Page 79 of Who’s That Girl?

Well, not any more, I think, watching myself in fascination as I bop around near the DJ, shaking my hips to the music without any inhibition. Nowadays I have to be completely drunk to dance. I’m way too self-conscious otherwise. But look, there I am, shaking my thing for all the world to see and I’m not even drinking, I realise, seeing myself swigging from a bottle of water.

Speaking of which … Driven by my own thirst, I make my way over to the bar to get a drink. Away from the dance floor, it’s a bit quieter, and spotting a spare bar stool, I plonk myself on it gratefully.

‘Yes, what can I get you?’

I glance up to see a pair of pale grey eyes looking at me expectantly from behind the bar. For a split second my brain does that thing where you think you know someone and are about to smile and say hi, before realising that you have no idea where you know them from and have to stop yourself before you look like a moron.

‘Um … yes, I’ll have a bottle of water, please.’

‘Coming right up,’ nods the barman.

He is about to turn away when my curiosity gets the better of me. ‘Excuse me?’

He stops what he’s doing.

‘Have we met?’

He surveys me for a moment, then shakes his head. ‘Nope, don’t think so.’

I feel a flash of embarrassment. ‘My mistake. I just could have sworn I’ve seen you before.’

‘You probably have. I work behind the bar at the Wellington too.’

‘Oh, that must be it.’ My mind flicks back to last night. ‘Sorry about last night.’

He raises his eyebrows.

‘I spilled a drink; you cleared it up.’

‘Oh, yeah.’ He nods, registering. ‘You were with the guy from the band. Billy Romani.’

‘Don’t remind me.’ I pull a face and he smiles.

‘Not a fan, then?’

‘You could say that.’ I return a rueful smile. ‘What about you?’

He sucks in air between his teeth. ‘Not really my kind of music,’ he says diplomatically, but the way the muscle in his jaw clenches tightly makes me think it might not be a bad idea to change the subject.

‘So … um … you work here too?’ I ask, then immediately wish I hadn’t, considering it’s rather obvious as he’s standing behind the bar.

But if he thinks it’s a stupid question, he doesn’t show it.

‘Well, someone has to,’ he quips.

‘You don’t like it here?’ I feel a sudden bond. So, I’m not the only one suffering.

‘Well, I wouldn’t call it my dream job,’ he continues, ‘but I need the money and the experience. Plus the tips come in useful,’ he adds, and winks cheekily.

All at once I feel myself blush like a schoolgirl, and as he turns away to get my drink, I sneak a proper look at him. Despite seeing him in the Wellington, I haven’t taken much notice of him before. He’s got a straggly ponytail and tie-dye T-shirt, but even so he’s really quite attractive, I realise, trying not to look at his tanned, muscular arms and looking right at his tanned, muscular arms.

But only on a purely aesthetic level, of course. I mean, it’s not as if I fancy him or anything like that. I’ve got a boyfriend. A really lovely boyfriend. And we’re buying a house and moving in together.

Plus he’s still just a boy. Practically a baby, in fact.

As he leans over to pull a bottle of water out of the fridge, his T-shirt rides up and I watch his back muscles ripple. Hastily I look away. Gosh, it really is hot in here, isn’t it? Feeling a trickle of sweat run down between the cups of my underwired bra, I grab a beer mat and start fanning myself hard.

‘There you go.’ Smiling, he passes me the bottle of water, his tanned forearm flexing as he reaches towards me.