Page 71 of In For a Penny
I pretend to zip my lips, pressing them together to avoid laughing. He’s being a pal, so I should minimize the teasing—he really doesn’t deserve it. I think I’m going to be nice tonight and be his wing-woman.
“Fucking hell, Ollie. Is this the girl you told us you’ve been shagging?”
On the other hand, maybe he can go fuck himself.
“Uh…hey, guys. This is myfriend, Penny.” I had made sure he emphasized the friend part. I don’t want any of his teammates thinking that just because we came together, we are expected to leave together. “She’s my friend from New York I was telling you about.” By the looks on their faces, that’s not all Oliver has told them about me.
Where are all the women?
I suddenly feel like a gazelle being brought into a lion’s den for dinner time. Perhaps this was not such a great idea.
“Evidently,” says the gray-eyed man with brown hair as he looks me over, up and down. He’s about six-foot-three and built like a quarterback. I look around at the rest of the table, and they’re all pretty much the same body type.
Jesus Christ, what are they feeding these guys? Do they all look like this?
I make a mental note to start watching rugby tomorrow.
“Hi,” I say with a pathetic wave to the group of men.
“I’m Jonathan. Nice to meet you.” He smiles wickedly at me. “I’m Ollie’s biggest competitor.”
Oh no.
I take in his expression and look around the table at the other guys. He’s told them. He hasn’t just told them we’ve slept together; it looks like he gave details. And they all know.
I want to kick Oliver’s ass.
“Excuse me,” I say to the group of men at the table, smiling my most saccharine smile. I grab Oliver by the arm and take him a few feet away. “What the fuck did you do? They’re all undressing me with their eyes!” I whisper-yell.
Oliver winces. “You told me to talk you up! Which I did! Although in retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have mentioned a few things about you,” he says, grimacing, waiting for me to physically hurt him. I groan, mortified, and then punch him in the arm.
“How much did you tell them?!Whatdid you say?” I ask, venom in my voice.
“I may have…touched upon your sexual prowess and…appetite.”
Oh. My. God.
“Please don’t kill me! I was just trying to help. I didn’t think they’d all react this way. I just wanted Tom to be intrigued, to pique his interest,” he says, words tumbling out quickly.
I’m seething with anger. That’s not an excuse.
“You couldn’t have at least texted it privately to him? You had to put it in the group chat?” I ask, but I know it was the group-chat version of locker-room talk. And I had given him permission. It just went too far.
He shakes his head. “It wouldn’t have been natural. I never talk to Tom. He’s sofuckingboring.” Oliver scoffs, disgusted. “Honestly, you’re not in for the best night, I don’t think. I think you should consider going with someone else. Richard might have a small dick, but he comes from money, and his flat is incredible.”
I stare at him for a second, mouth gaping. I cannot believe him. I cannot believe he did this. This is definitely not helpful. I need someone to pick me for my personality, not based on my sexual Yelp review written in a group text by a moron or because of a competition with another guy.
This is an absolute nightmare.
“I’m just going to go. This is humiliating. I don’t know anyone, and I already see you dumping me here alone for some other girl.” I nod toward the brunette at the bar who hasn’t stopped eye-fucking Oliver since we walked through the door.
I exhale. “Mission failed.”
He grabs me by the shoulders and bends to make eye contact with me. “Listen, you’ve absolutely got this. You’re hot. You’re smart. You’re completely insecure, but I believe you have the ability to hide that sometimes. And there will be lots of beer to loosen everyone up and hide people’s personality flaws for the night.” He shakes me a little. “You can do this. Now, let me properly introduce you to everyone—especially Tom, I guess.”
I’m only on my secondbeer, so I shouldn’t feel this drunk, but I do. I’m dizzy, and the pub is blurring a little, making it difficult to stay balanced. Tom is telling me something about his job. He’s a photographer, I think? It’s hard to focus for some reason, which makes me feel bad. Tom is so nice. He’s been so sweet and nice and patient, and he even watched my beer and purse for me when I went to the bathroom earlier.
Oliver was right. Tom doesn’t have much of a personality, but that’s fine. I tried finding him to thank him for introducing me to a nice guy, but I had the feeling he had disappeared with the brunette from the bar about a half hour ago. Shame. I was hoping he could take me home.
