I rub a hand over my face.Brilliant work, Harris. Absolutely textbook.
I clearly need advice.
Which means calling Dan, the one person guaranteed to mock me first and help second.
He’s been my best mate since we were five. He’s the lad who once shoved a bully into a puddle for mocking my gap teeth, the only person who knows every bad decision I’ve ever made and still answers the phone.
I hit his name.
He answers on the third ring.
“Harris,” he says, voice warm, amused. “You only ring after three pints or a cock-up. Judging by the timing… cock-up?”
I groan. “How do you always know?”
“I have a gift. And a long history of rescuing you from your own stupidity. Go on then. What’s the damage?”
I flop deeper into the sofa. “A woman.”
“Aha!” He sits forward; I can hear the grin in his voice. “At last. Tell Uncle Dan everything.”
I tell him the lot: the pub, the conversation, the hair tuck I should maybe not have done, and Emma’s sudden sprint towards freedom.
He whistles. “Right. And you’re sure you didn’t loom? You have a tendency to loom when you like someone.”
“I did not loom.”
“Good. Looming is for villains.”
I sigh. “She panicked. Proper panicked. And I don’t know why.”
“Fine, fine. She sounds shy. Like, proper shy. So go slow. Steady. Friendly. No pressure. No big gestures.”
“That’s basically what her friend said.”
“Her friend sounds wise.”
“She calls Phil ‘Bambi.’”
Dan bursts out laughing. “Oh that’s outstanding. Poor bloke.”
I rub my forehead. “He hated it.”
“I would too,” Dan says cheerfully. “But still funny.”
“Can we focus?” I ask, though I’m smiling despite myself.
“Right, right. Back to Emma then.”
He goes quiet for a second, then says, “Look… I don’t know her, obviously. But from how you’re telling it, it doesn’t sound like she legged it because she was angry. Maybe she was just overwhelmed. It happens.”
I lean my head back on the sofa. “She did look startled.”
“Exactly. And that’s different from ‘get lost’. You’re used to women who jump straight in. This one might just… need slower steps. Could be wrong. I usually am.”
I huff a laugh. “That’s more like it.”
“Point is,” he goes on, “you didn’t say anything awful. You didn’t insult her. You didn’t spill a pint on her jeans. She just panicked. So go steady. Ease in. Let her get used to you.”
