Page 17 of Asking For a Friend

“I’m an escort.” I try not to smile.

“Whoa! I bet that pays well, and hell, if they all look like that guy. Ker-ching, right, man? Best job in the world.”

I block out the rest of his monologue. What would it have been like if I’d said yes? What would we be doing right now? Maybe lying on the sofa, him running his hands up and down my back. His nimble fingers would tease my shirt from my trousers to get to my skin. I would undo the button on his shirt, getting my first glimpse of his chest, then trace my fingers around his nipples. They stiffen and pebble as goosebumps spread like a wave over his pecs.

“We’re here.” The driver breaks my fantasy, which floats away like a cloud.

“Thank you.” I reach for the door handle. “I’m not really an escort.” I get out of the car and walk to my door.

“Brunch?”

The one word my best friend messaged me cuts through my concentration. I’ve been struggling with one scene all morning, probably because it’s a sex scene and my head is still full of Hesketh and what I turned down last night. When I got home, I did message him, thanking for a lovely time and asking him to lunch on Monday. He sent me a picture of his bed and wish you were here. I sent one back with Flanaghan stretched out on my stomach.

Yeah, sure. Where do you want to go?

André’s? In an hour?

See you there.

I close my laptop and stretch, groaning when my back creaks and cracks. That’s why I go to the coffee shop to work. Slouching on my sofa isn’t good for me. After a shower, I rummage through my wardrobe for something to wear. Every T-shirt I find is either so worn it’s virtually see-through or has holes in it. When did I become so scruffy? I’m going to have to bite the bullet and go shopping. My favourite vintage shop in Camden would be a good choice.

The walk to André’s takes about ten minutes. Connor and Thom are approaching from the other direction, and I wait for them at the door.

“Hey, not bad timing. Is Scottie coming?”

Thom laughs. “Nope, our Scottie boy is loved up!” He waggles his eyebrows.

I pull the door open, and the aroma of great coffee and good food fills my nose. “Who’s the poor unfortunate soul?”

“That guy Dylan from his birthday party. Hey, he’s a friend of your boyfriend, right? You’ll be double-dating in no time.”

We find a table, and I take a seat facing out into the café. “Hesketh isn’t my boyfriend. We’ve gone on one date.”

“Bullshit. You’ve had lunch with him almost every day for the last three weeks. They count.” Connor gives me a pointed look and a raised eyebrow that says ‘don’t you dare deny it’. “And now I want details of the date. It obviously ended without you getting your end away, since you’re here.”

With a sigh, I pick up the menu and ponder my answer. “To me, it was a first date, and it was good. We talked, and I mean really talked. He’s fun, and I like being around him. We went back to his place, and after another drink, I called an Uber and went home. I think we’ll be doing it again.”

Both of my friends are cringing at me, but Connor speaks up. “Good and fun. Those two words scream disaster night. I thought you were into him?”

“I am, and if you must be totally nosy, he’s a fucking awesome kisser. It felt like he’s packing something more than decent in his trousers, and when he asked me to stay the night, I said, ‘not this time,’ but I really wanted to. Oh, I did tell the driver I was an escort, which was why I was leaving.”

“Oh, my god. You’re mad. Please tell me you’ve arranged to see each other again,” Thom asks.

“We’re having lunch again tomorrow. Can we please now drop it?”

They share a look but nod.

“One more thing. He’d be interested in coming with me to the signing at the end of next month.”

“Really? That’s great, and it’s on the weekend, so you’d better get down to business. Y’know, start doing the nasty with and to each other.”

“Yes, Connor, everyone in the whole room knows what you mean.” I roll my eyes at him, but he has no shame and waggles his eyebrows again.

“Good, because if you leave it any longer, your hole will close over.”

Someone snorts at the table next to us, and I look sideways. A cute young man is giggling while an older man gives him what is probably supposed to look like a stern face but really is one of utter love and adoration. “Felix, behave. It’s rude to listen to other conversations.”

“But, Daddy, he wasn’t being quiet. I couldn’t not hear it.” The young man flutters his eyelashes.

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