Girls Night Out 3 E-Book Bundle

‘Hello,’ I say, and – stunned into rudeness – turn quickly to Luke before Dave can say anything back. ‘Hi, Luke.’

‘Hello, nearly sister-in-law,’ says Luke, kissing me on the cheek, before dipping Sophie into a huge movie star snog. I have no choice but to turn back to Dave. Oh God. The handsomeness.

‘Can I interest you in a shot?’ says Dave. He has a bottle of tequila strapped to his chest in one of those water bottle holders normally used by runners, with six shot glasses on either side like bullets. In an iPod holster on his left arm is a small salt shaker, and he’s holding a plate of sliced lemons in his right hand. He’s clearly responsible for my sister’s present state.

‘You couldn’t rig up a contraption to hold the lemons with?’ I say. Hold it together, Abigail. His eyes meet mine and my face tingles painfully. I’m blushing.

‘I was hoping to strap this plate to a dwarf’s head,’ he says. ‘But my go-to dwarf is on holiday.’

‘Bummer,’ I reply, my eyes flicking up to meet his and then quickly away. Funny too. Shit. Come on, Abigail. Pull yourself together.

He’s just so handsome. Short dark blonde hair and extremely blue eyes that I can’t look into for more than a half-second. Very tanned, like he’s just been skiing or sailing or something. A huge smile that almost takes over his face. Tallish and fit, perhaps a little on the thin side, but as long as his jeans aren’t smaller than mine I don’t care. In summary, hot as hell. And probably out of my league.

‘Places!’ shouts Dave. Sophie and Luke stop kissing and stand to attention as he hands us all shot glasses from his holster, and fills them up with tequila.

‘I’m not sure that I like tequila shots,’ I say, thinking of that night with Skinny Jeans. Ew. Block it out.

‘No one likes tequila shots, Abigail, my darling,’ says Dave, raising an eyebrow. ‘Obviously.’

Lick hand. Sprinkle salt. Do the shot. Suck the lemon. As I shake my head at the disgusting taste, I look up and meet Dave’s eyes again. God. It’s like being punched in the stomach with – well, sorry, but it’s true – desire. I have never felt like this in my life. I bet we’d have that spark, if we kissed . . .

There is nothing cool or detached about me right now. In fact, I’m quite sure he can read my mind and it’s saying, in very large print: I would like to be naked and in bed with you.

I turn to Sophie.

‘You should call that guy! Jon!’ she exclaims. ‘I heard he really likes you. Did he text you?’

‘Uh, yeah,’ I say distractedly. ‘But I’m not into it.’

‘Can you make up a lie rather than ignore him? Like, that you’re getting back with your ex? At least he won’t have to wonder . . .’

‘Nah,’ I say. ‘Can’t be bothered. I told him I wasn’t looking for a relationship.’

‘You’re being mean. Apparently he’s really lovely . . . Oo! I ran a marathon today!’ she says proudly.

‘I thought it was a charity 5k in Hyde Park at lunchtime?’ I say. God bless drunk attention spans.

‘Whatever. The point is, I ran a long, long way,’ she says. ‘Then I went home to recover, then I met Luke for dinner at Bumpkin, and then Dave announced himself as the captain of fun,’ she says, hiccupping slightly. ‘It’s been a bit crazy ever since.’

‘No, no,’ Dave interrupts. He has a very self-assured way of speaking. ‘Captain Fun. Not the captain of fun. It’s a legitimate name. Abigail, you can see the difference, can’t you?’

‘Absolutely,’ I nod, again stupidly. I wonder if he heard that thing about Jon. At least he’ll know I’m single, right? (Does that sound desperate? Oh God.)

I charge towards Robert, who has just come in with two beers and no Olivia, hissing ‘follow me!’ as I reach him. The moment we’re in the corridor, I collapse dramatically against the wall.

‘Dave. You’re like, best friends with him, right? How have I never met him before? Is he single?’

‘Yes, why?’ says Robert. Then he clicks. ‘Really? Him?’

‘Yes, yes, he’s the first guy I’ve met since breaking up with Peter that I find just – argh, divine,’ I babble. ‘Tell me about him, does he have any deal-breaking faults? Is he nice to waitresses? Do you think he’d like me? Would he ask me out? I think I might take him as my lover.’

‘Your lover? OK, just relax, Abby,’ says Robert. ‘Dave is one of my oldest friends, I can help.’

‘You can?’ I say. ‘Yes. Please. If he’s your best friend, he must be normal! Isn’t this exciting? Finally, I know what I want! I want him!’

‘Just one thing,’ he says, pausing to think for a second. ‘Dave—’

A shout from down the other end of the corridor draws my attention, and I see Henry and Charlotte holding hands and heading out the front door.

‘Look!’ I say, grabbing Robert’s arm. ‘Henry and Charlotte!’

Robert nods. ‘I saw them doing a mating dance in the kitchen.’

‘So, what do I do about Dave?’

Robert thinks for a second. ‘Just ignore him. That’s the best thing you can do.’

‘Really?’ I say doubtfully.

‘Yes, definitely,’ he says.

Plum comes bounding up. ‘This party is awesome! I beg your pardon,’ she says before I can reply, turning around to face the guy behind her. ‘Did you just place your hand on my bottom?’

‘No . . .’ he says. He’s cute, in a beardy way. ‘Maybe. Can I get you a drink to apologise?’

‘I suppose,’ she says, and skips after him into the kitchen, turning to flash us a manic grin.

‘Come on,’ says Robert. ‘I’ll introduce you to everyone.’

The people at this party come not only from all over the country, but all over the world. A Greek girl called Aphrodite is teaching a Liverpudlian called Dylan how to say ‘I’m pregnant with your child’, an American who is, rather fabulously, called Vlad, is standing on a chair having a Cypress Hill song com petition with JimmyJames, and a Canadian guy called Matt asks for my number but then repeatedly calls me Jessica.

‘Where do they all come from?’ I say.

He looks around and shrugs. ‘That’s London for you. I guess JimmyJames and Dave are very good at making friends.’

I love it. As much as I enjoy the warmth of having friends I’ve known since I was 18, these people don’t know me as Peter’s quiet girlfriend, or the girl they always saw in the library, or Plum’s subdued friend, or Sophie’s less fun, elder sister. I have a blank slate. As a result I’m a bit louder and more confident than I’ve ever been before. I talk more and laugh louder. It’s brilliant.

Throughout all of it, I’m acutely aware of exactly where Dave is on the other side of the room, what he’s doing and who he’s talking to. I’m discreetly tracking him. He’s so good-looking and funny, and exudes confidence and charm. If he was to come and talk to me, could I be cool and detached? Would I clam up or babble? I have no idea. But I’m following Robert’s instructions and ignoring him.

Then I head into the kitchen for a refill. ‘You’re Robert’s flatmate,’ says the girl in too many sequins that I saw talking to Robert earlier.

‘Yes,’ I say, though it wasn’t really a question. ‘I’m Abigail.’

‘I’m Emma,’ she says. ‘I expect Robert’s told you about me.’

‘Oh, yes, Emma! Of course.’

Her eyes fill with tears. ‘He hasn’t ever mentioned me, has he? Bastard.’