The Cupid Club. Cheryl Ntumy S.

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СКАЧАТЬ the door. Her heart jumped. He really was handsome, with wide, laughing eyes and a soft mouth. Their eyes met, and for a fraction of a second Amarava felt as if she had been plunged into boiling water.

      His eyes widened in appreciation as he realised who she was. He smiled, and his face took on a charming childlike quality that made her smile, too. He got to his feet as she approached.

      “Amarava?” he asked hopefully.

      She nodded. “You must be David.”

      “I hope so, otherwise I’ll be very disappointed,” he remarked with a grin.

      She laughed and took the seat opposite him. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

      “No, really, the pleasure is mine,” he said. “You’re beau–tiful. Is it okay for me to say that in the first five minutes?”

      She raised her eyebrows. “I’ll have to check the manual. No, I’m kidding. Thank you. You’re not exactly hideous yourself.”

      “The surgery was successful,” he replied with another grin. “Oh, here comes the waitress. I have no idea what to order in a Japanese restaurant, so I’ll follow your lead.”

      Amarava smiled. She liked him. He had a positive energy and he had made her laugh almost immediately. Plus he was sexy. Very sexy, she realised, glancing at him over the menu. She ordered sushi for herself and stir-fried rice and tofu for him.

      Her phone rang just after the drinks arrived. It was Portia, no doubt calling to find out if her “good vibes” had been correct. Amarava apologised, put the phone on silent and made a mental note to call Portia later.

      “Was that Rihanna?” asked David. “Your ringtone.”

      Amarava grinned. “Yep. Are you a fan?”

      He shook his head ruefully. “I like her hair, but not her music.”

      Amarava’s jaw dropped. “At least tell me you like Beyoncé.”

      “Sorry. I’m more into Zahara, Norah Jones. You know, laid-back stuff. All that jumping around in sexy costumes frightens me.”

      Amarava laughed again.

      “So.” He leaned forward, his eyes twinkling. “Tell me about your name.”

      “Oh.” She smiled; she should have seen that one coming. “People always ask. It’s the name of the queen of the first people, from Credo Mutwa’s book Indaba, My Children. Read it?”

      David raised his eyebrows. “Ask me again next week.”

      Amarava chuckled. “I’m told my dad was obsessed with the book. My mother wanted to name me after my grandmother, but he wasn’t having it. They died when I was seven,” she added, in a more subdued tone.

      David’s smile faded. “I’m sorry to hear that. Who raised you?”

      “My aunt and uncle. They’re fantastic. Anyway, tell me about you.”

      He cleared his throat. “I was named after the kid with the slingshot who beat the giant Goliath. Obviously my parents had great expectations.”

      Amarava laughed again. As the evening wore on, she found herself laughing so often that she couldn’t take the smile off her face. David wasn’t afraid to be silly, or to admit that he was nervous. His gorgeous smile didn’t hurt either, and when he looked at her with those expressive eyes, her heart beat a little faster.

      “You’re not big on fish?” she asked, amused by the way he looked at her sushi.

      “It’s the raw part that bothers me,” he confessed. “I’m more of a burger and chips kind of guy.”

      “There’s only one word for that,” she replied. “Cholesterol.”

      He laughed. “I know! I love it. Give me grease and a charred steak any day. But you’re obviously a health nut. Low fat, low sugar, low fun?”

      “Low risk,” she retorted.

      She couldn’t believe how well they were getting along, considering how different they were. She had heard of opposites attracting, but she had never experienced it – until now. There was a definite crackle in the air between them, and though he kept the conversation light, his eyes told her the attraction was mutual.

      The waitress returned with the bill, and David and Amarava both reached for it. His fingers brushed hers, sending a pang of desire through her. She found herself looking at his hands, imagining how they would feel on her skin. They were large and strong, with long, slender fingers and short, clean nails. She could picture them touching her face, her neck, her thigh . . .

      “Oh, no,” he said, breaking the spell. “None of this modern woman stuff, please. My father told me if I ever took a woman out and made her pay he would disinherit me, and I have my heart set on his record collection.”

      Amarava burst out laughing. “Well, I certainly don’t want to deprive you of your inheritance.”

      They walked out together, exchanging numbers and checking each other’s online profiles on their phones. His featured his photography, as well as other people’s work and countless images of anime characters.

      “You’re really into fashion,” he remarked.

      “You’re really into cartoons,” she countered.

      “Hhayi, it’s not cartoons!” he cried. “It’s anime. Totally different.”

      She giggled. “Sorry.” All too soon they were standing in front of the Mini, and Amarava wished she could press rewind. It was the best date she had been on in a long, long time . . . possibly the best date ever.

      David’s tone grew serious. “So how does this work? Can I see you again, or is it up to Angelique?”

      She smiled, suddenly feeling shy, and looked down at her shoes. The shiny leather looked reddish brown in the streetlights. “It’s up to me.”

      “Oh, good.” He inched forward, then stepped back, looking uncertain.

      They were standing very close to each other. She looked up into his eyes, neither of them speaking. Amarava got the feeling he wanted to kiss her, and if he had tried she might have let him. But he didn’t. Her stomach churned with longing and anxiety, and, as if picking up on it, David stepped back.

      “I really had fun,” he admitted, his tone playful once again. “Would you mind if I stalked you online?”

      She laughed. “I think I’ll survive.”

      He waited until she pulled out of the parking lot and waved before he made his way to his own car.

      Amarava found herself giggling uncontrollably like a teenager, her pulse racing at the thought of the way their hands had touched. When she got home, she was still smiling.

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