A Girl Like You by Gemma Burgess Read Free Book Online

in Bethnal Green, and one in Highgate . . .’ Robert shoots him a shut-up look and Luke responds with a wide – albeit slightly watery – grin.
    ‘Well, I’m free again now, so all’s well that ends well,’ Robert says.
    Funny, how men call it being free and women call it being alone, isn’t it?
    Soon Plum is talking about the lack of men in London. She’s either already pissed, or wants Robert to know she’s really, definitely, totally single.
    ‘I go out four motherfucking nights a week. I am in bars and parties and I’m not obese or revoltingly ugly. And yet I cannot meet a decent man. It’s just fucknuckle after fucknuckle, time after time . . .’
    ‘Seriously, can you please not swear for just one minute?’ says Sophie.
    ‘No I cannot! There are no fucking men in London.’
    ‘That’s just not true,’ says Robert.
    ‘Are you saying I am meeting men without my knowledge?’ Plum reaches out and pokes Robert in the arm.
    ‘No,’ says Robert matter-of-factly. ‘I’m saying you’re closed to opportunity. Take right now: you’ve got your back to the crowd. You can only see us. I’ve seen every woman who’s walked in . . . and out . . . and in again. ’Scuse me,’ he adds, getting up.
    We all turn wordlessly and watch him walk up the steps to inside The Cow, where I can see a pretty, model-esque blonde wearing a bowler hat and pretending not to see him.
    ‘He’s not that attractive,’ says Plum decisively. She’s evidently decided, in the face of his utter non-flirtation with her, to stop throwing herself at him. ‘And he’s a smartarse.’
    ‘That must be why you’ve stared at him nonstop since he sat down,’ says Sophie. Plum flicks a piece of ice at her.
    From my seat, I can see Robert quite clearly. He’s standing at the bar, still wearing my cat-eye sunglasses, and is grinning down at the bowler-hat girl. Then he takes them off and leans in, as though he didn’t hear what she said the first time.
    Robert doesn’t have the sleazy, shark-like twinkle of other lothario types. He just seems calm and certain about – well, everything. It’s obviously charming to other women. I’m clearly immune to it.
    I tune back into the conversation for a few seconds. ‘Italy, I think, and then driving to Provence—’ Sophie is saying. Luke gazes lovingly at her when she talks, it’s so cute. They met when he walked past a pub in Soho, saw her through the window, went in and drank alone at the bar till he had the courage to go and talk to her. And that was it.
    I hope it’s that easy for everyone, i.e. me.
    Robert soon returns, putting his phone back in his pocket. He must have just got her number, I think to myself. Smooth.
    ‘Have you recovered from your disastrous date, Abigail?’ he asks. He maintains very steady eye contact, I’ve noticed. I bet that’s part of the whole calm thing.
    ‘Yes, thank you. So, are you taking bowler hat to dinner?’
    ‘Who? Her? No. She’s not dinner material.’
    ‘What is she then? Tell me you don’t booty call. It’s so five years ago.’
    ‘I’m not that kind of boy,’ he says, sipping his drink thoughtfully. ‘They booty call me, if anything . . . No, she’s a fancy-afew-drinks-if-you’re-out-at-about-10 pm text.’
    ‘A short-term investment,’ I suggest. ‘You’re a bit of a bastard, aren’t you? I suppose your singledom rules will make me a bastard, too.’
    ‘They’re just survival skills, Abigail,’ he replies easily. ‘Don’t overthink them. So. What did you get up to last night? Give your number out to all and sundry?’
    ‘Yeah, I got stickers printed up,’ I reply. His know-it-all attitude is kind of annoying. ‘Aren’t you tired of talking about my dating life?’
    ‘I find it interesting,’ he says. ‘Like a parallel universe of naivety and optimism.’
    I glare at him for a moment, and then start to laugh. ‘Fine. His name is Josh,’ I whisper, so Plum can’t hear. ‘He works in HR, and I met him at the