Page 19 of Wish You Were Here

Saskia

I have been instructed to meet Brad at Lavender Bay, which is just across the other side of the harbour by Luna Park, at eight-thirty on Saturday morning.

I have no idea what we’re doing, but I’m excited about it – although a little nervous too.

I haven’t been on an actual date in a very long time.

My love life over the last ten years has been a series of shit but short relationships, a number of meaningless one-night-stands, and so as I approach thirty, I am beginning to wonder when I am going to have a decent boyfriend.

I am ready for a grown-up relationship. I know I told Lou that I am off men for the time being, but I think what I actually meant is that I am done with pointless sex.

I want something meaningful, mature and maybe Brad is going to be it.

Perhaps this date is just the beginning of a long and magical relationship.

Although as I’m standing at the meeting spot, he’s ten minutes late and I begin to wonder whether I have been stood up.

However, as I wonder whether to call Brad, I see him walking quickly towards me, holding two travel mugs of, I assume, coffee.

‘Sorry I’m late, Sas. It took me longer to get here than I thought, and the coffee was—’

‘It doesn’t matter. You’re here now,’ I say, looking at Brad, who looks ridiculously gorgeous in his designer workout clothes.

He told me to wear workout gear or something comfortable, and so, of course, I had to go out and buy a whole new outfit.

The only gym clothes I had were from about five years ago, when I thought I should try to get in shape, bought a bunch of stuff – not that sexy – joined an expensive gym – locked in for two years, good choice, Sas – and then stopped going after six months.

‘You look hot, Sas. Those gym clothes are really working for you,’ says Brad, a glint of something in his eyes, which makes me blush.

‘Thanks, you too,’ I say, trying to play it cool, as he passes me a coffee.

Everything he is wearing is skin tight, so you can see all his rippling muscles, and it all looks high end, so despite the fact he’s in his workout gear, he looks like he’s about to pose for a fashion shoot.

I might look the part in my brand new – and quite expensive – gym ensemble, but I hope I don’t actually have to work out.

Looking fit and being fit are two very different things. ‘So, Brad, what are we doing?’

‘Follow me,’ he says with a mysterious smile, then he grabs my hand and we walk along Lavender Bay until we arrive at a kayak tour company. ‘We’re going to kayak the harbour!’

‘Oh, wow, that’s awesome. Just one small problem.’

‘What’s that?’ says Brad. I imagine he could kayak all the way from here back to Bondi without breaking a sweat.

‘I don’t know how to kayak.’

‘It’s easy, Sas. You could do it blindfolded,’ says Brad with a confident smile. ‘Although I wouldn’t recommend actually doing it blindfolded. I’m a certified kayak instructor, and seeing where you’re going is quite important once you’re on the water.’ Of course, he is a certified kayak instructor.

We walk into the kayak centre, and I’m holding my coffee, praying I don’t make an absolute fool of myself.

As it turns out, we are on a guided tour, and so it’s me, Brad, another couple, both Scottish, two Aussie girls and a man from Brazil, who barely speaks a word of English.

We get kitted out with kayaks, go through a quick safety briefing, before we are fitted for life jackets.

After about thirty minutes, we are all in the water.

‘This is honestly, one of the best things to do in Sydney. You get to see the Harbour Bridge, the Opera House, but it’s so different from the water. Trust me, you’re going to love it,’ says Brad as we set off.

We begin kayaking out from Lavender Bay towards the Harbour Bridge, and it’s actually not as difficult as I imagined.

We are going at a leisurely pace, and the person leading the tour is telling us some interesting facts about the harbour.

The sun is shining, I have coffee, and for the first time all morning, I relax.

Brad was right about it being one of the best things to do in Sydney.

I actually feel bad that I haven’t done it before.

I also haven’t done the Harbour Bridge climb – not a fan of heights – or been to Taronga Zoo.

‘Having fun?’ says Brad as we approach the Harbour Bridge.

‘I am. Thanks for this, Brad. I definitely wouldn’t have done it on my own.’

‘No worries,’ says Brad, his rippling biceps easily pushing his paddle through the water, and I feel a real attraction towards him, and not just because of his looks and body, but because he’s thoughtful and took me on this cool date.

He isn’t afraid of taking me out of my comfort zone, and I need that sometimes.

I need someone to push me and make me do things I wouldn't do if left to my own devices.

‘Just give me a second, Sas. I want to ask the guide a question.’

Brad, without seemingly making any extra effort, glides ahead of me towards the tour guide.

I’m at the back of the group, and I can hear the Scottish couple talking, and the bloke from Brazil is taking photos with his phone.

I reach down and take a sip of my coffee.

The mug is between my legs and so I get it, open the top and take a sip.

It’s at this exact moment that I am sipping my coffee, and Brad is talking to the tour guide, that an enormous seagull decides to swoop down and attack me.

Fine, he doesn’t actually attack me, but he swoops down and buzzes past my head, which makes me freak out – I have been afraid of birds since childhood, and rightly so, they are scary – I drop my coffee, which spills onto my lap, which makes me jump up because it’s bloody hot, and then the next thing I know, my kayak has capsized and I am in the water – and it is bloody freezing!

A memory of the safety briefing at the kayak centre shoots through my head.

It was the moment we were told in a very light-hearted fashion that kayaks are super buoyant and almost impossible to capsize. Well, I proved them wrong!

The next minute goes by in a shambolic mixture of panic, fear – I am going to drown on my first date with Brad – and swallowing far more harbour water than I would like.

However, before I drown – which I actually can’t because I am wearing a life jacket – drink far too much disgusting water, or get attacked by the seagull again, a pair of strong arms are pulling me back onto my kayak.

‘You all right, Sas? What happened?’ says Brad, looking a mixture of stunned, concerned and, I imagine, embarrassed.

‘I don’t know. A seagull. My coffee.’

‘You’re okay now,’ says Brad with a warm smile. ‘I’ve got you.’

The tour guide circles around to check on me, but once he realises I’m okay, he continues on with the tour.

Brad and I stay back for a moment, while I get my bearings.

I am obviously completely soaked through, embarrassed, and my hair I spent so long doing prior to the date is slicked flat against my head.

I just want to get back to dry land. I look at Brad and smile.

‘Thanks for saving me. My hero.’

‘You’re welcome. Although,’ says Brad, looking concerned. ‘You have something in your hair.’

‘Fuck! What is it? Is it alive?’

‘Do you trust me?’

‘Hmm-mmm,’ I reply. What the fuck is in my hair? Brad leans forward and reaches towards me before he pulls a condom out of my hair. ‘You don’t want that on you, eh.’ Then he tosses the condom – presumably used – back into the water.

‘Oh my God, yuck! That’s so gross,’ I say, and I am completely mortified, but luckily it doesn’t seem to faze Brad.

‘Look, do you want to head back in?’

‘I’m sorry, but can we?’

‘Of course. Let me just tell the tour guide. Will you be okay on your own for a moment?’

‘I mean, I’d like to say yes, but—’

‘Just don’t move and you’ll be right. Give me a second.’

Brad swiftly kayaks off and tells the guide he’s taking me back to shore.

Within a minute, he is back and we slowly paddle our way back to shore, Brad looking as though he has just been on a nautical fashion shoot, while I look like I’ve spent the past week surviving on a rain-drenched desert island.

If I questioned at any point whether Brad and I were well-matched, our first date definitely clarified that we are not.

He is athletic, outgoing, gorgeous, and with a beautiful flat in Bondi, while I am a wannabe singer/care-worker, live at home with my mum, and I can’t even kayak without almost drowning.

We return to the kayak centre, and fortunately, Brad came prepared with towels. I get dried off as best as I can before he tells me he had planned on taking me out for breakfast, but if I want to get changed, I can go back to his flat and we can get breakfast there.

‘But I don’t have any clothes in Bondi,’ I say, and he smiles.

‘Leave that to me. So, you in?’

What can I say?

‘Go on then,’ I reply, and Brad orders an Uber, and we are soon driving through the streets of Sydney towards Bondi, my damp bottom squishing against the seat of the car.

When we get to his flat, he tells me to follow him into his second-bedroom he uses for an office. It’s another beautifully decorated room, all set up for work, but it also has a pull-out bed for guests and a built-in wardrobe.

‘Now, don’t think this is weird because it isn’t,’ says Brad, opening the wardrobe door.

‘I probably wouldn’t have until you said that. What’s inside? Your fetish wardrobe of women’s clothes you only wear on the weekend? No offence, Brad, but I’m not sure we’ll be the same size.’

‘I did some work for a leisurewear brand last year, all workout clothes to do with my chiropractic practice, and I ended up with some extra things, including some women’s stuff.

I meant to give it to my sister, but I just haven’t got around to it yet,’ says Brad, who reaches into the wardrobe and pulls out two boxes. ‘Have a look in here.’

I peer into one of the boxes, and it is full of workout bras, tops, shorts, and the other box is full of long sleeve tops, socks, and it all looks like really good stuff.

‘I’ll tell you what,’ says Brad. ‘I’ll nip out and get us some brekky while you get changed. Sound good?’

‘Yeah, okay,’ I say, looking at Brad. ‘You know, you aren’t the man I thought you were.’

‘You were expecting the beast and instead I’m more like the Prince fella he turns into?’

‘Something like that. Sorry I stuffed up the date, but before I capsized I was really enjoying it.’

I look into his gorgeous dark eyes, and he takes a step nearer to me.

‘Me too.’

‘I’m sorry you had to fish a condom out of my hair.’

‘I’m not,’ says Brad, and I take a step nearer to him.

‘Why? It was gross.’

‘But it gave us a funny first-date story.’

‘You are not telling people about the hair condom!’

‘I definitely am,’ says Brad, taking a step nearer until we are face to face.

‘But what if this is our only date?’

‘It’s not.’

‘You sound pretty confident about that,’ I say, my voice trailing off when he leans forward and kisses me.

All thoughts of the kamikaze seagull, of capsizing, the hair condom and the fact my underwear are still wet through, go out of the window, and I am kissing gorgeous Brad, and it is incredible.

I have no idea if we’re a good-match, whether our lives will fit together, if he’s the good guy he seems to be or the evil arsehole Jess tells me he is, but at this moment I don’t care.

He’s taking off my clothes, I’m taking off his, and we are walking/kissing back to his bedroom, my hands are on his amazing body, his hands are all over mine and we are going to have sex.