âLyssa! You could at least pretend to be listening while Iâm telling you about my abysmal date. The odd acknowledgement wouldnât hurt. Even a grunt, so Iâm actually convinced youâre still alive.â
âHuh? What?â I glanced up from the theatre seating plan Iâd been colouring for the last half-hour â red for empty seats, blue for those that had already been reserved, and green for the corporate bookings â to find my favourite workmate glowering at me. The only trouble with working in the theatre box office was that it was either all go, phones ringing, people hammering on the window for attention, or else afternoons of endless, coma-inducing nothingness. Programmes didnât need stapling, ice-cream didnât need ordering, and even the drinks tickets for tonightâs interval were already printed. Of course Iâd zoned out. âSorry, Hats. I didnât mean to ignore you. Go on, you were saying you touched him, right?â
Hattie scrunched two handfuls of her naturally jet-black hair and sighed. âJeez, Lyssa, you really werenât listening, were you? Point one: the main focus of a first date is not to cop a feel of a guyâs tackle. Point two: Bryan never even kissed me. Thereâs no way heâd have let me grope him. We didnât even shake hands.â
Surprised, and not entirely on board with Hattieâs version of dating, I plastered on a sheepish grin that would hopefully diffuse some of Hattieâs anger. When roused she bore a certain similarity to a Chinese firecracker, and she could be vicious with a staple gun.
âIt turns out he has obsessive compulsive disorder. It means he has to disinfect after he comes into contact with anything foreign. We lasted twenty minutes before I called it off. I couldnât take the scent of alcohol gel any longer.â
âOK. I can see how that might have caused some problems.â Itâd definitely rule out anything similar to the night Iâd enjoyed at the gallery. Though Iâd suffered for it the following morning, and itâd left me wondering about several things. How could a man be so into me, but not want to touch me? I didnât suppose Iâd ever find out. It wasnât as if weâd exchanged numbers, and even if we had, I wouldnât have expected him to call.
âBut you did say you were kissing someone, right? I swear I distinctly heard the K word mentioned.â
Hattieâs pretty almond-shaped eyes narrowed to two thin slits. âNo, all I did was speculate what it might be like to actually date someone I fancied for a change, rather than the losers DatesRUs keep pairing me with.â
âOh, Hats.â I hid my smile. She really didnât need a match making service, and certainly not one with such a dire name. Hattie was lovely; delicate and refined in the way only the Chinese seemed to manage. All she needed to do was lower her standards from the heights of perfection they were currently set upon, or failing that get a guy home with her long enough to experience her cooking. Iâd tasted her dumplings â and sworn undying love to her shortly afterwards.
âSeriously, Lyssa why does it have to be so hard? You never have any trouble finding yourself a nice guy. I know you have Nathan now, but even before him there was always a steady stream. You never wanted for a date if you fancied a night out.â
âHm.â Only partly true. My list of exes included the jobless, the homeless, an entrepreneur and an investment banker. None of whom had been great choices. I certainly had bad memories about coming second in importance to a sock empire. âIâm not exactly choosy,â I reminded her.
âSo youâre saying I have to lower my standards.â Hattie pursed her cute little Cupidâs bow lips and thought for a moment, before dismissing the advice. âI donât think I can do it. I mean, he needs to be fit and at least reasonably good looking for starters. And he canât smell. Plus, he has to be able to hold a conversation about more than Smartphone apps and sport. But I donât want a geeky professor either.â
She really didnât ask for much.
âAnd good in the bedroom department,â I suggested.
âAnd good in the ââ Hattieâs lips twisted into a puckered moue. âIâm not bothered about that. As long as he knows where to put it, weâll be fine.â
âRight.â I nodded tactfully, what was point in discussing this when I knew she already had her heart set on the impossible? Sure enough, Hattieâs gaze strayed to the huge black and white close-up of Leif Haralsson that sat directly opposite the booking desk. There was no denying the theatreâs current male lead oozed style. Every inch of his tall, wiry frame was perfection. He looked fab in clothes. He probably looked even better out of them. Couple that with his soft, candid blue eyes, a birdâs nest of light blond hair, and he was a female fantasy made flesh.