Girls Night Out 3 E-Book Bundle. Gemma Burgess

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СКАЧАТЬ about her!’

      Robert starts laughing again.

      ‘Plum!’ I say brightly, trying to ignore Robert. ‘Of course. She’s one of my best friends. What do you want to know?’

      ‘Where does she live? I want to meet someone who’s also south of the river,’ he says.

      The rest of the three minutes is filled by telling Josh all about Plum. Hopefully she won’t get annoyed.

      By the time Josh leaves, I’m sweating lightly.

      ‘Thanks for nothing,’ I hiss into my earpiece.

      ‘And you thought it was going to be all about you. Serves you right for being arrogant.’

      ‘I thought arrogance was good.’

      ‘Only if it’s funny.’

      The next dates are easier: perfectly nice guys, none of them particularly interesting, funny or good-looking. I’m not feeling with it enough to apply myself to the task of conversing, so each speed date drifts pointlessly through predictable questions and answers. All of them probably think I’m strange, as I keep grinning when Robert makes little comments about them into my ear.

      ‘I’m an entrepreneur,’ says one.

      ‘Pimp,’ says Robert.

      ‘I love travelling,’ says another.

      ‘Sex tourist.’

      ‘Have you been to Canada?’ says the smoothest of the bunch.

      ‘Serial killer.’

      And then Skinny Jeans sits down.

      ‘Abigail,’ he says. ‘I thought it was you.’

      ‘Hi!’ I say loudly. ‘Mark!’

      ‘Who?’ says Robert. Fuck, he doesn’t know his real name. Why do I give everyone stupid nicknames?

      ‘I almost don’t recognise you out of your SKINNY JEANS,’ I enunciate carefully. He’s wearing grey flannel trousers and a pink T-Shirt with leather Converses. He speaks clothes exceptionally confidently for a straight man. I wonder if he’d take me shopping.

      ‘Oh, right. Got it.’

      ‘That’s odd,’ says Skinny Jeans. ‘Since I was wearing nothing at all when you left my room without saying goodbye . . . let’s see, seven weeks ago?’

      ‘Um, yes. Well, you know . . .’ I trail off. Come on, Robert, I think desperately.

      ‘I’m sorry, were you planning on making me breakfast in bed?’ says Robert. Yes! Make a joke!

      ‘I’m sorry, were you planning on making me breakfast in bed?’ I say.

      Skinny Jeans grins.

      ‘Scrambled eggs? Toast? On a little tray?’

      ‘Scrambled eggs? Toast? On a little tray with a rose on it?’ I say.

      ‘Don’t fuck with my script,’ says Robert, which makes me grin slightly more broadly.

      ‘Find yourself hilarious, huh?’ says Skinny Jeans.

      ‘I’m a great audience,’ I reply, without thinking.

      ‘Cute line,’ says Robert.

      ‘Well, whatever . . .’ says Skinny Jeans. ‘I had a good time anyway. I was just . . . surprised not to hear from you.’

      ‘I’m sure you got over it,’ says Robert.

      ‘I’m sure you got over it,’ I say, in a slightly teasing tone.

      ‘I don’t know why I expected a girl like you to want to see me again, anyway,’ says Skinny Jeans, half to himself.

      ‘What does that mean? A girl like me?’

      ‘Cocky. Funny. Hot,’ he says.

      I start laughing. ‘I was so nervous on our date . . .’

      He raises an eyebrow. ‘You were?’

      ‘Don’t talk about feelings . . . talk about booze,’ instructs Robert.

      ‘Have some more wine,’ I say. I fill up his glass as slowly as I can, and then mine. How long can three minutes possibly last?

      ‘Do you remember rubbing the fat guy’s tummy for luck? Holy shit, that was hilarious.’

      ‘Uh, yeah,’ I say. I do remember it, kind of.

      ‘And singing all the words to Smokey Joe’s Cafe in that kebab shop on Portobello Road? And getting everyone in the shop to join in?’

      ‘Erm, yeah, that was smashing.’ Nope, don’t remember that at all.

      ‘You are one classy lady.’

      ‘It was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time,’ says Skinny Jeans.

      ‘Yeah . . .’ I say doubtfully. ‘What are you doing here, anyway? You don’t strike me as the speed dating type.’

      ‘I lost a bet with Alfie,’ he says. ‘You met him at The Cow that day . . .?’ Waistcoat Guy, I think, nodding. ‘I said to him that if you didn’t text me back then I’d try speed dating, because I’m officially the worst single man in London.’

      ‘You’re not!’ I say. ‘I mean, it wasn’t a bad date. I was just . . .’

      ‘Don’t say you were drunk! It’s the biggest post-sex insult ever.’

      ‘. . . drunk, I mean drinking, a bit more than I ought, and I was, uh, cringing at the thought that I’d been a nightmare date.’

      ‘No. You were great,’ says Mark/Skinny Jeans.

      ‘Actually, the biggest post-sex insult is “we did?”’ says Robert. ‘But that’s another story.’

      I laugh out loud and quickly turn it into a girlish giggle and try to focus on Skinny Jeans. ‘Well, anyway. It’s nice to see you now.’

      ‘You too,’ he says. ‘Any chance of a second date?’

      ‘This is a second date,’ says Robert.

      ‘This is a second date,’ I say. Good time-buying, I think.

      ‘Then . . . a third?’ he says.

      ‘Sounds like fun. Have your people call my people.’

      ‘Sounds like fun,’ I repeat. ‘Have your people call my people.’

      ‘I get it,’ says Skinny Jeans, СКАЧАТЬ