Page 2 of Going Overboard

He leans over the table, too close for comfort, the overwhelming stench of stale beer and cheap aftershave overwhelming.

‘My boyfriend will be here in a minute,’ I tell him, starting to feel uncomfortable.

‘Oh, yourboyfriend,’ he says mockingly. ‘Suddenly she’s got aboyfriend.’

‘Yep,’ I say weakly.

I glance around, looking for a friendly face, or even the unfriendly face of a bouncer, but I’m not on anyone’s radar right now.

Mario smirks – so much so, his moustache is hanging by a thread now.

‘You don’t seem like you’ve got a boyfriend, princess.’

I furrow my brow involuntarily, because what does that mean?

He shrugs like he’s just said something deeply profound.

‘I’m just saying… if you were mine, I wouldn’t leave you sat out here alone. I’d be by your side, holding your hand, feeding you chips… maybe whispering something dirty in your ear…’

And they say romance is dead.

Mario reaches across the table and takes my hand in his. I try to snatch it away but he keeps tight hold of it.

‘Okay, seriously, I’m not interested,’ I say plainly, because politeness is getting me nowhere.

‘Come on, don’t be like that,’ he says, shaking my hand in his. ‘Just one drink, come on, say you agree – look, you’re shaking my hand, that’s binding.’

‘I’m really not, and I’m really, really not interested,’ I tell him. ‘Can you let go of my hand, please?’

The word please leaves my lips like a reflex, like muscle memory I’ve been trying to shake my entire life.

‘Why, are you worried your fake boyfriend will get jealous?’ he asks.

He clearly doesn’t believe me on that one, which is infuriating, because I do have a boyfriend, and I am waiting for him.

‘Sorry I’m late, babe.’ A voice snaps me from my thoughts as I feel someone sit down next to me.

As I turn to look instinctively I’m greeted by a peck on the cheek – well, mostly the cheek. His lips ever so slightly graze mine on one side.

I just look at him and blink at the absurdity of the situation.

Super Mario somehow stumbles to his feet – that’s the only way I can think to describe it – as panic sets in.

‘Shit, sorry, mate, sorry,’ he babbles. ‘She said she had a boyfriend. I thought she was joking. Sorry, sorry. My bad. No hard feelings, eh?’

‘We’re trying to have a nice day, if you wouldn’t mind pissing off…’

‘Yeah, of course, mate. Sorry,’ Mario replies.

Stunning, really, that Mario wouldn’t take no for an answer from a female, but when a man rocks up he gets not one, not two but – let me just count them quick – five sorrys.

‘Sorry,’ Mario says again – taking it to six.

I don’t know what to say so I just glance back and forth between the two of them.

‘Just… go, yeah? Get back to your mates. Have a good time.’

He leans over to give Mario an encouraging pat on the arm. He’s so cool, calm and collected. It’s a move that somehow seems friendly and low-key threatening. It works.

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