Page 13 of The One That Got Away

‘No, it’s a proper meet cute! Or you could pretend to drown infront of him and he could do a Zac Efron inBaywatchand dive in to save you!’

‘Knowing me, though, I probably would drown!’

‘Anyway, what you wearing?’

‘Can’t decide. What d’you think? This one?’ I held up the orange dress. ‘Or this?’ I put the pink one against me.

‘Which one shows the most boob and arse?’ she laughed.

‘Neither!’ I rolled my eyes. ‘I’m trying to find someone who will be interested in my mind and sparkling personality, not just the size of my tits!’

‘You do have a great rack, though. If I had your chest, I’d definitely be flaunting my assets on the first date.’

‘That settles it. I’m definitely going for the loose-fitting maxi dress. Then I can be sure he likes me for me.’

‘Spoilsport! What time’s the date?’

‘In exactly forty-nine minutes and I still need to do my hair, make-up and get dressed so I better go.’

‘Okay! And let me know how it all goes! If this all works out, maybe I’ll apply too!’

‘I’ll keep you posted. Bye.’

Forty minutes later, I was picking up my key card and heading to the door. I took one final glance at myself in the full-length mirror. I hadn’t scrubbed up too badly. I’d sent a selfie to Mum and Samantha (or Sammie as I usually liked to call her) ten minutes ago and they’d both replied with lots of love heart eyes, fire and thumbs up emojis which was a good sign.

As I closed the door and set off down the path towards the restaurant, my heart thundered through my chest.

I’d barely been outside for two minutes and I could already feel sweat pooling on my hairline. I quickly reached into my handbag and dabbed my forehead, taking care not to smudge my make-up.

When I arrived at the restaurant, I took a deep breath then opened the door.

The handsome maître d’ greeted me with a warm smile.

‘Stella?’ he asked.

‘That’s me!’

‘Welcome to Aphrodisiac. My name is Manuel and I will be your Dining Director this evening.’

‘Lovely to meet you, Manuel,’ I said, thinking how funny it was that everyone had weird job titles.

‘Your date has not arrived yet. Perhaps you would like a drink at the bar while you wait?’

‘Sounds lovely.’

I took a seat at the bar and went for the barman’s, oops, sorry,Chief Mixologist’ssangria recommendation which slipped down very nicely. Perhaps a little too well, because before I knew it, my glass was half empty.

I glanced at my watch. It was ten past nine. He was late. That wasn’t a good sign.So much for being my Mr Right. If the matchmakers really knew me, they’d understand that I hated being late and I hated when other people were too. Sometimes it couldn’t be avoided, but I doubted that was the case today.

Everyone had to arrive at the hotel at least three hours before their scheduled date. So he couldn’t blame his lateness on the traffic or getting lost.

Then I felt guilty for being too harsh. Maybe he was nervous. Or…

Oh, God. I hoped he hadn’t stood me up. Wouldn’t be the first time that’d happened. I downed the rest of my drink as I thought about how mortifying that would be.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and I instantly relaxed. I hadn’t been stood up. I put on my best smile then spun around ready to greet him.

But it wasn’t my date. It was Manuel.

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