Page 169 of Falling for You
‘Long.’
‘Right …’ He swigs his beer. ‘That narrows it down. You have fifteen women to pick from. How old do you think she was? Was she older than sixty?’
‘No!’
‘Okay … that takes out you, and you …’
‘I need another beer.’ I go to get up when the TV erupts and the screen is filled with Marcus Rashford, his arms in the air towards the crowd and his teammates leaping on his back, jostling him with animalistic joy.
‘I told you he was good,’ Stevie says knowingly. I give him a shove as I take his empty beer and walk towards the fridge.
‘Do you want to pick her or shall I?’ Stevie calls after me. ‘Ohh … she looks nice. I think she’s my favourite.’
‘Well, let me look,’ I say, kicking the fridge door shut and grabbing the bottle opener. ‘She may actually be there.’
‘You are into this!’ Stevie says triumphantly. ‘God, you’re such a romantic it’s sickening.’
I hand him a beer as he turns the phone to me. ‘Contestant number one, Jane.’
I study the picture. It’s a woman who looks roughly the same age as me with curly hair and lots of eyeliner.
‘That’s not her,’ I say. ‘She didn’t have curly hair.’
‘She could have straightened it.’
I roll my eyes. ‘Fine.’
‘Contestant number two, Hayley.’
He turns the phone towards me again and I swat it away. ‘Stevie, I don’t want to sit through each girl. She’s not going to be there, and even if she is I won’t recognise her. She was wearing a mask and it was dark …’
‘Okay, okay,’ Stevie says in a horrible, superior voice. ‘Calm down. You don’t have to do it.’
I feel a wave of relief as I sink into the back of the sofa.
‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll choose for you.’
‘Stevie!’
‘Jane is free tonight, I’ll ask her to meet us at Simmons at nine and see if Jason is free. This is going to be fun.’
I slug my beer.
I instinctively feel it won’t be.
Two hours later and I’m sat in a bar opposite Stevie, who has almost finished his second Heineken and we only arrived twenty minutes ago. Simmons is small and dark, with high tables and loud bartenders, shaking cocktails over their shoulders and slamming shots down on the sticky bar. The room is cast in blue light, and the walls are covered in different posters.
‘Is this what life is normally like for you in London, then?’I ask. Stevie looks up from his phone. He’s been watching the Formula One highlights since we arrived.
‘What do you mean?’
I pick up my beer and gesture to our surroundings. ‘How many dates have you brought here?’
He puts his phone down, raising his eyebrows. ‘Are you judging me?’
I laugh. ‘No! If anything, I’m jealous.’
