Page 49 of Falling for You
‘Oh God …’ I mutter, showing Stevie my phone. Before I can stop him, he grabs it out of my hand. ‘Give it back! How do you know my password?’
‘You’ve had the same password since you were eleven,’ Stevie says, turning his body around on the sofa to face me.
‘Don’t send anything back, that’s my boss.’
‘Oh wow.’ Stevie lets out a long whistle.
I groan. ‘What? What’s he sent?’
‘I think this is the shortlist. Forty women have replied.’
‘Forty!’ I nearly drop my beer.
Despite myself, my heart lifts slightly.
What if she’s there? What if it really is going to be that easy?
‘And they’ve sent their phone numbers. Right,’ he pulls his long legs up to his chest, ‘you’re going to pick one and go on a date tonight. We can do a double date, it’ll be fun.’
‘No.’
‘If you don’t pick, I’m going to pick for you.’
‘Fuck off.’
‘So, what did this girl look like?’ he says, narrowing his eyes as he scrolls freely through my phone. ‘I’ll whittle it down.’
‘Urgh. I don’t know.’ I push my thumb and forefinger against my forehead. ‘Do we have to do this?’
‘Yes. What was her ethnicity?’
‘White.’
‘Hair colour?’
‘Dark.’
‘Long or short hair?’
‘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.’
