Problem was, nothing had come up. The few opportunities I’d heard about were freelance gigs that sounded amazing but were temporary and had no promise of further work afterwards. That’s why my pitch for this book adaptation was so important – it could potentially make my mark on the industry, and I’d have the career I longed for. I was confident that if Lin bothered to crack open my presentation, she’d see the potential too.
Chapter Two
Bex looked up at me from her downward dog position and grinned. “Dirty stop-out.”
I threw my handbag on the kitchen table and glared. “If only.”
“It’s nearly midday!” Bex declared. “Tinder guy must have been sensational.”
I couldn’t hold back the satisfied smirk. Last night hadn’t been a total waste of time at least. “Sensational-ish.”
Bex cackled. “Go on.”
I kicked my heels off. “Did you know there was a difference between Rugby League and Rugby Union?”
Bex straightened, cricking her back. “One’s less posh than the other?” Realization dawned across her face. “Finance bro?”
“Finance bro.” I seemed to have a knack for picking up men who’d enjoyed an expensive education.
“Babe, I’ve told you about this.” Bex leveled me with a serious stare. “Get off the dating apps, no self-respecting person uses them any more anyway. They’re full of—”
“Finance bros?”
“Well, yes. But I was going to say full of people not looking for something real.”
“And I’ve told you – I don’t need ‘real,’” I said. “Every once in a while, I just need a hot man with a few free hours to spare. Is that too much to ask?”
“Fine.” Bex sighed. “So how was he?”
I considered. “Minus the attitude, I’d give the evening a solid seven and a half.”
“Why not a full score?”
“I had to leave at like 6 a.m. and he was not impressed.”
“What happened?”
“The same thing that usually happens,” I said, stomping over to the fridge. “Work.”
“Oh.” Bex barked a laugh – but not a real one. It always felt like a gift when I made Bex laugh properly. We’d met in the early days of university when we both auditioned for the theater club, although I’d immediately assumed Bex was too cool to want to be part of my social circle. She was all long limbs and ice-blonde hair, with bright eyes and a perfect smattering of freckles. I in contrast was shorter and stubbier, with an unruly mop of brown hair that could never look as elegant as Bex’s in a million years. But when we were paired up to do an improv challenge, I had made what I’d considered to be a lame joke, yet Bex had guffawed so hard at it that heads had turned. From then, we’d been inseparable and Bex’s laughter remained one of my favorite sounds to this day. Like me, Bex was also from a small working-class town in Yorkshire, and adjusting to the pace of London had bonded us completely. After graduation, moving in together wasn’t even a question, it was a given. Our rented flat in Archway was tiny but chic, thanks to Bex’s skills as an interior designer. “What was it this time?”
“Honestly, I can’t even talk about it,” I groaned.
“Let me guess, Lin forced you into hand-holding someprecious darling director through some basic life tasks that they couldn’t be bothered to do?”
I shut the fridge door, milk in hand. “Yup.”
“Mate, when are you going to get promoted?” Bex said, rolling up her yoga mat. “Lin working you into the ground was bad enough but she’s now actively cock-blocking you.”
“I know, I know,” I said. “Although being called away for work is actually the best way to make a swift exit from a one-night stand, FYI.”
“He wasn’t a keeper then?”
“Nah.” I flicked the kettle on. “He tried to get me to stay for a coffee—”
“The BASTARD!” Bex declared, brandishing a fist in mock outrage.
“Hah. It’d never have worked,” I said. “My rugby knowledge, or lack of, would never have been up to scratch.”
