Page 114 of Only Fangs

“Ivan was saying it the other night. I like it. Anyway,” I continue, “we always knew that some people would sign up just to have an explore of the site, dip their toes in the water as it were. And they’ve all paid upfront.”

“True. I just don’t want people to be disappointed.”

“They won’t be. We’ve done all the marketing to make sure we’ve reached out to a broad cross-section of people, more than enough so that plenty of serious daters have signed up. The lookie-loos won’t care if they don’t match with someone, that isn’t what they’re after anyway.”

“Are you just being overly positive?” she asks.

“No. I genuinely think this is working.” Of course it’s not strictly true. I have no real idea if Only Fangs will actually take off. All I know is that we’ve done everything we can to make it a success and everything else is now out of our control. So I may as well put on a brave face and keep my fingers crossed. Behind my back though, I don’t want Ari to see and suspect my cheerful facade is just that.

Matt and Ivan have been in charge of organising a launch party for us and to say I’m apprehensive of what this evening will entail is an understatement.

“Are you sure they haven’t told you anything?” Ari asks me as we start getting ready at 6 p.m.

“Absolutely nothing at all.” That in itself is concerning. Matt is terrible at keeping things secret and the fact that he’s been able to keep it under wraps makes me wonder if he’s forgotten.

“Hmmm. Do you think this is too dressy?” She holds up a sheath of black silk. “It’s vintage Stella McCartney.”

“I think you will be the most beautiful woman in the room.”

She rolls her eyes. “You always say that, even if I’m wearing joggers.”

“And I always mean it.”

I leave her to get dressed and go to check the numbers once more. Only Fangs is now at almost six thousand users. Holy shit, this could actually work. I rush back into the bedroom to tell Ari. She has one foot raised to adjust the straps on a pair of stiletto shoes and the black silk dress clings to her curves like a second skin. Holy shit.

“Do I look OK?” she asks standing up and smoothing the dress over her hips.

I don’t answer her. Instead I go to her and take her in my arms, my lips kissing her neck.

“You’ll crease it,” she says and gently pushes me away. “But later…” She parts her lips and runs her tongue across her teeth.

So it turns out that Matt and Ivan have a real talent for planning launch parties and have hired the Castle Brasserie for the evening.

“This is where Ari and I had our first date,” I tell Matt as we arrive and he meets us outside the front of the restaurant.

“It wasn’t a real date,” Ari corrects me.

“A technicality,” I shoot back.

I notice Matt is wearing a name tag that has a combination of random letters on it. “V/Q/T?” I ask.

“My idea,” Ivan interjects. “V is for vampire. Q is for queer. T is for taken.” He grins at Matt and he returns the smile. They’re adorable.

Matt hands me my own name tag with H/S/T on it. We’re ushered us inside and met with a wall of applause. The place is rammed with a combination of humans and vampires, all of whom are sporting the same little name tags. Someone thrusts a glass of champagne in my hand and I down it gratefully.

The evening is delightfully chaotic, the perfect way for me and Ari to unwind after all the hours we’ve been working recently. A number is being projected onto one of the walls, ticking up every few seconds. “I linked it to the app data,” Matt tells me. “So we can see all the new members joining in real time.”

I give him a thumbs up, but it takes all my restraint not to spend the entire evening staring at it. Everything rides on that number. Literally everything.

But my attention is snagged by a rather uncomfortable looking man in the corner. “Is that Danely?” I ask Matt. “From my old office?”

“Yeah. Apparently he got dumped a few weeks ago and Sharon felt sorry for him so invited him as her plus one.”

“They’re not,” I make a weird motion with my hand. I really hope that Sharon and Danely aren’t a couple. I think it would ruin the entire evening if I’m honest.

“Not if that’s anything to go by,” Ari says, leaning in close so I can hear her above the crowd. She’s pointing at one of the booths where a very happy looking Sharon is chatting to a few other guests as she sits on someone’s lap. The arm around her waist is encased in slightly battered tweed. And is that a pair of brogues I can see under the table?

“Is he?” I ask.