It’s time to bag myself date number three.
A sudden surge of confidence (delirium?) has me sliding off my bar stool and saying, ‘Alessandro? If I did find some time off, I don’t suppose you’d want to spend it with me? I could bring my camera and you could maybe show me around? Like. . . a date?’
WOOSH. There goes the confidence. Now I’m like, WHAT ARE YOU SAYING JASMINE? I am unable to believe that those words just came out of my mouth. I can’t even look at the Italian prince I just asked out. Of course he isn’t going to say yes!!! And what the bloody hell just came over me?
A smile plays at his lips as he watches me. ‘Well, the last thing I want is for your poor map-reading skills to get you lost in my country. Just tell me the time and place.’
NUH UH MOTHER FUCKER, NO YOU DIDN’T?
I’m not sure we need ALL the expletives right now,I message back primly.
Mate, you’re telling me you just bagged yourself a date with Italian royalty?? I’m so proud of YOOOUUUUUUU!
Mila is tapping away like the clappers and I’m struggling to keep up with her quickfire questions, but it feels very good to know that she’s pleased with me. I’m prettypleased with myself, tbh. I’m being such an obedient best friend at the moment. Get out of your comfort zone! Ask out a guy who isn’t normally your type! I’m checking off things on Mila’s anti-list like there’s no tomorrow. There’s just the tiniest glitch to deal with. I’m about to go on date number three with a member of the Italian aristocracy who just happens to look like a Dolce and Gabbana model. My hair hasn’t seen a hairdryer in years because it’s just easier to let it air dry, I do not own one solitary set of matching underwear and don’t even get me started on the aftermath ofthatrecent bikini wax. Also, I’m kind of socially awkward at the best of times, let alone when gadding around Italy with a king, or whatever. What was I thinking?! Andwhatimpelled Alessandro to say yes?!
Violet wasn’t too thrilled when I asked to take the morning off. I pointed out that she’s filming so I’m not needed in a professional capacity, even though she does like to dispatch me to fetch a fresh iced water every ten minutes while she’s on set. Thankfully the role of Dogsbody isn’t actually written in to my contract so here I am, feeling all kinds of uncomfortable because I’m wearing A Dress. I bumped into Karen at breakfast this morning and told her, on the quiet, that I was spending the morning with Alessandro. She looked me up and down and asked me if I was honestly and truly about to go on a date wearing jeans with a smear of Nutella on the butt (forgot about my breakfast stash when I sat down, didn’t I?) Horrified, she dragged me up to her room, heaved a suitcase out from under her bed and unzipped it to reveal loads of amazing clothes.
‘Fashion brands send me stuff,’ Karen explained. ‘If one of my celebrity clients wears something of theirs onscreen, it will be a guaranteed bestseller.’ Then she pulled out a green tea dress and flung it at me. Oh how I laughed. But apparently Karen was being serious and now look at me, fidgeting awkwardly with the mid-length sleeves and trying not to shout in fright every time I spot my pasty knees.
