Page 24 of The Last Train Home
‘We can’t do that. I have to go to work in a few hours.’
‘Ye of little faith,’ I say, straightening up and topping up our glasses. ‘Let’s go.’
He shuffles the cards, maintaining eye contact, which is kind of eerie, but also kind of hot and kind of impressive. And then a thought enters my head and I say it out loud. ‘The more I drink, the better looking you get,’ I say.
‘Thanks,’ he says with genuine warmth. And then, ‘Wait, what?’
I double over with laughter because that’s not what I meant to say at all, but it’s far funnier than what I was actually going to say.
‘That sounded different in my head,’ I say, trying not to snort.
He puts the cards down, our game abandoned. ‘Why aren’t you with someone?’ he asks.
‘Comments like the one I just made,’ I say, taking a big drink from my glass. I pick up the discarded cards and start shuffling absent-mindedly. Even when drunk, I can’t sit still these days – I need something to do or else I start thinking.
‘You know you’re really fun, right,’ he says. ‘And nice. And … gorgeous.’ He takes a big swig from his glass. ‘And those legs!’ He whistles between his teeth.
‘I haven’t been single for long,’ I say. ‘About five months. I wasn’t really into my last relationship and it sort of fizzled out. He was a bit of a workaholic.’
‘I know the feeling,’ Tom says.
‘I’ve been speed-dating a couple of times since with Natasha,’ I say in my own defence, although I’m not sure this is anything to be proud of.
‘Christ, how desperatewereyou? Speed-dating is awful. I hated every second of it. Whoever invented it is a sadist.’ Tom downs his drink and gets up to go to the kitchen.
I follow him. ‘So you’ve been speed-dating.’
‘Never again,’ he vows. ‘I went because Sean convinced me to join him. I’m better as a wingman.’
‘Sean seems nice,’ I say.
Tom’s gone quiet now. All the fun of the fair is over and we’ve gone into serious territory again. This keeps happening.
‘Yeah. He’s all right.’
‘You’re a terrible wingman. Aren’t you supposed to big up your friend?’
‘To you?’ he says. ‘Why would I big him up to you?’
‘He asked me for my number,’ I confess.
‘Did he?’ Tom’s voice just went really high. ‘That’s a bold move. Did you give it to him?’
‘Yeah.’
He stops, stares at me. ‘Why?’
‘Why did I give him my number? Because he’s friendly, we got on really well and, as I’ve discovered with you, it’s nice to make new friends. And he got the first round in, even though he’d never met me before.’
‘I knew that was going to come back to haunt me.’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask with a laugh.
‘Never mind, go on.’
‘There’s not much more than that really. I met a nice guy in a bar, who comes … well, not highly recommended by his friend,’ I shoot Tom a look, ‘but with enough of a seal of approval to convince me he’s not an axe murderer.’
‘Sounds romantic,’ he deadpans.
