Read Online Little White Lies by Gemma Townley - Free Book Online Page B

spin, finished off with a winning smile into the mirror. I’m ready to go. “Think sassy,” I say under my breath. “Think sexy. Think . . .”
    I’m interrupted by the sound of someone coming up behind me. Which is strange, because no one has come in since I’ve been here, so where have they come from? I look in the mirror to see who it is and freeze. Oh. My. God. It’s Alistair. He’s in here. He’s in here with me, and he must have heard me . . .
    I try to smile casually, but it’s no good. My whole face is cringing and bright red.
    “I, er, I thought this was the ladies’!” I manage to say in a strangled voice.
    “Yeah, well, it’s unisex,” Alistair says slowly.
    “Unisex! Like
Ali McBeal.
”
    Stop talking, I will myself. You can only make things worse.
    “Er, yeah, I suppose so. I don’t watch it myself.”
    “No, well. So, er, how are you?”
    “Not bad. You?”
    “Oh, you know.”
    “Yeah. Yeah, I do know.” I’m sure Alistair smirked when he made that last comment. Oh, God. He saw me dancing, he heard every word I said, and he’s going to tell everyone. My life might as well be over.
    “I don’t usually talk to myself in the loo, you know,” I say pleadingly. “I didn’t realize there was anyone else in here.”
    “I usually sing, so I wouldn’t worry,” Alistair says, grinning, and winks as he walks out of the door.
    My heart is beating quickly and my face is all flushed. Why couldn’t I have kept my big mouth shut? And why did I have to say “boy next door.” Alistair lives upstairs from me. He’s going to know exactly who I was talking about, and rather than thinking of me as sophisticated and sexy girlfriend material, he’s going to think I’m a crazy woman who carries her belongings round in an old shopping trolley and warns people to beware the Ides of March or something. Inwardly cringing, I make my way out of the loo and back to the table, hoping against hope that I don’t have to see Alistair again for the rest of the evening. And that maybe he’ll move out of my building tomorrow.
    But as luck would have it, Alistair is sitting with Julie and Lucy, with another guy I vaguely recognize as a friend of Alistair’s—I think I’ve seen him going into Alistair’s flat. I try to look as normal as possible as he is introduced to me as Michael. It turns out he works at Joseph.
    “I’ve seen you on the stairs, haven’t I?” he asks me. “At Alistair’s place?”
    “Yeah.” Please swallow me up, I beg the ground. Please let me wake up and discover this was all a dream.
    “Drink?” Michael asks, and I nod gratefully. I could actually do with a drink of water or something—the vodka is going to my head. Although that’s not necessarily a bad thing. As far as I can tell, no one’s laughing at me—so Alistair can’t have told them . . . yet. In the meantime, I think a drink might just help me forget how embarrassed I am.
    But instead of going up to the bar, Michael pulls a bottle of vodka from his jacket pocket and fills up my glass.
    “Cheers!” he says, grinning, and I take a gulp.
    I notice Julie slip off in Jason’s direction and take another gulp of vodka. There’s sixties Motown music coming out of a speaker just above us, and I look around the room trying to think of something to say to Michael.
    “Do you live nearby?” I ask after a while.
    “What?” Michael asks, unable to hear me because of the music.
    “You. Live near. Here,” I shout in his ear. He nods and sort of smiles.
    Oh, God, he’s bored. He’s bored because I have no idea what to talk to him about. But why would I? I’m a crazy person who talks to her own reflection. Not for the first time this evening I wish I were more debonair. Julie and Lucy’s conversation is so different from the conversations I have with Chloe—it’s all “blah blah guest list” or “blah blah cool-band-I’ve-never-heard-of.” It’s like learning a new language, and I don’t even have a phrase