When Polly Met Olly: A fantastically uplifting romantic comedy for 2019!. Zoe May

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СКАЧАТЬ Olly notes, taking me by surprise. ‘You obviously have standards. We respect those standards. Other agencies might try to talk you into lowering your standards but we’re not like that. We’re confident that we can find you the partner of your dreams, someone who fits all your criteria.’ Olly smiles confidently, and I find myself smiling back, even though on the inside, I’m withering.

      He’s just like the kitchen salesman back home, from the confident way he promises to fulfil a vision to his charming sycophantic smile. But unlike the kitchen salesman, who’s slightly smarmy, overly confident sales pitch was just a bit annoying, Olly’s approach is kind of depressing. It’s one thing selling kitchens, it’s a whole other ballpark to sell love. Olly reduces relationships to criteria. To him, falling in love takes place over billable timescales. He probably considers dates to be deliverables. My heart feels like it’s shrivelling up inside my chest.

      ‘So, how does that sound?’ Olly asks again, in a confident upbeat tone.

      ‘It sounds great!’ I lie. ‘With the criteria and timescales, it couldn’t be more efficient!’ I plaster a smile across my face.

      ‘Exactly!’ Olly beams back.

      ‘Fabulous! Well, I’ll sleep on it – I’m not one to make decisions on the cuff,’ I tell Olly and as I expected, he nods understandingly.

      ‘Absolutely,’ he says.

      Of course, he respects my need to weigh up the investment decision that is finding a partner. He probably thinks I’m going to go home and do a cost-benefit analysis or use a pivot table to analyse my options.

      ‘Well, thanks a lot for today. I’ll be in touch!’ I insist, getting up to go.

      Olly copies, rising to his fee.

      ‘So…’ he ventures. ‘How about I give you a call in a few days and you can let me know your thoughts?’

      ‘Absolutely!’ I enthuse as I slip my arms into my jacket. ‘Sounds great!’

      ‘Great!’ Olly echoes with a smile.

      He opens his office door and ushers me out, offering to walk me to the lift. As we pass through the office, I glance around at the staff. There must be at least twenty of them and they all look incredibly cool and well-dressed. They couldn’t be more different to the way Derek and I look at work, with me in my lumberjack gear and Derek in his aviator-style glasses with his shirt covered in a near-constant dusting of Oreo crumbs.

      ‘I never realised dating agencies had so many staff,’ I comment.

      ‘Oh.’ Olly glances over his shoulder at his fashionable team as he presses the button for the lift. ‘They don’t all work for Elite Love Match,’ he tells me.

      ‘Who do they work for?’

      ‘I own a PR agency. I handle quite a lot of the Elite Love Match work, with the help of my assistant and a couple of others. That lot—’ he gestures over at his team ‘—they handle PR.’

      ‘I see.’ I nod. ‘That must be great having both of your businesses under one roof,’ I say, making glib chit chat while we wait for the lift to arrive.

      Meanwhile, I make a mental note to pass on this useful nugget of information to Derek. I wonder whether he realises that Elite Love Match is a relatively small operation – no bigger than To the Moon & Back.

      ‘Well, it was great meeting you.’ Olly pumps my hand and gives me his dashing smile, which I’m getting the feeling is a pretty well-used tool in his arsenal of charming moves.

      ‘You too.’

      ‘I’d love to work with you and I’m confident I can find you the man of your dreams,’ Olly says, eyeing me with a look of sparkling intensity.

      The man of my dreams. The words linger in the air between us. His hand is still clasping mine. We’re holding each other’s gaze and I feel suddenly, acutely aware of his palm against mine. Neither of us can quite look away, and I can’t help wondering what he’s thinking. Is the soft tender look in his eyes part of his sales pitch or is it something else? I gaze into his eyes, trying to figure it out, when all of a sudden, the lift doors start beeping as they close.

      ‘Oh, damn it.’ Olly steps forward and blocks the doors from closing, letting me inside.

      ‘Sorry about that, Polly,’ he says, with an apologetic and almost sheepish smile. ‘I hope to hear from you soon.’

      ‘Of course. Speak soon,’ I utter, still reeling. What happened just then? I smile politely and Olly smiles back – not his dashing salesman smile this time, but a softer, almost wistful one – as the lift doors close.

       Chapter 6

      I don’t know whether I’m coming or going as I leave Elite Love Match. Literally. I walk down the street for a good five minutes, before realising I’m going in totally the wrong direction. I turn around, but I must have drifted down a side street or two because I’m on a block I don’t recognise at all and certainly didn’t walk down on my way. Urghh. I stand still and force myself to get a grip. The truth is, I feel a bit lost. I retrieve my phone from my handbag to consult Google Maps. I don’t know where I am or, for that matter, how I feel. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a rollercoaster of emotions towards one person in such a short encounter, from attraction to flirting to mild disdain and then back to attraction and dare I say it, tenderness. There was something in Olly’s eyes when he shook my hand as he said goodbye and swore he’d find me the man of my dreams, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. Was he being suggestive, hinting that perhaps he could be the man of my dreams, or was he just messing with me? Was he trying to get my attention so I’d sign up to the agency? I don’t know if he was being sincere or whether he’s just a staggeringly good salesman, using his seductive charm to reel me in.

      I’m still thinking of his crinkly-eyed charming smile when my phone buzzes. It’s a text from Derek.

       How did it go? I’ve had to run. My wife’s knee’s playing up. Take the rest of the afternoon off if you like and we’ll catch up tomorrow. Derek.

      I glance at my watch. It’s 4 p.m. and I’m due to finish work at 5.30 p.m. An hour and a half off – not bad. It’s probably a good thing that I don’t have to go back to the office in my dazed state. I draft a quick reply.

       Hi Derek, it went pretty well. I’ll fill you in tomorrow. Hope your wife’s okay. See you, Polly.

      I hit send and drop my phone back into my bag, feeling relieved that I don’t need to be anywhere. At least now, I can just let my mind wander.

      I head into a nearby café, order a coffee and perch at the window, people-watching for a while as I replay the meeting with Olly in my mind, trying to figure out how I feel about him. Part of me is wildly attracted to him and yet another part finds him and everything his agency stands for incredibly depressing. I want to see him again and yet I feel repelled by the idea that I might not fit into the height bracket or income criteria that someone like him would demand me to have. I sip my coffee and try to focus on how the meeting went from a mystery shopper point of view instead. There was definitely a moment when Olly СКАЧАТЬ