Page 67 of The Love Hack

My giddy excitement evaporated as quickly as it had arrived, replaced by a prickle of doubt – maybe I’d gone just a bit too far. But it was okay – it was only Ross watching me.

Ross and a roomful of strangers.

My face burning, I took a gulp of Diet Coke. ‘I’m fine. I was just… you know.’

Ross cleared his throat. ‘Anyway. I’ve got news for you.’

I felt a surge of excitement that almost – but not quite – wiped away my embarrassment. ‘You found Zack’s secret Instagram account?’

‘I did. And I can reliably inform you that every Thursday at about eight, when he’s finished work, he goes too the Campbell Apartment and has a dry martini, straight up with a twist.’

‘Seriously?’ Typical Zack, ordering the most James Bond cocktail in the world.

‘Seriously. At leat, he has done for the past three weeks. Hashtag thirstythursday might move on somewhere new after a while, but it would make sense for that to happen on a monthly basis. So tonight, if you go there, odd are you’ll spot him.’

‘Amazing! Thanks so much. I can’t believe you— How did you find out, anyway?’

‘Easy.’ He smiled smugly. ‘Bryony told me. She’s followed him on Insta for ages. I didn’t tell her why, just mentioned that a friend was in New York and looking for somewhere cool to drink, and she said Zack had raved about this place, and showed me his grid, and here we are.’

‘Right.’ My mouth felt all strange and numb, like when you’ve been to the dentist, and I was struggling to get the words out. ‘Looks like you nailed it. Thanks, Ross. I’d better go now – you know…’

I gestured vaguely at the people standing around waiting for a table.

’Gotcha. Let me know how it goes, okay?’ He sounded just the same as usual – well, just the same as he’d sounded recently, since things had stopped being weird between us.

It looked like they’d just got weird again.

‘Will do,’ I said, although I had no intention of speaking to him ever again, unless it was strictly necessary, like at work.

I ended the call and unpropped my phone. Then I looked down at my sandwich. Almost all of it was left, but I didn’t feel in the least bit hungry any more. It felt like a massive waste of food, but there was no way I could eat it, and no way I could take it out and give it to some homeless person, half-chewed as it was.

So I just left it, and what was left of my Diet Coke, although I was still hungry. I tucked a ten-dollar bill underneath the sugar canister, slipped my phone into my bag, and left.

And then, although my feet were still hurting from the previous day’s marathon sightsee, I walked and walked, barely noticing or caring where I was going.

I’d made a fool of myself. I’d let myself believe that I could be the kind of woman Ross might fancy – an extroverted, self-confident woman who travelled abroad on her own, who was capable, sassy and sexy.

And to try and prove it, I’d faked a bloody orgasm for him, on camera, in the middle of one of New York City’s top sightseeing spots.

I’d forgotten – or let myself forget – that he had a girlfriend. My sister’s friend.

She showed me his grid – that meant in person, not over WhatsApp or whatever. He was still seeing Bryony. It was early evening in London, so he was probably on a date with her right now. I imagined the two of them sitting together in some trendy bar somewhere, drinking cocktails, and Ross saying, ‘Hey, don’t suppose you know of any good places like this Stateside? My mate’s over there at the moment.’

Mate. He’d even called me mate. I bet he didn’t call Bryony mate.

And then I’d seen fit to stage a spot of amateur porn while she went for a wee or out for a vape.

Or worse still, sitting right there opposite him while he looked at my fake O-face on his screen.

I couldn’t do this. I was no better at relationships with men now than I had been four years ago, when I’d let Kieren use me and humiliate me.

I deserved to be alone – and it was just as well I was used to it, because clearly that was how I was going to stay.

My furious speed-walking had carried me quite a way from Katz’s Deli by now, and I realised I was lost. I didn’t want to sightsee any more; I wanted to go home. Except of course home was thousands of miles and many time zones away. I wanted my sister, except I was hiding a secret from her that I couldn’t reveal until I’d confirmed if it was true.

Blindly, I walked down into the nearest subway station, figured out the best way back to Brooklyn and boarded a train.

Half an hour later, I was back in the apartment, my laptop on my knees. I’d been neglecting work, but I was going to make up for it now. I was going to compose a reply to Kit, and I didn’t need any AI to help me do it.

---