LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

more worthwhile, something that makes me feel like I’m doing something important. What do you do?’

      ‘I am a global programme manager for an environmental charity.’

      ‘Now that’s a worthwhile job,’ I reply, feeling slightly jealous.

      ‘Sometimes we have PR crises,’ he says.

      ‘Oh really?’

      ‘The pinta tortoise became extinct in 2012 – on our watch. Where were we?!’

      ‘Are you allowed to make jokes about extinct animals?’ I ask, before I dare laugh at his comment that I’m sure was solely intended just to put me at ease about my crap job.

      ‘They never kick off about it,’ he replies. ‘Not like angry anti-fur activists.’

      Oh, that’s what he was referring to a moment ago. The fact that, last year, ABO was caught up in the big scandal where it was revealed many high-street and online retailers were selling items made from real fur, that were labelled faux fur.

      ‘Where are you from?’ he asks.

      ‘I grew up outside Manchester,’ I tell him. ‘But I live in Manchester now. You?’

      ‘London. Lived there all my life too.’

      ‘You just don’t see that kind of loyalty to hometowns anymore, do you?’ I joke.

      ‘You don’t,’ he replies. ‘It’s almost everything that’s wrong with the world. Well, that and your company selling mittens made of racoon dog fur.’

      ‘We hate fat people too, don’t forget that,’ I joke.

      ‘And yet you probably love fat animals,’ he replies. ‘Because they have the most fur.’

      ‘I’ll be sure to tell our CEO. Her inexplicable, blind dislike of anyone bigger than a size ten might have prevented her from realising that.’

      It’s so nice, sitting here with Pete, having a drink, eating cake, and making jokes with one another. If there is any way tomorrow can just be more of the same, it might not be so bad after all. Before I know it, nearly an hour has gone by.

      ‘We made short work of the cake,’ he says, nodding towards our empty plate.

      ‘We did,’ I reply. ‘Teamwork makes the dream work.’

      ‘It does,’ he laughs. ‘Just think what damage we can do to the wedding cake tomorrow.’

      We smile at each other for a second, until we’re interrupted by the bar man.

      ‘Bar’s closing,’ he says. As soon as he realises he’s interrupting something, he quickly adds, ‘In five minutes.’

      ‘Well, I’d better get to bed,’ I say. ‘Don’t want to be late in the morning.’

      ‘Same,’ he says. ‘But … I’d love to spend more time with you tomorrow.’

      ‘I’d like that a lot.’ I feel a big, dumb smile spread across my face.

      Pete’s gaze quickly moves from my eyes to my lips.

      ‘Is that cake frosting?’ he asks with a laugh.

      Mortified, I quickly raise my hand to wipe my face.

      ‘I’ll get it,’ he says, leaning forward to lightly plant his lips on mine.

      I don’t know if there actually was any frosting on my face, or if this was just a smooth move to kiss me – you never know, he might have just really loved the cake – but I feel like I’m floating on air right now. I cannot stress enough that this sort of thing just does not happen to me. Maybe it wouldn’t be happening to me at all, if we weren’t a little tipsy.

      But then it hits me, all at once, the grave mistake I think I’ve made. The red car, the one that overtook me, the one that arrived just before me – didn’t Pete say he’d just arrived too? Now, this type of stuff absolutely does happen to me – scaring off potential love interests by leaving them passive aggressive notes.

      I quickly pull away.

      ‘Sorry,’ he blurts. ‘I shouldn’t have …’

      ‘No, it’s not that,’ I say. ‘Did you drive here?’

      ‘I did,’ he replies, confused as to why this is at all relevant to why I wouldn’t want to kiss him.

      Crap.

      ‘What do you drive?’ I ask.

      ‘A Nissan Leaf – a blue one. It’s an electric car … why?’ he laughs.

      Double crap. It wasn’t even him. Now I just seem like I really care about cars.

      ‘Sorry. It’s just that, when I arrived, I nearly had an accident with another car, and when I saw it in the car park, I left an angry note. I was worried it might have been your car.’

      Pete laughs.

      ‘It sounds like you have a very eventful life, Luca.’

      ‘I really don’t.’

      ‘Well, maybe we can try this again tomorrow?’ he suggests.

      ‘That would be great.’

      ‘It will be nice to have someone to spend the day with, seeing as though we’re the sad, single friends.’

      I playfully wince.

      ‘Too soon to make jokes like that?’ he asks.

      ‘Too real,’ I reply with a smile.

      ‘Sweet dreams, Luca,’ he says, leaving me alone in the bar.

      I sigh. Wow. When I repeatedly turned down Matt and Kat’s offer of a plus one (not because I didn’t want one, but because I had no one to ask) I felt certain I’d be alone at this wedding and, look at me now, I’ve got a date.

      I knock back the last of my drink before heading to my room.

      They’ve given me a twin room – which I suspect is because they knew I’d be coming alone – but it’s a lovely big room with a stunning view of the hotel gardens. Even though it’s dark, I can see the marquee across the lawn, where I imagine the wedding reception will be held tomorrow.

      Suddenly I don’t care about anything. I don’t care that I’m here alone, I don’t care that I’ve got a twin room because I’m oh-so very single, I don’t even care that I am single, or that I have a morally iffy job. All I can think about is Pete, and that kiss … and now I can’t wait until morning.

       Chapter 3

      Then – 9^th September 2008

      ‘What … the fuck … is this?’ Matt asks, staring down at his plate.

      We’re all staring down at our plates. Clarky isn’t though, he’s gleefully slapping the bottom of a bottle of salad cream, dropping large blobs all over his dinner.

      When he placed … whatever this is in front of me, I didn’t think it could get any worse, but the addition of salad cream makes it so, so much worse. I’m so relieved it is an optional extra.

      ‘What’s wrong with it?’ Clarky asks.

      ‘What’s right with it?’ Zach chimes in. His Glaswegian accent always sounds stronger when he’s confused or when he’s drunk. Today, I think he’s just confused.

      Clarky looks genuinely baffled by our reaction. He stabs a little sausage meaningfully and pops it in his mouth.

      ‘Mmm, it’s great,’ he insists theatrically.

      ‘It’s weird,’ Fiona corrects

Скачать книгу