Page 31 of The Gin Lover's Guide to Dating

We approach the food counter where Josh hands me a plastic tray and we work our way along the offerings, helping ourselves. It’s no gourmet cuisine, but I’m far from disappointed, especially after Reyes made it sound so awful. There’s a salad bar with a wide array of cold meats, chicken, quiches and different types of salad, and a hot buffet bursting with delicious-smelling, steaming hot steak pie, macaroni cheese, roast chicken, a nice-looking fish dish and huge metal trays of potatoes, chips and vegetables. Although I’m starving, I opt only for a few bits and pieces from the salad bar, and a couple of chips, unsure of the etiquette of the place. I quickly realise I needn’t have bothered; when I turn round to ask Josh if he has a preference on where to sit, I see that his plate is piled mountainously with what looks like about three meals in one.

‘Is that all you’re having?’ He looks at me in astonishment. ‘This is all you’ll get till you go home late tonight.’

‘Err… yeah, I’m not that hungry.’ I silently kick myself for not taking more, now too embarrassed to return and fill my plate.

‘You women.’ Josh shakes his head. ‘All on bloody diets. It’s tragic.’

‘I’m not on a diet.’ I raise my eyebrows at him. ‘I’m just not hungry. And I object to the sweeping sexist comment.’

‘Ooh, she’s a feisty one.’ Josh grins. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean for it to come across that way.’

‘Apology accepted.’ I soften my tone, realising that I’d be best to keep my argumentative side under wraps, particularly when I’m going to need all the allies I can get against Clara.

We take a seat and start chatting over our food. I finish mine at least ten minutes ahead of Josh. He tells me about his job, how he worked his way up through the hotel, and about his beloved dog, Bruno, who his neighbour looks after while he’s at work. Josh asks me a whole load of questions about where I grew up and what I did before starting at the hotel – all of which I expertly parry. Instead I keep the conversation light and banterous, which isn’t difficult. I can tell Josh is one of life’s less serious types.

‘Game of pool?’ he asks, as he clears away both our plates.

‘Maybe just a quick one.’ I nod, deciding that, not only is bonding with Josh good for my survival in this place, he’s also immensely pleasant to talk to and look at. ‘I’ll need to get back to the bar soon.’

‘Great.’ He heads to the pool table, inserts a couple of coins into the machine and the balls come clattering out from inside the table.

Josh quickly sets them up in a triangle on the green felt table-top, expertly shifting the balls around to ensure they’re all in the correct position.

‘You can break.’ He hands me a cue and a cube of blue chalk.

As I chalk the top of the cue absent-mindedly, the action unexpectedly triggers a something in my mind, causing me to drift off momentarily…

‘Where the hell have you been, you nasty little waste of space? Put the pool cue down and get your arse home – NOW. What have I told you about hanging around with that little scrote?’

‘Don’t call her that, Mr Hamilton. I don’t care who you are. Liv’s done nothing wrong.’

‘Who asked you? I suggest you disappear – fast.’

‘Dylan, please go. You’re just making things worse.’

‘No way, Liv. He’s out of order. He’s dangerous. I’m not letting this happen again.’

‘Dylan, please! You’re just making this worse for me.’

‘Be a good idea to listen to the girl. Or Broken Arms won’t just be the name of the pub.’

‘Liv? Are you going to break? Won’t be a quick game if we have to wait all night for you to come up with a game plan.’

‘Oh. Josh. Sorry.’ I drag myself back to the present. ‘I… err… must be more tired than I thought.’

Feeling thrown by the unwelcome memory that has just surfaced – one I had buried deep within my consciousness a long time ago – I completely miss the white ball on my first attempt, and end up half-sprawled across the pool table. My second is not much better, as the white ball rattles off the side cushions without so much as grazing the red and yellow triangle of balls at the other end.

‘Two shots to you.’ I hand him the cue and slump away from the table, cheeks burning, trying to think of an excuse to cut the game short.

‘Wow, Liv,’ Josh teases me affectionately, completely oblivious to the raw turmoil in my mind. ‘From what you said, I thought either your skills would be passable, or that you had lulled me into a false sense of security. That was quite something.’

He approaches the table and proceeds to break the triangle with a bullet of a shot, sinking one of the red balls, then pots two further reds in swift succession.

‘Over to you.’ He grins, eyes twinkling as he hands the cue back to me.

His arrogance acts like some kind of spell-breaking potion. What a cocky sod. He may be hot, but much as his self-assurance is very attractive, I realise I can’t let this joker win. My energy is suddenly diverted from the scars of my childhood to a re-ignition of the hard drive and determination that helped me get out of the estate and to where I was just over three months ago.

‘All right, don’t go getting above yourself.’ I give him a warning look. ‘That was just bad luck.’

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