I hadn’t paid much attention to Harry, not because he’s not attractive – he is, if not exactly my type – but because he hadn’t seemed remotely interested. And whilst I would be the first to admit that that is usually exactly my type, tonight I was enjoying feeling attractive.
Which makes it… inconvenient when, in the back of the taxi, I find myself wanting to banter with Harry. Except that, not quite trusting Harry, with his gift of the gab and banker swag, I don’t want to jeopardise my chances with Luke. And because I can’t really see how to pull this one off, I decide to look out of the window.
‘What’s Sussex like?’
Harry working his magic. It’s that simple, boys.
‘Green,’ I say.
It’s a lame response, but something about him spells trouble. And I don’t want trouble.
‘It’s very pretty,’ I go on, ‘in parts. A prettier version of Surrey.’
He’s from Surrey. Whoops.
‘Which bit?’ I say.
It turns out we share the same hometown. A wander down memory lane ensues, in the course of which it emerges that Harry was educated abroad. There are a million questions I want to ask, but I bite my tongue. The taxi comes to a stop outside Luke’s flat and we get out.