the chance when she was asked out by someone without having to go through all that rigmarole. And Fabian was, on the face of it, quite the catch. He was handsome, if you could overlook the fake teeth and dead eyes. He must be intelligent, to have all those business ideas. And if the sleek black Lexus he parked on double yellow lines outside the gym was anything to go by, he was wealthy too.
Not that I was jealous – I wouldn’t have dated Fabian if Tinder lived up to its name and burned to the ground along with every man in it. I just wanted Dani to not have her confidence knocked the way Seth had knocked mine, not be disappointed like Justin had disappointed me, not have a load of abuse hurled at her like Paul had hurled at me. I just wanted her to not get hurt, and I suspected Fabian was the hurting type.
Eleven
With Venus rising, love is in the stars – and you could find it where you least expect to…
‘I mean, I’m sure he’s just busy,’ Dani said. ‘He must be, right? With all those businesses to run and stuff.’
I delved into the bowl of Doritos and took one with loads of chilli seasoning on it. We were in the living room of Dani’s shared flat, with the place to ourselves as her flatmates were all out – one having tea with his mum, one away for the weekend camping with her boyfriend, and one at an all-day work conference with drinks afterwards in the evening. Nothing wildly exciting, admittedly, but it made Dani’s and my lack of dates or social lives feel all the more tragic by comparison. So when she’d suggested earlier, after our workout, that I drop round to hers in the evening for Netflix and a takeaway, I’d jumped at the chance.
Even if it meant listening to her agonise about Fabian on repeat.
‘You mustn’t let him treat you like a doormat, Dani. Seriously. How long does it take to send a text?’
‘I know, I know. But we’ve only been on one date. It’s not like we’re serious or anything. Yet.’
He might not be, but you are, I thought. I splashed some more of the pinot grigio I’d brought into our glasses.
‘I could call him, I suppose,’ Dani said, as if the idea had only just occurred to her for the first time, quite out of the blue.
‘No, you couldn’t.’
‘Why not? It’s the twenty-first century.’
‘Because you have already.’
Dani met my eyes with a look of wide-eyed innocence, then dropped her gaze and giggled. ‘Okay. I have.’
‘How many times?’
‘Just the once. Well, once that I left a message.’
‘And how many times when you didn’t?’
She checked her phone, even though I knew she didn’t need to. ‘Twice.’
‘And how many times with your number withheld, to see if he’d pick up if he didn’t know it was you?’
‘Bloody hell, Zoë. This is like being on Burden of Truth.’
‘So? How many times?’
‘Five,’ she admitted.
‘And did he pick up?’
‘Nope.’
‘So you see. That’s good really. It means he probably is actually busy, and he isn’t just avoiding you.’
Although it could equally mean that he was one of those people who no one ever rings without arranging a time first, and so a bunch of calls, three from Dani’s number and five from an unknown one, were all blatantly the same person. But of course I didn’t say that.
‘Do you really think so?’
‘It’s possible. But don’t call him again, okay? Otherwise I’m going to have to take your phone off you and hide it, and then when he does ring you won’t be able to answer.’
‘Promise.’ Reluctantly, Dani put her phone down. Then she picked it up again. ‘Shall we order food? And find a movie to watch?’
‘And open another bottle?’
‘Done. Pizza or curry?’
‘Pizza. I cook spicy food all the time at work, and I’ve been craving pizza ever since I heard Papa John’s are doing one with fake cheese and jackfruit pepperoni,’ I said.
‘And I love their ham and pineapple.’
‘Pineapple? On pizza? Who are you and what have you done with my mate?’
‘I know, I know. It’s my guilty secret,’ she replied.
‘So when you see Fabian again, and you’re in bed with him after a totally mind-blowing shag, and he suggests you get a takeaway, you’d order ham and pineapple?’
‘No! God, no. Not in front of him. I’d have something proper posh, like with anchovies and olives and those caper things, and then I’d be thirsty for