I find a new, better boyfriend then they might even have things they can talk about. Things they agree on.
Hopefully not that I need to be quiet though. I can’t be. I’ve tried.
‘I have got to do it!’
I have to do it. I have no choice. And quickly.
My palms are all sweaty, and slightly itchy as I eye up my mobile phone.
Noah bloody Adams is not my type, but he could be the answer. In fact, he’s my first and last resort.
He’s like an earworm, a catchy song that I cannot get out of my mind even though I’m not that keen on it. An itch I can’t quite reach to scratch. But in his case, he’s a funny person with a ludicrous idea. And an infectious laugh. And I can’t seem to shake him out of my head.
I’m sure it’s not actually his infectious laugh that’s the issue here, more the fact that I am now in the ‘desperate’ arena when it comes to my man-drought. And his off-the-wall idea, though bonkers, is all I’ve got. I mean, who knows? This dating lark is completely beyond me, so maybe something as whacky as this could work.
A few pointers and I could discover my inner man-killer.
And then, voilà, I will have my pick of boyfriends to take to the party!
Noah was amusing and quite good company, but also slightly infuriating. He seemed too flirty and fun for me to imagine him hunched over a computer creating 3D perfection, and surely a professional like him is far too busy to have any spare time to teach a girl how to seduce other men? And, I have to admit, though I know one should never generalise and stereotype, I always imagine architects to be serious and family-minded, living in large bespoke Grand Designs-style posh creations, with perfect wives and possibly a very clean cat, or house-trained child who does not leave dirty fingerprints on the polished surfaces.
But I feel that not only do I need Noah to help, I would also like to see him again anyway just to get some answers, and to find a way to banish him from my head, even if his seduction training techniques turn out to be a waste of time.
I wipe the palms of my hands down my jeans and pick up my mobile. What have I got to lose? I can do this. I am not my mother. I am not going to let him into my actual heart. Or my knickers. Or my head.
No harm in just one little chat, is there? I mean, it’s not like I actually fancy him, or he fancies me. It will be like taking acting lessons.
Ahhh … The plan has just hit a snag! What if he wants paying?
I put the mobile down.
Although surely an architect will be too rich to want paying?
Or he values his time so much he will bill me by the second.
Sugar.
Oh, to hell with it. I hit dial and he answers so quickly I don’t get chance to change my mind.
‘Bloody hell, you’re a toughie! Do you realise it is, hang on, nearly twenty hours since you met me, and you’ve only just rung – you’ve set a new record!’
‘Haha.’ I try to keep a straight face and ignore the tremor in my stomach that starts up about a millisecond after his chuckle. I was feeling surprisingly nervous about talking to him again, and the fact he might not even remember me – but strangely enough his warm voice on the other end of the line is comfortingly familiar. ‘You do know who I am?’ Just to be sure. He might know a lot of Rosies.
‘Of course, I do, Rosie!’
‘The Rosie, the one who was,’ I close my eyes briefly and concentrate on not clenching my teeth, ‘stood up.’
‘Yeah, the ghostie-ghosted one who walked for miles in her shoes, drank gallons of prosecco, spent hours defuzzing—’
‘Hours thinking about it, not doing it!’ My God, does he think I’m like a monkey?
‘Mates for life and loves jerky.’ He carries on, ignoring my interruption. ‘The gorgeous Rosie Brown!’
I am quite impressed at his recall, but I suppose this is a seduction technique. I’m not sure I can master this aspect; my memory is a bit random at the best of times.
‘Were you being serious?’ I spit it out before I change my mind and hit ‘end call’.
‘I’m always serious where beautiful women are concerned.’
I sigh. ‘No, you aren’t! Can you quit messing about just