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“Courtney I never thought I’d say this, but I think you and I are finally on the same page. Can I finish now what I’ve been trying to say since I got here?”
“No one’s stopping you,” Courtney quips at me dryly.
“So, anyway, as I was sitting on the train tonight after my date with Stanton the Wanker, wedged between a giant and a woman with a questionable sense of hygiene, I got one final text from him.”
“We’re fascinated.”
I turned my phone around so everyone could see his text. “He sent me a photo of his dick.”
“Looks like a naked mole rat!”
“As smooth as a Ken doll!”
“Why do they always send dick pics?”
Nate grabs my phone and walks off with it, a massive grin on his face. He’s definitely up to something. I take another sip and turn my attention back to Courtney and Brynn. “I really appreciate your honesty, and I think I know what I need to do.”
“Tell us.”
“I’m not going to do it anymore.”
“It?”
“Date. Guys. Men.”
“Interesting.” Brynn pauses then grins at me. “Camilla might just have a chance.”
“Stop it!”
“So, no dates?”
No dates.” I shake my head. “I’ve got everything I need right here.”
“You’re a dafty.”
“I’ve got a great apartment. Pretty good friends… most of the time,” I give Courtney a stinky side-eye and laugh. “I’ve got a job that I love and I’m chasing a promotion. I don’t need a guy to complete me.”
“What about your blog?”
“My blog will still be there. There are a lot of things that a single girl can be doing in London other than going on rubbish dates. I might try meditation… or take one of those adult classes at the community college.”
“You could be sponsored by a dildo manufacturer and write blogs about all the different sex toys,” she says airily.
“Sod off, Courtney.” I kick her under the table. “Plus, it’s about time I work on my novel as well.”
Both Courtney and Brynn moan loudly at me.
I’ve been threatening to condense my blog posts into a novel since I began. I bang on about it constantly, but I just don’t actually write it, mostly because I’m too busy going on shockingly bad dates… but now that I’m putting a stop to that, I’ll have no excuse.
“Maybe it’ll be a self-help book for ladies in a similar rut as me, might help me with a bit of my baggage.”
“Sure, Meg.”
“Don’t scoff, you’ll see.”
“Tell me, can we still play cupid, though?”
“Nope. The Duke from Bridgerton could turn up and I still wouldn’t be interested.”
