Page 38 of Me and Mr. Darcy

Looking away, I catch Cat’s eye, who throws me a ‘secret smile’, as if to say, ‘Aw, look at you two, pretending to argue.’ I pull a face and try shaking my head to show her she’s got completely the wrong idea, but she just grins all hippy-dippily and wraps her arms drunkenly round Lee.

For a wistful moment I watch them, all coupled up and happy, and I get a sense of hope that maybe there are some decent guys out there, then I glance back at the table. About to take his shot, Spike is leaning so close to the table his belly is almost resting on the baize. In fact – uggh – it is.

As Spike flashes me his naked stomach yet again, an image of the stranger I met this afternoon in the museum suddenly pops into my head. I bet his belly wouldn’t rest on the table, I muse, imagining the six-pack that was no doubt lurking underneath his shirt.

I watch Spike sliding the cue through his fingers.

He has bitten fingernails. I hate bitten fingernails.

That’s one thing I really remember about the guy in the museum. He had lovely hands, with long fingers like a piano player. In fact, I know I’m supposed to be off men, but this guy was different. There was something really – how can I put it? – dignified about him.

Unlike Spike, who’s now making a noise like a pig.

Honestly, the man really is a slob, I think, letting out a burp. Oops, excuse me. This cider is making me a bit gassy.

‘Uggghhh.’ Grunting, Spike hits the white, misses his ball and instead pots the black.

‘Oh, shit, mate,’ gasps Lee, but his voice is drowned out by Cat, who erupts like a shrieking volcano and rushes over to me.

‘Yippee, we’ve won, we’ve won!’

‘Put it there,’ I hear myself exclaiming, high-fiving Cat.

She laughs delightedly. ‘Oooh, I love how you Americans do that.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ I laugh back, though to be honest I don’t really, as I never high-five anyone – in fact, I don’t know what just possessed me to high-five Cat.

‘I think that deserves a drink,’ laughs Cat. ‘Your round, boys.’

At that moment a bell sounds twice. How odd. I thought I heard a bell five minutes ago.

‘Sorry, that’s the end of last orders,’ grins Lee. ‘You weren’t quick enough.’ Then seeing my puzzled expression, explains, ‘That means closing time.’

‘Awww,’ groans Cat, her face falling. ‘Well, we’ll have to do this again sometime.’

‘Definitely.’ Honestly it’s amazing, I’ve only known Lee and Cat a few hours, but I’m feeling quite emotional. I’ve even got the hiccups.

I glance over to the bar, where Maeve and Ernie are engrossed in conversation, their heads bent low, their bodies turned towards one another. You’d have to be blind not to read the body language, and as I catch Maeve’s eye her face flushes like a teenager on a first date. Aww, would you look at that? They look so cute together.

Gesturing for her to wait for me, I turn back to Cat and Lee and launch into a round of hugs and goodbyes and the promise of keeping in touch, until we’re eventually broken up by the barman, who appears to collect our glasses.

‘There you go,’ I hiccup, passing him my empty one. Stumbling to my feet, I turn unsteadily to leave when I notice that Spike’s pint is still half-full.

‘Couldn’t finish that, huh?’ I hear myself slurring. God, I really am a lot more drunk than I thought. Still, I don’t think he noticed.

‘Nope,’ he replies, not looking at me as he hands his cider to the barman.

I feel a hot flush of satisfaction. This is so great. First I beat him at pool, then I drink more than him. That’ll show him!

‘’Fraid I’m a complete wuss when it comes to alcohol. Never could stand the hangovers.’ He grins smugly.

Huh? What? I hiccup loudly and put my hand up to my head, which is beginning to throb.

‘Make sure you drink lots of water,’ he chortles.

And with that he’s walking away across the pub and I’m left behind with a bad case of the hiccups and the woozy feeling that I’ve just been had.

Chapter Eleven