and gloves to ward off the cold. We’d usually find some excuse to stay at home (in the warm) but I’m hoping to see Jack again. We agreed to see each other after our date but Jack has been busy with work again and we haven’t had the chance to meet up.