Stand-In Saturday (Love For Days #2) - Kirsty Moseley Page 0,23
you less frightened of me?” I genuinely want to know; I don’t want her all kinds of nervous the whole weekend.
She shakes her head. “It’s not you. Now that I’m mentally committed to going, I’m kind of over it. What will be, will be,” she replies. “Now, I’m just worried about the flight.”
“You don’t like flying?”
“I’m not overly keen, no.”
My insides clench. “Why didn’t you say? We could have driven up instead. I mean, it’s, like, ten hours, but if you’re not a good flyer, we could have done that. A couple of friends are driving up today; we could have hopped in with them.”
Tim and Heather wouldn’t have minded a couple of extras in their car. Heather doesn’t like flying either, apparently.
Lucie waves a hand. “I fly. I travel to Italy all the time to see family, so I’ve flown loads since I was a kid. I’ve just never really got used to it, and I get really nervous about it beforehand. Normally, I take a Benadryl, but as it’s only a short flight, I thought better of it. It’s the take-off I don’t like. Once we’re going and the seat-belt sign switches off, I usually feel better. Let’s maybe get some Dutch courage first, huh?” She nods at a bar, and I grin.
A day drinker. Add a tick to the my kind of girl box.
The bar is busier than I expect it to be on a Thursday afternoon, so we have to weave through the crowd. Her hand is fisted into the back of my T-shirt, so we don’t get separated as I try not to run over anybody’s feet with our carry-ons.
I clock the eighteen-year-old wannabe wolf-pack gang from earlier in here, too, drinking their Stella Artois. Lucie follows me to the bar and leans against it. As the group of boys all watch her arse, I step closer and set my hand on the small of her back—a clear sign for them to back the fuck off. I get it though; her arse is spectacular, all J-Lo rounded, and it’s like it pulls your eyes down there with its own gravity. With the denim hugging every inch of it, I can’t even blame them for looking.
I order a Corona Light because I’m driving once we get off the plane in Glasgow, but Lucie opts for a whiskey sour. I’m suitably impressed.
We manage to snag the last empty table, and I lean in closer to be heard over the busy hubbub around us. “I had a bet with my mate as to whether you’d stand me up today.”
She laughs and sips her drink. “Oh, really? He didn’t think I’d show?”
“No, he did. I didn’t.” It’s a joke laced with truth.
She laughs, and the sound makes my insides clench. She’s so easy-going; it’s nice.
“You’d just better not be using me as some sort of pawn in a plan to break up this wedding, Theo. If I get there and find out that this is part of some scheme, you’ll be in so much trouble. I’m not afraid of jail time; I will decapitate you.”
“Savage.” I chuckle but then see the hard glint to her eye. She’s serious. I lean back and cross my finger over my heart. “Honestly, it’s not like that; you’ll see. I’m happy for them. Besides, Amy and I never would have worked anyway; we’re too similar. It’s just … it takes a while to stop wanting someone, you know?”
Her smile falls, and she nods. “I know exactly how that feels. And it sucks.”
Her eyes are sad, and I suddenly realise she’s likely in the same place as me, mentally. She’s not over her cheating ex, and I’m still hung up on Amy. How tragic.
We chink glasses and cheers to our pathetic love lives.
“Did you and Amy ever date?” she asks, sipping her drink, watching me over the rim of the glass.
“Nope, never.” I take my own swig. “I just liked her, but she never knew, and then she got with my twin brother.”
She gasps and then winces. “Your twin? Ouch.”
“Yeah, serious ouch. But it’s okay. I’m over it—well, mostly. Um, Lucie … obviously, it goes without saying that I don’t want this stuff to be common knowledge. No one knows that I have a little, inappropriate crush. If you could keep that to yourself, that’d be great.” I eye her hopefully, but she doesn’t strike me as the sort of person who would intentionally cause trouble for the hell of it.