‘Erm, yeah, I guess I just got in,’ I say with an awkward chuckle.
Millsy’s eyes widen.
‘It’s safe to say your day has turned around, then. I’ll drink to that.’
My new friend orders a drink. As I watch him chatting with the barman as if they’re old friends, I can’t quite believe I’m here, at this bar, with a stranger.
‘Let’s sit down,’ Millsy suggests, picking up our drinks, nodding towards a seating area.
‘OK,’ I reply. I still feel like a rabbit caught in the headlights.
We head over to a large area of the room dominated by massive white sofas. Somehow, the music is just a touch quieter over here, making it easier to chat.
‘Are you OK?’ he asks me. ‘You look a little…’
‘Oh, no, I’m fine,’ I insist. ‘I don’t usually do things like this.’
Millsy just laughs.
‘Is it weird that I find it weird that you’re being nice to me?’ I ask honestly.
‘It sounds like maybe you’ve been let down by people,’ he reasons. ‘Although, in hindsight, maybe this does make me look like a creep. I don’t know. I didn’t really think about it that way. You just looked like you needed a friend. I promise I’m not up to anything although, the more I insist I’m not, the more I fear you’ll think I am.’
I laugh. Somehow this puts me at ease.
‘Was that your girlfriend who you walked home?’ I ask.
‘My friend,’ he says, with extra emphasis. ‘My best friend. Well, yeah, I guess we are still best friends, but I don’t see so much of her any more. She’s getting married soon.’
‘Oh,’ I say. I suppose that makes sense. If he has female friends, he probably wouldn’t have thought twice about chatting with me. ‘No girlfriend, then?’
Why am I even asking?
‘Are you trying to work out if I’m gay?’ he asks with a cheeky smile. ‘Just because I have female friends and get my eyebrows threaded?’
I hadn’t noticed his eyebrows were so well groomed, which I suppose is testament to the beauty therapist’s work. As part of the bigger picture, they just add to his general good looks.
‘I wasn’t getting at that,’ I insist.
‘I have lots of respect for women,’ he says. ‘I just don’t want a girlfriend.’
‘Fair enough,’ I reply.
It must be hard for him, if his best friend has drifted away from him. I totally get that. I feel bad for questioning his motives now.
‘What do you do for work?’ I ask him.
‘I’m an actor,’ he replies. ‘I’ve done a lot of theatre, and I have a few random gigs I do now and then.’
‘Oh, God, you’re not famous, are you?’ I blurt. It would be so like me to meet someone famous and be totally oblivious.
‘Not really, no,’ he says. ‘I do a lot of local theatre. I made my small-screen debut recently, in a toothpaste advert. I was the man who used the electric toothbrush though, not the before guy.’
'God forbid you would be cast as the person who uses the manual toothbrush,’ I reply sarcastically.
‘Not with these pearly whites. Check them out,’ he insists, leaning in.
Millsy flashes me an enormous, flawless grin.
‘Nice,’ I say.
‘I’m trying to break into movies,’ he tells me. ‘It’s a long game though. What do you do?’
‘I design escape rooms,’ I say.
‘You design what?’
‘Escape rooms. They’re like puzzle rooms. People do them for fun. Did you ever watch The Crystal Maze?’
‘I remember it, sort of, from when I was younger,’ he replies.
‘Not a million miles off that,’ I say. ‘It’s just lots of puzzles in one room.’
‘That’s pretty cool,’ he says. ‘You must be pretty smart.’
‘Naaah,’ I reply – I’ve never been great at taking compliments. ‘Just a bit dorky.’
‘Well, everyone loves a dork,’ he says with a big, reassuring smile. I’m sure that can’t be true and yet somehow he has me convinced.
‘Tell that to everyone in my life,’ I reply. ‘I’m persona non grata in my family. The last man standing on Matcher stood me up.’
‘Ah,’ he says, a knowing look in his eye. ‘Yeah, I gave up on those apps a long time ago. I don’t think you’ll find anything meaningful on there.’
‘I see that now,’ I say with a half-hearted laugh. ‘I was kind of amazed that someone spoke to me at the bar here. No one approaches me – not ever.’
Millsy looks at me thoughtfully. I can practically see the cogs turning and I wonder what on earth is going through his mind.
‘Do you always wear a lot of black?’ he asks me.
‘Yeah, pretty much,’ I reply.
‘Always covering a lot of skin too?’
He nods towards my tights.
‘Kind of,’ I say. ‘But this is just because I haven’t shaved my legs.’
Oh, God, why on earth did I tell him that?
Millsy laughs.
‘Perhaps, in the context of this place, you seem like a cool, gothic, artistic type. Some guys are really into that. I think you look good.’
I’m sure he’s just being polite.
‘What are most guys drawn to?’ I ask. ‘You can tell me honestly.’
‘Honestly… most guys are drawn towards bright, shiny things. Bold clothes, skin… I’m just as bad sometimes.’
‘You’re not telling me anything I didn’t know already,’ I reassure him. ‘Thanks for being honest.’
‘Not that you should change yourself for anyone,’ he insists. ‘You’re obviously a cool person.’
Do I look unapproachable? Are my dark clothes, combined with my lacking-in-confidence demeanour, putting men off me? Jackson did say I looked nervous…
I always thought I was happy with who I was but, I don’t know, maybe I’ve just been settling. Perhaps there is some middle ground, somewhere between refusing to diet to fit into a dress and actually looking like a friendly, approachable person.
‘Maybe I should force myself out of my comfort zone, buy some colours, shave my legs and burn my tights. Maybe I’ll watch a few more daring YouTube make-up tutorials, get my hair done…’
‘I could help, you know,’ Millsy says. ‘I haven’t paid for a haircut in years. I have friends who work in hair, beauty, styling – all desperate for models for portfolio work. You could wake up in the morning and go to bed a whole new person. Worst-case scenario, you’ll look hot. Best case, it will give you the confidence boost you’re after.’
I just stare at him for a moment.
‘I’m not gay,’ he insists again with a laugh. ‘Or trying to have sex with you. I’ve always had a female best friend. And, truth be told, I’m a bit bored at the moment.’
‘Is that why you’re looking out for me?’ I laugh. ‘Because you’re bored?’
‘I… don’t know why I am,’ he replies, equally bemused. ‘But, well, are you free tomorrow?’