Page 39 of The Love Hack

I got the real deal.

‘At school, I was the fat kid,’ he said. ‘You know I don’t have any brothers and sisters, right? And my mum – cooking’s her love language. By the time I started uni I’d turned into a right chonk.’

‘So what changed?’

‘I wish I knew.’ He spread his hands, palms upwards, almost spilling his drink on me. ‘Sorry. It was like, I’d developed this persona – chubby Chiraag, always the clown of the group. When I went out with my mates, I’d play wing man because I didn’t think girls would be interested in me. And then one morning – literally, just like that – I decided it didn't have to be that way. My dad’s type two diabetic and I was heading that way myself. My grandpa’s had problems with his heart for years. I decided I was going to change.’

‘And you did – just like that?’

He laughed. ‘I wish it was that easy. It took me two years to lose twenty-five kilos and get fit enough to run a half marathon. And then I celebrated with an extra large Papa Johns meal and backslid a bit.’

‘Papa Johns, though – can’t say I blame you.’

‘I know, right? But I got back on track. And I realised fitness was something that makes me happy. It makes me feel good about myself. I’m proud of my body for the first time ever. Not just how it looks?—’

‘You do look great, to be fair.’

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. ‘Thanks, Lucy. That – and compliments like that – they’re a bonus, you know? But it’s really about how I feel. It’s changed me for the better.’

‘I can tell. You must be really proud.’

He smiled self-deprecatingly, and for a second I saw the old Chiraag, the awkward fat boy who watched his mates get all the girls. ‘You’re a good listener, Lucy. You should be a journalist or something.’

‘I try my best.’

He finished his drink, looked at his watch and said, ‘I guess I should make a move. Five a.m. start in the morning.’

‘It was great chatting to you. Sleep well.’

To my amazement, he leaned in and dropped a kiss on both my cheeks, then turned and said his goodbyes to everyone else.

I headed to the bar to get a round in, picking the spot closest to where Ross and Marco were standing, Ross’s back to me.

‘So you’re out with your hot hen again this weekend?’ Marco was saying.

I edged closer, straining to hear their conversation.

I couldn’t see Ross, but I imagined him nodding. ‘Round to hers for cocktails on Saturday. Her sister’s going to be there and some of their mates and their other halves.’

Nice, I thought bitterly. Cosy. Next he’ll be meeting her parents.

‘Nice,’ Marco echoed. ’So it’s going well then?’

‘Yeah, kinda,’ Ross said.

I was listening so intently I could hear the scrape of his trainers on the floor as he shuffled his feet. Then the barman leaned over and asked what he could get me, and for a second my mind went blank before I gabbled out the order.

‘Not sure, really,’ Ross was saying. Damn, how much did I miss? ‘I mean, I like her. She’s a nice girl. But I feel like she’s more into me than I’m into her, and I don’t know whether I should say anything about that.’

‘Say what?’ Marco laughed. ‘“Babe, you’re all right for a shag but this isn’t going anywhere?” Go on, try it, and let me know how hard she kicks you in the nuts.’

I heard the shuffle of Ross’s feet again, and imagined him ducking his head, grinning ruefully. The barman passed our drinks across the bar and I tapped my phone on the card reader he held out to me.

‘Feel kind of bad,’ Ross was saying. ‘Like, I asked her out. We haven’t had the exclusive talk exactly but she’s not seeing anyone else and I’m not either. But it?—’

A blast of laughter from a few places along the bar drowned out whatever he said next, and then Marco said, ‘Pint?’

Ross said, ‘Yeah, go on then. Thanks mate.’

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