Page 24 of Strictly the Worst

“Yeah. You just told me the truth, so I’m going to tell you one. Quid Pro Quo.”

“Isn’t that what Hannibal said to Clarice?” A shudder snakes down my spine. I hated that movie. I remember watching it as a kid and not being able to sleep for days.

“Who’s Hannibal?” he asks, frowning.

“It doesn’t matter. Tell me your secret.” Because I’m stupidly invested in this honesty thing now. At least until it’s my turn again.

“You’re the first person I’ve met who doesn’t like me,” he says.

It takes a moment for the words to sink in. And when they do, I shake my head. “That’s not your secret.”

“It is.”

“Lots of people must hate you.” The words slip out before I think them through. But luckily he throws his head back and starts laughing. “Wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” I protest.

He can’t stop laughing, though. His face starts to redden and I’m starting to worry he’s going to choke.

“Are you crying?” I ask him.

“I think so,” he manages, spluttering out the words.

When he gets his breath back I try to explain again. “You can’t go through life without people hating you,” I say. “Some of them do it for no reason at all.”

“Like my brother and his wife.” Linc nods, sagely.

“They hate each other? Are they getting a divorce?” I ask him.

“No, they’re horribly in love. But they started out hating each other. Worked at the same company actually.”

“Well isn’t that a lovely lawsuit waiting to happen?” I grin.

“But seriously,” he says, his eyes catching mine. They’re a striking blue. “Nobody hates me.”

“That’s not possible. You must have an ex or two with little Linc mannequins full of pins,” I say.

“Nope. I’m friends with all my exes. Was the chief bridesman to one a couple of years ago.” Now he looks smug.

“What about at work? It’s not just me who finds you…”

“Finds me what?” He looks like he’s enjoying himself a little too much. He smiles over at the bar and nods at somebody before bringing his gaze back to me.

“Challenging,” I say.

“Nobody finds me challenging,” he says, as the server brings us over two more cocktails. Our fourth round. I shouldn’t drink anymore, my words are starting to slur. Even worse, I’m starting to like this man. Rum has a lot to answer for. Still, I thank the server and take a long sip of the glorious cocktail.

“They find me charming,” he says, winking at the server. She blushes and grins back at him. “Not challenging.”

I shrug. “Okay, so it’s only me. I’ve ruined your unblemished record.”

“You’re right.” He nods, looking thoughtful. “But I’m winning you over, aren’t I?”

“The cocktails are winning me over,” I tell him. “You’re just basking in their glory.”

He laughs again. “By the end of this week, I guarantee you’ll be putty in my hands.”

“You’re very sure of yourself,” I say, gazing at him coolly.

“I just know who I am. Don’t get me wrong, you’re my toughest win yet, but I’m going to do it.”

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