‘Oh, I know. But I also know that Olivia Taylor doesn’t do dating. It’s just what you need.’
‘What I need is for you to stop making such a fuss about it.’ I laugh. By need, she means that I need to get over someone, but I’m slowly concluding that I am, in fact, already over someone. Someone doesn’t have a name. Someone doesn’t even exist. Someone is long forgotten.
‘Okay, okay.’ Sylvie holds her hands up, still grinning, still delighted. ‘What are you going to wear?’
I feel my face pale as I consider Sylvie’s question. ‘Oh God, what am I going to wear?’ My wardrobe is full of Converse in every colour, piles and piles of jeans and endless tea dresses, but they are floaty and girly, not tight and sexy.
‘Don’t panic.’ She holds my shoulders and gives me serious eyes. ‘We’ll go shopping after work. We’ll only have an hour, but I think I’ll come up with something.’
I look down at Sylvie’s skin-tight black jeans and chunky, studded boots and wonder if I should go shopping with her. But then I have a thought. ‘No, don’t worry!’ I break free of Sylvie’s hold and hunt down my satchel, finding my phone. ‘Gregory is off work today. He’ll come.’ I don’t even consider that I may have offended Sylvie until she heaves an exasperated sigh of relief.
‘Thank f**k for that!’ She flops against the worktop. ‘I would’ve endured Topshop for you, Livy, but it would have been pure hell.’ Her brow puckers. ‘Gregory? As in a bloke?’
‘Yes, my best friend. He’s got terrific fashion sense.’
She looks suspicious. ‘He’s g*y, isn’t he?’
‘Only eighty per cent.’ I run out the exit door from the kitchen to the back alley and dial Gregory as I pace up and down.
‘Baby girl!’
‘I have a date tonight!’ I blurt. ‘And I have nothing to wear. You have to help me!’
‘With him?’ Gregory spits. ‘I’m doing nothing except pinning you down. You’re not going out with that prick!’
‘No, no, no! It’s Mr Wide Eyes!’
‘Who?’
‘Luke. A guy who’s been asking for a few weeks. I figured why not.’ I shrug to myself, and I can practically hear the excitement bubbling down the line before Gregory’s even spoken. Then he does speak, confirming my suspicions.
‘Oh my God!’ he shrieks. ‘Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! What time do you finish work?’
‘Five. And I’m meeting Luke at eight.’
‘Buy an outfit and get you ready in three hours?’ he gasps. ‘Bloody hell, it’ll be a challenge, but it’s doable. I’ll meet you at work at five.’
‘Okay.’ I hang up and rush back into the kitchen before my absence is noticed by Del. It’ll be a rush, but I have every faith in Gregory. He has impeccable taste.
As soon as Del’s gone for the day, I run to grab my satchel and denim jacket, giving Sylvie a kiss on the cheek and throwing a wave at Paul, leaving them laughing in the kitchen.
‘Good luck!’ Sylvie calls.
‘Thank you!’ I burst into the fresh air and find Gregory waiting across the road.
He waves his arms frantically, signalling for me to hurry. ‘We have three hours to dress you, preen you, and deliver you to your date. That’s my mission, and I choose to accept it.’ He grins and throws his arm around me, leading me quickly towards Oxford Street.
‘You look cheerful.’
‘I am,’ I admit. Surprisingly to me, I’m looking forward to going on a date. ‘Nice hair.’
‘Thanks.’ His hand glides over his scalp on a smile, prompting one from me.
‘Isn’t it sad that I’ve never actually been on a date?’
‘Yes, it’s tragic.’
I nudge him in the side. ‘You’ve been on enough for both of us.’
‘Yes, that’s tragic, too. But I might be a one-man guy soon.’
‘Aren’t you already?’ I ask, hoping Gregory isn’t about to be crapped all over. He’s stupidly good-looking, and should probably hold all of the cards when it comes to a relationship, but he’s too nice and he’s paid for it in the past. He’s a player when single but devoted when captured.
‘You have to remain open to offers, Livy.’ He sounds resolute, but that look is there again, and it’s screaming fallen.
I’m utterly exhausted by the time we get home. I’ve spent practically every penny I’ve earned since working at Del’s, and I have three outfits – all short and not really me – and two pairs of shoes, neither of which are Converse. It’s a waste. I’ll probably only wear one pair of the shoes this evening, and as for the dresses . . . well, I don’t know what I was thinking.
I’m standing in my towel in front of my wardrobe, running my eyes over each of my new outfits.
‘It has to be the black one.’ Gregory skates his hand down the short tight dress on a sigh. ‘Yes, this one and the black pointed stilettos.’