Page 59 of The Gin Lover's Guide to Dating

‘Yeah, I was in my final year when the film came out. Class of two thousand and thirteen.’ He looks wistful. ‘Good times.’

‘You left school in two thousand and thirteen?’ Alarm bells start clanging in my already fuzzy mind. ‘Josh, how old are you?’

‘Twenty-three.’ He grins. ‘I look older though, apparently. Can never decide if that’s a good thing.’

‘You’re not joking.’ I feel the colour drain from my face, all lustful thoughts having trickled away with it, causing me to shift away from him slightly. ‘So that means you were born in… nineteen-ninety-six?’

‘Ninety-five,’ he corrects me. ‘Why, how old are you?’

‘I’m… err… thirty-one. So, eighty-seven.’

‘No way!’ Josh’s face fills with surprise. ‘I thought you were about twenty-seven.’

‘I’m always told I look younger,’ I mutter.

I suddenly feel a little bit sick – and not from the alcohol. Having finally decided that Josh is worth a shot, the opportunity has been cruelly snatched away from me. I feel like a kid who’s just had their candy stolen.

‘Hey, what’s age, anyway?’ Josh shrugs casually. ‘I figured you were older than me. Liked the idea of dating an older woman, actually.’

‘But, nearly ten years older?’ I cringe as I say the words out loud.

‘Why not? Women my age are so… image-obsessed. You’re not like that. You’re real. You’re fun. And you’re very attractive, if I’m allowed to say so.’

I laugh at the irony of it all. If Josh had met me six months ago in a different context, he might have found me just as unappealing as the women he’s described. It’s not my age that’s got him interested.

He’s scrutinising me with his smouldering eyes, still close enough that wafts of his aftershave keep teasing me, trying to draw me back in.

‘You’re allowed to say so,’ I confirm. ‘But, I think I might just be a bittooold for you, Josh.’

‘Nonsense.’ He runs a hand through his sexy sun-kissed hair, causing me to sigh involuntarily at the injustice of it all. ‘We might be from different decades, but we’re both millennials. And we like each other, right? Unless I’ve got this all wrong?’

He uses both hands to gesture from himself to me, and back again, his eyes simultaneously sending out the ‘lost-puppy-dog’ and ‘come-to-bed’ signals that only he could pull off. The way he does it, his facial expression, it’s almost explosive, triggering a new wave of lust to come crashing through my consciousness. My stomach doesn’t just flip, it launches into multiple somersaults, topped off with a demi-plié, and I realise I’m done for.

He may have been in primary school when I went to university, but just one look, one sparkling smile is all it seems to take. And the more of them I’m subjected to, the weaker I become.

‘Oh hell!’ I make a show of finally caving. ‘No, you haven’t got it wrong, you sexy bugger.’

‘I knew it!’ Josh pumps the air with his fist in a gesture of victory.

‘Although keep doing that and I might change my mind.’ I raise my eyebrows at him in warning.

I laugh as he comically hides his arm beneath the table, and before I realise what’s happening, he’s holding my hand. His touch is warm and tender. I look down in surprise and then up at his face. He smiles at me coyly and gives my hand a little squeeze, as if seeking permission. My pulse quickens as I realise he’s about to kiss me. I smile back shyly, giving him the go-ahead, and before I know it his other hand is on the back of my neck, his face moving towards mine. I close my eyes and as his lips meet mine, fireworks erupt in my already well-churned stomach. We cling to each other together hungrily in our passionate embrace, the bar and all the other punters having faded into non-existence.

After several minutes, we pull apart, slightly breathless, and look at each other almost guiltily – as if what we’ve just experienced is too good not to be wrong. Then in an instant, Josh makes it all better: he simply holds out his arm, and I instinctively slot in underneath as he pulls me into a reassuring embrace.

As I snuggle into him, my mind whirls with a million conflicting thoughts. He’s amazing, and gorgeous, and sexy. But so young. How can this end well? I already like him so much. At least, I think I do.

Still lucid enough to realise the alcohol may be playing a part in all this, I decide I’ll assess the situation again tomorrow. And I’ll also sort Reyes out for getting me in this mess in the first place. But, in the meantime, one night of fun isn’t going to do any harm – surely.

Chapter 17

‘You are in so much trouble, lady!’

I march across to the bar, where Reyes is arranging fresh flowers in the two huge ceramic vases that sit either end of the bar.

‘Chica!’ Reyes looks up in delight. ‘You are here, finally. Tell me everything!’

‘Uh-uh.’ I shake my head deliberately. ‘You’re not getting away with this. You put me in an impossible situation last night. What were you thinking?’

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