Page 7 of It's All Sun and Games

But then, just as quickly as my smile appears, it is wiped from my face the second I spot Liz catching up to him. My heart sinks as I watch her hook her arm with his, clinging to him as they make their way over to our table together. It’s like a punch to the stomach, seeing them together like that, all chummy and cosy – and the fact that she looks so smugly satisfied that they just arrived together makes it even worse.

I hate that I feel jealous right now – in fact, I need to push those thoughts from my brain, because it’s stupid. Mind over matter, right? There’s nothing to be jealous about; he’s about as into her as he is me, which is not at all.

I slap on my best fake smile to greet them.

After swapping greetings, we all settle into our seats – me, Priya, Liz, James, Cait and Henry, AKA the supposed dream team (although it feels more like a nightmare most of the time).

Suddenly it feels like everyone is waiting with bated breath to hear what brilliant ideas the expert in Italian culture – me, ha! – has to offer. And honestly, I wish I did have something to bring to the table, but the truth is, I’ve got nothing. Potentially less than nothing, actually, because last night it was my mum who chose an ‘Italian’ movie for us, with the goal of giving me something to work with today. However, my mum being my mum, she decided to choose one of her favourite movies – one that she claimed was Italian, and, well, it wasn’t. The film she chose was Captain Corelli’s Mandolin which, fair enough, has Italians in it, but generally speaking it’s actually set in Greece, and being set against a World War II backdrop really didn’t help either.

Typically it’s all I can think about, sitting at the table with a bunch of expectant faces staring at me, when all I’ve got to offer is a surprisingly decent impression of Nicolas Cage’s Italian accent because Tom and I spent the whole movie taking the piss out of it. Nic Cage’s accent was about as Italian as the pizza we ate.

‘How about I get some drinks in?’ I suggest, trying to delay the inevitable – them finding out that I actually have zero good ideas. At this point, buying a round (and taking the financial hit) seems like a more viable option than making a fool of myself in front of everyone. Plus, after a few drinks, the crap ideas that I freestyle might not seem so, well, crap.

After everyone barks their orders at me, I head over to the bar, pushing my way through the crowd.

I sigh heavily as I wait to be served – because this is another fine mess I’ve got myself into.

Leaning on the bar, I try to muster up some enthusiasm as I order our drinks, but it’s a struggle. I’m dreading going back there and making a fool of myself.

‘Wow, you don’t look very happy.’ A deep voice pulls me from my thoughts.

I turn to see a man – a kind of good-looking guy – standing beside me, his dark hair ruffled in a way that suggests he doesn’t spend too much time worrying about appearances – ditto his stubbly beard. But he has kind eyes and a friendly smile.

‘I’m having drinks with work people,’ I say, shrugging it off, letting him know I’m okay.

He chuckles.

‘That’s why I never drink with people from work,’ he tells me. ‘After I’ve had a few, there’s always a danger that I might tell them all what I really think.’

I laugh, feeling a little more at ease in his presence – well, he is still a random man at the bar, even if he is a handsome and funny one.

‘Yeah, I don’t blame you,’ I reply. ‘Perhaps one day I might snap and do the same.’

Before our conversation can go any further, Liz pushes her way between us, her forceful presence immediately putting an end to our vaguely flirty chat.

‘Robin, what’s taking so long?’ she asks, even though it’s been little more than a couple of minutes.

She doesn’t wait for a reply. Without missing a beat, Liz turns her attention to the man beside me, her flirting so blatant it’s almost painful to watch. She’s laying it on seriously thick, batting her eyelashes and flashing a smile, practically dancing on the spot in a blatant attempt to steal his attention away from me.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes as I pay for our drinks and go to pick up the tray in front of me.

‘I’ll catch you up,’ Liz informs me with a smirk as she snatches up her drink from the tray. Then she turns to the man. ‘Hi, I’m Liz.’

‘Hi, Liz, I’m Max,’ he replies, clearly into it.

Oh, boy. She really can’t let me have anything, can she? The second she sees a guy talking to me and she has to have him for herself.

I make my way back to the table, handing out the drinks before taking my seat back next to Priya.

James raises an eyebrow as he notices Liz chatting up the man at the bar.

‘So, what’s Liz up to?’ James asks curiously, glancing over at her with interest.

I shrug, trying to sound unbothered, but I’m very bothered – bothered by how bothered he seems. Did I mention I was bothered?

‘Talking to a man,’ I reply, keeping my tone casual.

James’s gaze lingers on Liz for a moment longer before returning to me.

---