Page 32 of The Gin Lover's Guide to Dating

‘We’ll see.’ Josh drapes himself across the armchair confidently.

I step forward to the table, size up my best option, then lean down and take aim. It’s looking good, but as the pool cue moves through my fingers and makes contact with the white ball, I feel a slight shift to the left and I know I’ve fluffed the shot. The yellow ball simply ricochets off the cushions to the side of the pocket, and comes to a standstill two-thirds of the way down the table.

‘Nearly.’ Josh gets up smugly. ‘At least you hit something this time.’

I’m now fizzing inside: with frustration at myself; and with unwavering determination. I have to win this. Not just to wipe the smarmy look off Josh’s face. But also, to retaliate against the sickening memories that have just dared to infiltrate my conscious mind; to face up to all the crap that I’ve dealt with over the last few months – and tell it exactly where to go. Suddenly it’s not just a friendly game of pool, but a test of whether I still have the fight left in me. I watch, in frustration, as he pots a further two red balls with effortless ease, and self-righteously hands the cue back to me.

Eyeing the balls and angles on the table, I carefully plot my next moves. Taking great care, I line up my first shot, and follow through, the cue this time moving fluently through my fingers. A first yellow ball drops noisily into the pocket and I feel a surge of confidence. I follow up by sinking a further three balls, before I finally miss a shot.

Looking up from the table I see that the smug smile has disintegrated from Josh’s face. The easy banter between us has fallen away. Saying nothing, Josh takes his next shot and comes up empty-handed. The tension mounts as our natural competitiveness locks horns; both trying desperately to seal the win. Eventually, we’re both down to the black ball, and after several failed attempts on both our parts, I triumph – and score the win. I walk round the table to a dejected Josh and offer him a conciliatory handshake.

‘Good game.’ I’m trying hard not to behave in the way that he did previously, but it’s almost impossible not to let some pride leak through; particularly given the high stakes I had set for myself.

‘You got me.’ He holds his hands up in defeat, but he’s now smiling graciously. ‘It was just as I thought. You lulled me into a false sense of security.’

‘Not completely,’ I admit. ‘That false start was real. I haven’t played for years. But seems the rustiness wore off pretty quickly.’

‘I’ll say. Where did you learn to play like that?’

‘Spent a lot of time in the pub as a kid. Not drinking obviously. Just a community thing.’

‘Right. Well, you do realise, that Iwillkick your arse next time.’ Josh’s wounded pride is already on the mend. ‘Just didn’t know what I was dealing with. Best of three?’

‘Sure.’ I give him a wink. ‘If you want to subject yourself to that.’

Josh laughs and holds my gaze. ‘I like you, Liv. I’m glad you’ve come to work here. I hope we can spend a bit more time together.’

To my horror, I start to feel myself blush. ‘Err… well, yeah, I guess there will be plenty more work breaks to be passed at the pool table.’

‘I was thinking more like going for a drink – just you and me?’ He raises an eyebrow suggestively.

Now heisasking me out. For a moment I imagine what it would be like to kiss him and feel his muscular arms around me, before snapping myself back to reality. As hot as he is, I must stand by my rule. The last thing I need right now is another distraction preventing me from getting my life back on track.

‘I… umm… I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’ I chew on my lip awkwardly. ‘Us being colleagues and all. Plus, I need to focus on other things in my life right now.’

‘OK… no problem.’ He holds his hands up in defeat once more. ‘But I’ll be right here when you change your mind.’

He saunters out the door of the canteen, leaving me wondering: how it was me who won the game and knocked back his advances, yet somehow it feels like he got the upper hand? Shaking my head in amazement, I’m just putting the pool cue back, when Clara comes sweeping into the canteen.

‘Liv!’ she barks across the room.

A few people eating their meals look up in surprise.

‘Oh, hi, Clara.’ Having assumed this is just another of her strange behaviours, I miss the menace in her approach.

‘Liv Hamilton.’ She walks right up to me, her severe features creating an almost evil look. ‘You may have been hired by the top brass in this place, but you answer to me.’

‘Err… OK… sure.’ I’m perplexed by the ominous tone in her voice.

‘You get forty minutes for your meal break and not a minute more. I only briefed you on that a few hours ago and already you’ve taken advantage. This is your first strike – and it’s only day one.’

‘What? Clara, I’m sorry, I just… I must have lost track of time.’

I glance at my watch and see that I’m two minutes over my break time. She was obviously lying in wait, hoping I would break the rules. Obviously I need to be more careful. Another three minutes and I’d have been back at the bar. It’s hardly even relevant.

‘You can make the time up tomorrow by coming in early.’ She eyes me with disdain.

‘Youarekidding.’ I’m so shocked, it just slips out.

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