I want epic love, like you see in the movies. I want it so desperately that it fills my heart when I even think about the possibility of it.

“I think that would be even worse than going with my dad,” I say, and then knock back a big gulp of wine.

Jay makes a mock gasp. “Matilda, I didn’t know you had it in you to be so rude!”

“Oh, shut up. You’re not offended in the slightest.”

He smirks. “Yeah, you’re right. But I still want to go with you. It’ll be hilarious.”

“And that right there is why you’re not coming. No siree, Bob.”

“Oh, go on,” says Michelle, butting in. “Let him go. What’s the worst that could happen?”

I look at her, and she’s got a strange calculating expression on her face as she glances between Jay and me.

“Plenty worst can happen, Dr. Pepper,” I answer firmly. “Anyway, I’ve already decided I don’t want to go anymore.”

“But you spent all that money,” Michelle pouts.

“Yeah, Watson. You spent all that money,” Jay agrees, nudging me with his elbow.

I don’t say anything, leaning forward and resting my chin on my arm in dejection. It does really annoy me, thinking of all the money I forked out for the tickets. Michelle gets up from the table then.

“Listen, you two discuss it between yourselves. I need to use the ladies’ room, and then I’m going to chat up the fox sitting over by the bar all by his lonesome. Toodles!”

Eh, come again? I thought she had her heart set on bagging Jay tonight. What a fickle web her libido weaves.

“Toodles?” Jay asks, one eyebrow raised.

“Rhymes with poodles,” I mumble.

“And noodles.”

“Doodles.”

“Oodles.”

“Strudels.”

“Googles?” says Jay. I shake my head and smile for the first time since Michelle decided to embarrass me. “Okay, I got nothing.”

“Ha! I win the rhyming war,” I declare, and sit up straighter, my hand going for the wine again.

“You feeling better now?” Jay asks, voice low.

“Slightly.”

His arm moves across the back of the couch we’re sitting on. “You’re too fucking cute,” he says, his mouth close to my ear. “You should let me go with you to the thing.”

I eye him and fold my arms. “Can you please forget about that? I’m still dying of embarrassment.”

“How about if I pretend to be a gay dude for the entire day? Will that make you feel less embarrassed?”

“Yeah, like anyone would believe that. I don’t even get why you want to come. It’s for single women, not men.”

“Didn’t I just say I’d pretend to be gay? That way I’d be there for the same thing as everyone else.” He grins.

I narrow my eyes at him. “You think you’re so clever. Fine, you can come, but you have to promise to take it seriously.”

He swipes his fingers over his chest, making a little X-shape. “Cross my heart. So, it’s settled. I’m coming.”

“Yeah,” I sigh, and glance across the room to see Michelle approaching the guy she said she had her eye on. I still don’t get why her interest in Jay has disappeared so abruptly. Perhaps she decided she doesn’t like all his tattoos. Not that you can see much of them with the way he’s dressed right now. And not that I’m not relieved her attention has been diverted. I seem to be developing an ever-growing crush, and watching my best friend get off with said crush might be a little too painful to bear.

Jay moves closer to me on the red velvet couch, his thigh touching mine. “So, you watch porn, huh?”

A spurt of laughter erupts from me. “Trust you to remember that tiny detail, you lunatic. I was being sarcastic. You don’t have to take everything I say as gospel.”

His eyes flicker back and forth between mine. “You watch it. I have quite a varied collection, you know. You’re welcome to borrow from me anytime.” He picks up his drink and takes a swig, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“I don’t watch porn,” I say, adamant.

“Everybody watches porn.”

“Well, I don’t. Porn for me is more cerebral. I get a better thrill out of a really emotionally intense romance than watching two random people go at it.”

He leans closer, interest marking his features. “Yeah? Tell me more.”

Another sip of wine. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Like, you know when Harvey Keitel touches Holly Hunter through the hole in her stockings in The Piano? That turns me on more than seeing actual sex.”

“I bet that’s a fucking sight,” he says under his breath.

“What?”

His arm that’s hanging along the back of the couch moves down to rest on my shoulders. I tense up, my heart beating faster at his closeness. “Nothing. That’s probably the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard, Matilda.”

I expect him to be making fun of me, but when I look at him, there’s nothing but seriousness on his face. Shifting away, I focus on my wine, not saying a word. Michelle’s tinkling laughter trickles over from the bar as she places her hand on the guy’s arm.

Jay follows where I’m looking. “Now, remember I said I’d teach you about body language?”

I nod.

“Well, look at your friend as an example. When a girl likes a guy, she’ll do some subtle touching to show her interest, like Michelle’s doing now. So, if you want to show somebody you’re interested, you can put your hand on their arm or their leg for a second, then take it away.”

I try not to think about how his thigh is still touching mine. What does that mean?

“There’s also eye contact,” he goes on. “If you like a guy, you should be looking at him, not at the floor. Look away when you need to and then look back. Maintaining constant eye contact just looks psycho, so you’ve got to perfect it.”

“I always look at the floor,” I say. “It’s such a bad habit, I know, but I can’t seem to stop.”

In fact, I’m tempted to look at the floor right now, but I’m forcing myself not to; otherwise, Jay might catch on to my crush. Perish the thought.

“Whenever you catch yourself doing it, just stop. After a while it’ll become second nature not to.”

At this the waiter returns to our table, asking if we’d like another round of drinks. Jay tells him to give us the same again, and I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. Hopefully, by the time I get back, Michelle might have returned to the table. It’s strangely intimate sitting alone with Jay, and my antsy disposition urges me to bolt when I’m in situations like that.

There’s a knock on the stall door when I’m doing my business, Michelle calling, “So how’s your night going?”

“It’s going fine, no thanks to you. I can’t believe you told Jay about the seminar. Now I have to bring him with me. He won’t take no for an answer.”

“Oh, he won’t, will he? Well, I think you two will have a great time.”

“We’ll see. It’s going to be a function room filled with two hundred sex-deprived women, and I’m bringing Jay Fields with me. That’s like dangling a bloody steak in front of a bunch of hungry dogs.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. You’re doing those women a favour, allowing them to stare upon such a prime example of maleness.” Michelle laughs, her voice merry. I wonder how many drinks she managed to knock back while she was at the bar.

“Speaking of which, what’s with your sudden lack of interest?” I ask curiously as I flush and leave the stall, going to the sink to wash my hands.

Michelle shrugs and gives me a weird look. “He’s not interested in me. I can tell. And you know I only want men who are willing to worship at my feet.”

“That’s true. So, I guess you’ll be off with Mr Fox from the bar for the rest of the night.”

“For now. If someone else tickles my fancy, I might do a switch.”

We exit the bathroom, and Michelle returns to the bar. As I make my way toward Jay, I notice he’s no longer alone at the table. There’s a redhead sitting beside him, flicking her silky hair over one shoulder. I glance from side to side, weighing my options. Do I go back to the table and suffer being the third wheel, or do I find something else to occupy my time?