Girls Night Out 3 E-Book Bundle. Gemma Burgess
to me, I suddenly realise, he’ll come over. Then my attention is taken by Plum telling me all about Dan, the cute guy she was talking to at the party earlier.
‘He’s from Yorkshire! Can you believe it? And he asked for my number, so I gave it to him,’ finishes Plum proudly, and then pauses. ‘Not like that.’
‘Good for you,’ I say. ‘Bulletproof!’
‘I know!’ says Plum. ‘We haven’t spoken in over an hour, though. Maybe I should go and find him and talk to him some more,’ she adds worriedly. ‘What if he finds someone he likes more than me?’
She never used to be like this. Where did this insecurity come from? Years of disappointing singledom, comes the answer right back. ‘Don’t stalk him. Do a lap of the club, and if you see him, grin or raise an eyebrow, but don’t stop. Go straight to the bar. I bet Dan follows you and starts talking to you.’
‘Who made you the queen of pulling?’ says Plum.
I do sound extremely sure of myself. And I feel it, too. How strange. I shrug. ‘What have you got to lose?’
‘Absolutely nothing,’ says Plum cheerfully. ‘Back in five.’ Hmm.
I think I’ve just learned how to be single.
I look around the bar, make eye contact with Rich, raise an eyebrow, and then turn back to my drink. I bet you five pounds he comes over within 10 seconds.
‘I hope you came back to the party just to see me,’ says a voice five seconds later. I look up at Rich, stifling a victorious grin. Ha! ‘But I wouldn’t be so egotistical as to assume so.’
‘Humble, yes, that’s how I’d describe you,’ I nod. ‘So are you learning Cantonese for Hong Kong?’
‘Come on, everyone knows other languages don’t actually exist,’ he says conspiratorially. ‘We go travelling and hear them speaking Italian and Japanese and so on, but the minute we turn our backs they’re all talking in good old English. It’s all pretend!’
I smile at him. He’s very cute.
‘I like your hair,’ I say thoughtfully. ‘You look like Henry will when he’s a big boy.’
Rich smiles at me and leans forward, and for a second I think he’s going to kiss me, when out of the corner of my eye I see Plum returning from her lap around the club, and quickly turn my head to watch her. To the outside observer, she’s another leggy, nonchalant girl wandering to the bar. But I can tell that she’s melting inside, thinking Dan hasn’t followed her. Fuck it, I think, sighing. I want to fix things for her.
‘Plum!’ shouts a voice, and Plum and I both turn and see Dan striding over towards her. ‘There you are. Can I buy you a drink?’
Yes! I want to punch the air. I am the singledom coach! I am the love sage! Move over, Robert!
‘Love Is A Battlefield’ comes on, and I look up at Rich and grin. ‘If you’ll excuse me . . . I need to watch your brother dance to this song,’ I say.
Henry likes Pat Benetar. No, Henry loves Pat Benetar. And he has a handful of dance moves (the Shopping Trolley, the Sprinkler, the Reverse Park, the Tennis Serve, the Ear Cleaner and the Cake Mix) that I love. He and I also have a special dance move called The Fisherman, where he pretends to have a fishing rod and I pretend to be a fish and have to get hooked from across the dance floor; and the Skipping Rope, where another person and I mime holding two skipping ropes as he pretends to skip over them faster and faster. He is always the skipper, and never lets me skip.
I’m having such a good time. A drunk guy approaches in that flirty/sleazy way that guys do when they think they’re Al Pacino in Scent Of A Woman, so I hit Henry in the arm and he starts twirling me. The pretend boyfriend: every single girl’s must-have. The two of us acting like dickheads isn’t going to help Henry’s case with the opposite sex either, but he seems to be having a good time.
Eventually the DJ starts playing Europop, so leaving Henry doing the Running Man, I head to the bar to look for Plum.
‘So, as I was saying earlier, we should go out,’ says Rich, sidling up next to me immediately. ‘Don’t make me ask again.’
‘You’re leaving for Hong Kong!’ I say, stalling for time. Do I really want to go out with Henry’s brother? And I don’t think I should make a date on the same night that Adam The Tick Boxer rejected me and almost made me cry, do you? Though between me and you, I don’t feel upset about him anymore . . .
‘Not for a few more days,’ Rich says.
I pause. ‘OK, I’d love to.’ Batter up.
‘Great,’ he says. ‘Give me your number.’
As I give him my number, I look up and see posh Toby from the courtyard. He’s looking over at us – me, sipping my drink; Rich tapping my number into his phone – and grins knowingly. I narrow my eyes and scowl at him. He pretends to be hurt.
Flirting without words. Wow, I can’t wait to tell Robert about this.
Henry comes up. ‘Where the bloody hell are all the girls?’
‘Everywhere, Henry,’ I reply. ‘Everywhere. Remember what Robert said? Right, I’m going to the bar, boys.’
When I get back with our drinks, Henry is still talking about not being able to meet girls.
‘Abigay’s flatmate Robert – total legend, by the way – gave me a few tips. But I just don’t know if I can be that guy.’
‘You can be that guy,’ says Rich solemnly. ‘I believe in you.’
‘You’re a very handsome man,’ I say, feeling like Henry’s mother. ‘Just channel confidence.’
‘There are two girls over there,’ says Rich. ‘Go on—’
‘What if they tell me to fuck off? I—’ Henry pauses.
‘If they do, then just assume they’re talking about something traumatic,’ I say. ‘Girls sometimes have private conversations. It’s not personal.’
‘OK,’ he says. He takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and walks over. I look over at Rich again and we both start laughing.
‘Ah, the pull,’ he says, grinning. ‘You seem awfully knowledgeable for someone so newly single, by the way.’
‘Shit! Plum!’ I say. ‘I have to do a recon. Back in a mo.’
She’s not on the dance floor, the other seating area, or the smoking courtyard, so I make a bathroom pit stop. As I wash my hands and make awkward chitchat to the bored woman they don’t pay to stand in the tiny bathroom and hand out free paper towels, Plum bursts in happily.
‘I’ve been looking for you!’ She pretends to faint against the wall. ‘He is so fucking dreamy.’
The toilet attendant woman tsks, and taps a door, indicating Plum should go in and stop wasting her time. She looks over at her perfectly arranged perfumes and hairsprays, and sighs with boredom.
‘Sorry,’ we chorus. She nods without making eye contact. Why is it people who work for nightclubs act like your existence annoys them?
‘Wait for me, sugarnuts, I’m bursting,’ says Plum.
I look over the array of seriously minging perfumes on offer. Who wears Paris Hilton’s Heiress? And why offer Chupa Chups? What are we, five years old?
A heavily fake-tanned girl with serious hair extensions and spray-on jeans comes out of a stall, washes her hands, glosses her lips, tips the attendant and takes a Chupa Chup. She unwraps it and carefully places it between her glossed lips, then twirls it with careful practice.
Ah. I understand now. Sucking a Chupa Chup equals pouty, fellatio-y lips. Some girls must be pre-programmed to ooze that kind of sexiness. I don’t think I’m one of