Page 50 of Falling for You
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.’
‘So, you can be honest with me. How much are you hoping that tonight is this Bat Girl that you keep talking about?’
‘I do not keep talking about her,’ I mutter into my pint.
‘You do in your sleep.’
‘Shut up.’
‘Our walls are thin.’
‘You’re telling me!’ I guffaw and Stevie gives me a wicked grin.
I take a swig of beer. ‘It isn’t her. I’d recognise her from the pictures.’
Stevie huffs at me. ‘Wasn’t she wearing a mask?’
‘Yes, but …’
‘Anyway,’ he waves his hand at me, ‘so what if it isn’t her? Jane might be really nice.’
