Page 64 of Who’s That Girl?

And for a brief moment it all comes rushing back to me. The dizzy high I felt that night we spent together. It was amazing. I seriously thought he was ‘the one’. Followed by the crushing low when I discovered he wasn’t. But then I thought a lot of foolish things when I was younger, I reflect, glancing at him and wondering what on earth I ever saw in him. God, if only I knew then what I know now …

‘Cool.’ Turning the chair round, he straddles it and hugs the back.

My eyes sweep across his shirt, open to the navel, and the crucifix round his neck that’s resting on his smooth, hairless chest. I look back at Lottie, hoping to see her rolling her eyes sardonically or wanting to share a conspiratorial giggle, but no, her eyes have glazed over dreamily.

‘I’m Billy, by the way.’ He holds out his hand and I see a flash of silver in the dimness of the pub. Oh my God, is that …? I peer closer. Just when I thought the lace-up leather trousers and crucifix were bad, it gets worse. He’s wearing a skull-and-crossbones ring.

‘I’m Lottie.’

‘And I’m Charlotte,’ I say, grabbing his hand before Lottie can. Shaking it, I squeeze his fingers just that little bit harder than necessary.

‘Firm handshake you’ve got there,’ he quips as I finally let go. ‘You nearly broke my fingers.’

Like you broke my heart, I’m tempted to reply, only I make do with an innocent, ‘Gosh, really?’

Stretching out his fingers, he turns to Lottie, who’s sitting next to him, staring at him adoringly. ‘So how did you like the gig?’

‘It was great. You were really great,’ she enthuses and then, catching herself, blushes.

Argh. Could I be any less cool?

Billy Romani smiles appreciatively and, pushing back a shock of black hair that is hanging lazily over his forehead, leans closer so that his face catches the light. It’s just as I remember: the high, angular cheekbones, his dark doe eyes, the sultry mouth with the perfect Cupid’s bow. I have to say, despite the man-jewellery and the leather trousers, he’s still the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

Which of course, by rights, makes him a total bastard.

‘That’s good to hear, as we’re working in the studio right now on the new album, trying to lay down some tracks. It’s going to be really raw. It’s a totally fresh sound. A combination of the spiritual meets the physical meets the metaphysical.’

“‘Spiritual meets the physical meets the metaphysical”?’ I snort. He might be able to charm Lottie with this absolute rubbish, but he won’t be able to charm me.

But he’s not paying any attention to me. I’ve suddenly turned into the invisible older friend and instead he’s focusing everything on Lottie.

‘You know, has anyone ever told you you’ve got really long eyelashes?’ he’s saying now, gazing at her intently.

It’s called mascara, dummy, I think, but my younger self just giggles flirtily.

‘And you smell really good.’

I look at him in disbelief. He did not say that line. He did not.

‘Thanks.’

I glance sharply at Lottie. And I can’t believe I’m falling for it. In fact scrap ‘falling’, I realise, watching myself flicking my hair around like I’m in a shampoo commercial. I’ve crashed slap, bang, wallop right at his feet.

I feel a stab of alarm. Shit. This is worse than I thought. I mean, just look at me! I’m a total pushover. There’s a peal of girlish laughter and I see myself angling my body towards his. I swear, leave it another minute and I’ll be nuzzling his chest. That’s right. Nuzzling.

And I’m not even on a first date! Honestly, Charlotte Merryweather, what were you like? I had no idea you used to be so easy.

‘So do you have a boyfriend?’

Fuck. I’ve got to do something. And fast. But what? Panicked, I’m desperately racking my brains when out of the corner of my eye I see him slide his hand on to Lottie’s knee and before I can stop myself—

‘Hey!’

I’m ‘accidentally’ kicking the table and Lottie’s half-finished pint of cider is toppling over and landing all over his lap. Immediately they break apart and he jumps up from his seat.

‘Oops, clumsy me,’ I gasp apologetically.

Seriously, I should have been an actress. I’d have won an Oscar.