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‘Somewhere to be?’ Cute Guy asks me.
Is he still here?
‘Are you still here?’
He looks down at himself like he needs to confirm it. ‘Apparently.’
‘Well, I won’t be for much longer. I need carbs.’ I blink at him, stare at the curls of his hair and his thick eyelashes. ‘Do you want to come with me?’
Wait. What? Did I really just invite this total stranger to leave with me? I know I had a couple of drinks, but I’m definitely notthatfar gone. His good looks must be way more mesmerizing than I realized.
‘For carbs?’ he asks, and then grins. ‘Sure. I know a place.’
I press my cloakroom ticket into his hand. ‘Meet me outside. I’ll just be a sec.’
Leaving him, and possibly also abandoning the promise of ever collecting my coat, I wriggle my way back onto the dance floor, shimmying over to the others. I manage to grab hold of Elaine, seeing her first, both my hands wrapping around her arm as she turns to look at me, her eyes clear and sober.
‘I’m heading off.’
‘Are you okay? Some of us might head home soon, if you wanted to wait and share a cab.’
‘Aw, leave her be!’ crows one of the guys – Dylan, I remember, with a double-barrelled surname. There are huge sweat patches on his salmon-pink shirt, but I don’t shove him off when he throws an arm around my shoulder and gives me a friendly shake. ‘She met a guy! I saw her talking to someone at the bar. D’you need a condom? I have condoms.’
He reaches for his wallet even as I laugh at the idea of me picking up a guy in a bar; it’s not something I’ve ever done. I don’t get a chance to correct him because Elaine shoves Dylan’s hands back to his sides.
‘Ohmigod, she doesn’t need your weird wallet condoms. Text us when you get home safe, Anna?’
‘Will do. Have fun, everyone!’ I yell to the group.
Some of them wave me off. Dylan jokes, ‘Not as much fun as you!’ and Elaine says, ‘Ohmigod,’ again and pulls him back into the fray, leaving me to my night with a cute mystery guy.
I don’t know why I’m surprised to see Cute Guy actually waiting outside for me.
But there he is in his pale blue shirt and dark jeans, both hands tucked into his pockets and my denim jacket tucked neatly through the crook of his elbow.
My stomach lurches and, once again, it’s a reaction that has everything to do with him and nothing to do with the alcohol I’ve been drinking. Whatever possessed me a few minutes ago at the bar, it’s long gone now. The music is so loud I can feel the beat of it out here on the street. The air is cool against my hot, sweaty skin and suddenly all I can focus on is the gross, wet sleeve of my blouse and the way it’s plastered to my arm.
‘Listen,’ I tell Cute Guy, before he’s even noticed I’m outside. He starts, looking around. My mouth is dry; I peel my tongue away from the roof of my mouth andtry again. ‘Listen, I don’t … I don’tdothis kind of thing. And, like, I wasn’t trying to, you know. Invite you home. Hook up with you, I mean.’
He scoffs, and just when I brace myself for a slew of derogatory cuss words and him storming back inside, he says, ‘Well, that’s good, because I was really looking forward to some cheesy chips. No offence. I’m sure that would’ve been fun, but …’
Now it’s my turn to make a scornful noise. I snatch my coat from him and fold it over my arm, covering my stomach. ‘And the charm just continues. Ireallyhope this isn’t how you try to flirt.’
‘I mean, normally I start by introducing myself, and complimenting the girl.’
I wait.
Cute Guy laughs, almost in disbelief, but squares his shoulders and shrugs, his hands open at his sides, palms facing me. His eyes crinkle a little at the corners. They’re such a nice green. Like the first leaves in springtime.
‘I’m Lloyd.’
‘Lloyd.’ I don’t know why I repeat it, but I like the way it rolls off my tongue. That’s like honey, too. ‘I’m Annalise. I like that your shirt isn’t wet. That’s an impressive feat.’
‘Is thatyourattempt of flirting with me, Annalise?’he teases, then puts his hands back in his pockets and jerks his head to one side. ‘Come on. Like I said, I know a place. And there’s a portion of cheesy chips with my name on it.’
Lloyd begins walking down the street in slow, steady strides, even as his body tilts to one side ever so slightly. I hurry after him, stumbling a little. My right hand slips around his left arm as I steady myself, his skin warm through his shirt. I hang on for a few steps, and he gives me a sidelong look.
‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ I tell him, wondering if he can see me blush in the dark, or if it’ll just look like a trick of the light under the street lamps. This whole situation is so unlikemethat I blurt out exactly what’s on my mind. ‘I’m not usually much of a drinker. But I am sobering up enough now to realize that walking off with some guy I don’t know is not my finest moment.’
