‘Cli’m Leo,’ I say. Nope, try again, Cleo. ‘Sorry – I’m…’
My voice trails off. What is wrong with me? Maybe I’m just tired.
Lockie laughs.
‘For a moment I thought that was a request,’ he replies cheekily. ‘I’m a Leo. You are?’
‘A sceptic,’ I tell him. ‘Whatever I am, it reckons I’m an optimist, and enthusiastic, and… nah.’
‘I meant your name,’ he says through a big grin.
‘Right, yeah, sorry, of course you did,’ I reply, finally getting a grip. ‘I’m Cleo.’
I notice his eyebrows raise slightly.
‘Nice to meet you, Cleo,’ he replies.
‘So, what do you do, Lockie?’ I ask.
‘Really?’ he replies with a chuckle. ‘We’re doing this? Okay, tell you what, why don’t you guess what I do?’
The urge to be a little cheeky is too hard to resist.
‘You look like you lift things,’ I say.
‘Only the mood,’ he replies.
‘Carry things, then… a waiter?’
‘I’ve been told I serve before, but not like that,’ he says.
‘Astronaut,’ I reply, going for something completely different.
‘Well, now you’re just making fun of me,’ he claps back. ‘I think I’ll keep you guessing.’
‘Fair enough, then I’ll do the same,’ I reply.
‘So, what brings you here, Cleo?’ he asks.
‘The same reason you’re here,’ I reply.
‘Any bites?’ he asks.
‘None yet, but the night is young,’ I tell him, my flirtatious tone still very much there.
I don’t actually have to flirt with the men I meet. Interesting that I’m choosing to.
The bell rings, signalling the end of our seven minutes, and I’m almost angry about it.
‘Tell me something about you that would surprise me,’ I suggest.
‘I have two degrees,’ he begins.
‘Really?’ I squeak.
He laughs.
‘Really – why, are the people you usually meet at these things dummies?’
