Page 83 of The Dicktionary Club

Philip caught up with me and pointed to a black Range Rover. A man was sitting in the driver’s side.

‘You’re not driving?’ I asked.

‘No. I thought I’d join you in the back. I got us a nice bottle of champagne,’ he said, heading towards the vehicle and opening the door for me.

There was no denying it: this man had exceptional manners. I slipped into the back and watched the twinkling lights on the ceiling give a starry-night effect. My Fiat 500 was lucky if it had half a tank of fuel in it.

Philip wandered to the other side and joined me.

‘Thanks, Pat. That’ll be us now,’ he said in his deep voice to the driver.

Pat pulled out and we headed towards the motorway.

Philip poured me a glass of champagne and handed it over; Iwaited for him to pour his own, then held my glass up.

‘To your new bar. I wish you all the luck in the world with it,’ I said.

Philip’s dark eyes hung on mine for a second, then he grinned. ‘Thank you. And to your exhibition! It’s getting closer.’

‘Yep, next week.’ I grinned.

We clinked our glasses together, and I sipped at the bubbles.

‘Which door do you actually live at, by the way?’ Philip asked as he took a swig.

‘What do you mean?’ I laughed. ‘You were just at my house.’

‘No, I was outside your home. But normally, people let me up. It is courteous, you know, rather than leaving someone outside in the cold.’

I shook my head. ‘I don’t let strange men into my home. Plus, it’s like twenty degrees, Philip.’

‘Strange men? Wow.’ He sank back into his seat.

‘You know what I mean.’ I laughed it off. ‘I just like my space to myself, I guess.’

‘I bet you’re a secret hoarder or something. Do you have pets? Maybe you have a zoo up there and don’t want me seeing how you really live,’ he suggested playfully.

I paused, wondering if this was some reverse psychology trick to get back to my apartment later. ‘Yeah, I’m a secret hoarder. How did you know?’

Philip smirked, knowing I wasn’t falling for his tricks.

‘Have you always lived alone, Pilates?’

Fuck, every time he said that name, it gave me the fear. I rolled my eyes at him for teasing me for it.

‘No, not always.’

Philip hummed. ‘It’s going to be a long night if you don’t engage in conversation.’

I simpered. ‘Well, nosy, I lived with my ex, Joshua, for a while. It was another flat, though. I’ve always lived alone in thisone,’ I told him.

‘And why is Joshua an ex?’

I suddenly felt uncomfortable. I didn’t want this man’s pity or to look like a damsel requiring rescue, so I mimicked his earlier hum.

‘We were young, and I wanted different things. I was really passionate about my career, he was passionate about other things, so ultimately, we were incompatible.’

‘Ahh. I see.’ Philip pondered. I could tell he was thinking up his next question, but I didn’t fancy chatting about Joshua again.

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