Page 12 of What Did I Miss?

‘Rent or own? Vegan, vegetarian, pescatarian or other? Children? History of hereditary diseases? Cats? That’s a deal breaker, by the way; I’m highly allergic.’

These are the questions flying out of the mouth of the first man to sit opposite Makayla at the speed dating event.

According to the sticker on his Steve Jobs–esque skivvy, his name is Orlando.

He draws smiley faces inside his O’s, which seems ironic, because Orlando hasn’t smiled once.

He’s too busy typing paragraph-length notes into his phone.

He must be hunting for the perfect woman, and going by his face when he learns Makayla’s divorced, she’s not it.

But just because Orlando is treating this like a job interview, doesn’t mean they’ll all be duds, she reminds herself.

Besides, she’s not interested in meeting someone with long-term appeal.

Makayla’s looking for some good old-fashioned fun, and for that euphoric feeling that can only come from ticking this experience off her list.

Valerie, the hostess, whose beehive hairstyle rivals Marge Simpson, glides around the community hall, ringing a bell to let everyone know their time is up. They get four minutes; Makayla only needed one to realise she didn’t want to see Orlando again.

‘Ladies, ladies.’ Valerie tappity-taps along the floorboards in Mary Jane pumps. ‘Inside your folders, you’ll find a piece of paper. Take a moment to jot down your suitor’s name and pop a tick next to it if you felt butterflies.’

The only thing Makayla feels is murderous, because Orlando finished his interrogation by asking if she’s fertile. The brief interval provides the perfect opportunity to draw a skull and crossbones beside his name. Next!

She’s wedged into a dim corner, which makes it impossible to see if there are any decent prospects.

Valerie has gone to great lengths to install temporary partitions between the tables, insisting, ‘That’s how it was done in my day.

’ She’s already told them twice that it was ‘Love at first sight when I laid eyes on my funny-bunny Harold.’

The chime of the bell signals another round of musical chairs.

Makayla draws in a breath and almost chokes on it when date number two appears.

Designer stubble covers his sleek jaw, and dark strands fall over his eyes, creating an air of mystery.

He sweeps his fringe out of the way to take her in, and her confidence skyrockets as he flashes a grin of approval.

‘Hey there, I’m Makayla.’ She narrows in on his name tag, where he refers to himself as Mr X. He immediately plummets from a ten to a seven, and her plans for a tumble between the sheets go out the window. Hopefully, he’ll redeem himself with a witty personality.

Instead of responding, Mr X purses his lips and slides over a handwritten note – Wanna chat? Write your number . He removes a pen from the pocket of his acid-washed denim jacket and clicks the end. This must be that BDE everyone’s always talking about – Big Douche Energy.

Makayla rolls her eyes. ‘That’s not how this works.’ He’s missing the point of speed dating.

Tilting his head to one side, Mr X pouts like the perpetual child that he clearly is. When Makayla doesn’t budge, he double-taps the paper to reiterate his request.

This bold move probably works on a lot of women, but not Makayla.

It’s too cocky for her liking. It also makes a mockery of Cece’s selling point about women being in control at this event.

Makayla cups her hand around the paper to hide what she’s writing, then smirks as he reads her reply – 666 .

The way he screws it up and sinks into his chair, refusing to speak, tells her everything she needs to know.

No skin off her nose. Makayla spends the rest of their time playing Wordle.

After that, it’s a rotation of men, each more disappointing than the last. What was she thinking coming here?

Her pet hate is small talk, and now she has to endure an entire evening of it.

She can’t even flee because Cece installed the Find My Friends app on Makayla’s phone.

Her commitment to the cause is impressive, but with a baby to care for and a wedding to plan, her sudden interest in Makayla’s life is hard to fathom.

Can I please leave, Cece? I’d rather get a pap smear than be here.

Cece replies immediately, as though she’s waiting by the phone for updates.

They can’t all be that bad. Give it one more shot and then you can go.

Her insides curdle as the damn bell rings again and Pavlovian conditioning takes hold. Makayla’s fingers are flying across the screen, pleading her case to Cece when a familiar smooth voice breaks through the echo of nervous greetings around her.

‘Parma or parmi?’

Makayla abandons the text to glance up and finds Beau Shepherd standing before her, looking schmick in a fitted flannel shirt with his forearms on display – a body part she’d never given a second thought to until now.

He takes a seat and shuffles closer, sending his sharp cologne wafting across the table.

‘What are you doing here?’ Makayla forgoes hello. ‘Did Cece send you?’

‘Nice to see you too.’ He forgives her bluntness with a warm smile. ‘My sister – the one you’ve met, apparently – suggested this.’

Makayla swallows her surprise. How long has he known she rocked up at what she thought was his apartment?

‘I’m not having much luck with dating apps,’ he confesses. ‘I thought this might be a better way to meet people and gauge their vibe.’ He rests a novel on the table.

‘Is that a prop to show you’re an intellect?’ Makayla teases.

‘No. Just a habit. I arrive perpetually early to events.’

‘Are you aware those come in a digital version? Might be easier than carting that thing around. What is it, War and Peace ?’ It’s not a title Makayla recognises, but the shiny Miles Franklin Literary Award sticker speaks volumes about its quality, and Beau’s taste.

‘No, I’ve already read it twice. But there’s something to be said about a paperback.’ He traces his fingers along the spine, locking his gaze on her. ‘I like the weight of it in my hands.’

Her pulse quickens, hammering in her ears. She looks away first.

‘How’s your night going? Any front-runners?’ he asks.

Makayla’s snort says it all. ‘Let me see, there’s the guy who has an entire room dedicated to his bong collection, or the one who asked what colour underwear I’m wearing. Decisions, decisions. What about you?’

‘I’m really hoping to hear from Faith, who brought along her mum. Seems like a tight-knit family. Although I’m also sensing a future with Debbie, who asked about my yearly salary and other assets.’

‘Sounds like a keeper.’

They laugh, and the tension in Makayla’s shoulders disappears as they bond over this awful experience.

It returns, however, as a niggling thought pops up – if Beau’s on dating apps and came here willingly, he must be actively pursuing a relationship.

With his Bondi Beach looks, it won’t be long before he’s snapped up.

‘Speaking of parmigiana,’ Beau says, ‘there’s a pub around the corner that boasts about their three-cheese topping. Should we do a runner and see what all the fuss is about?’

‘Wait a minute. Is the rule follower suggesting we play hooky? Who knew Mr Serious Shepherd had a rebellious side?’ She drops the smile that’s fighting its way to her lips.

Part of the appeal of tonight was to get him out of her head and now here she is, engaging in banter with him.

‘I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to, you know, hang out. ’

‘Just as friends,’ he adds with a sheepish grin, appearing wounded by her multiple rejections.

‘Technically, we’re not friends.’

‘We could be if you stop running away every time you see me.’

Heat rushes to Makayla’s cheeks. He must have spotted her diving into classrooms to avoid him.

She twists the chunky silver rings decorating her thumb, considering his pub proposal, but Valerie’s over-enthusiastic bell-ringing interrupts her thoughts. If they don’t leave now, she’ll be stuck talking to another loser.

‘Sure, let’s go. A three-cheese parma sounds like a winner.’

They make a beeline for the exit with their heads down, ignoring Valerie’s attempt to coax them back. They’re one foot out the door when a woman in a pink off-the-shoulder dress catches up to them.

‘You’re leaving early?’ The stranger sweeps loose Hollywood curls out of her bronzed face to make doe eyes at Beau. ‘I was hoping to get your number.’

He must’ve made quite the impression. Why else would she have dashed over in skyscraper heels, risking an ankle injury?

Every woman here would have given him a tick, Makayla is certain.

They’re probably all wondering why he’s leaving with a woman whose only prep involved a supermarket-bought mascara.

Makayla slinks away to give the lovebirds some privacy, but within a few steps, she feels Beau’s arm snaking around her waist.

‘Don’t even think about ditching me,’ he whispers into her ear. Her back melts into his chest until he lets go to address the glambot. ‘I had a really great chat with you, Christine, but I don’t think it’ll work out. Good luck with your marathon training.’

Christine throws Makayla a death stare before trotting back to her makeshift cubicle where No-Smiles Orlando is waiting.

‘Shall we?’ Beau asks, acting like he didn’t just turn down a bombshell to have a parma with her.

There’s only one reason he’d fob Christine off; he thinks he’s going to get lucky with Makayla.

‘Lead the way,’ she says, keeping a close eye on him. Beau’s dreaming if he thinks she’ll fall for his plan.

Attend a speed dating session ?

‘How long were you married?’ Beau asks while they wait for their meals.

It’s a good thing Makayla ordered a beer; she’s going to need liquid courage for this conversation.

‘How did you know I was married?’