Free Virgin by Radhika Sanghani Page B

face.”
    Ah. “Well, I mean, we just don’t have much in common. Like . . . I’m a nice person and she’s not.”
    “Ouch! Where did that come from?”
    “I honestly didn’t mean to say that.” I gestured towards the now-empty glass I was holding. “I think maybe it was the wine that said it.”
    “Then I think we should fill that up again. This is getting entertaining.”
    “Getting? Excuse me?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. Oh my God, I was flirting. Emma’s dress was clearly giving me all of her vibes. I was on a roll.
    “You’re right,” he said, smiling at me. “This has all been fun. In fact, hey, do you want to maybe do it again?”
    Oh my God, he was asking me out. An actual, real guy was asking me out. A twenty-six-year-old
man
was asking me out, and he had a job. I bit my lip to hide the elation bursting out of me, and as casually as I could, I replied, “Sure.”
    He grinned back at me. “Cool, do you want to give me your number then?”
    I read my number out to him and saw him pause when he was about to type in my name. Oh God, I knew there had to be a catch. He had managed to forget my two-syllable name.
    He looked up. “Erm, how do you spell your name again?”
    I sighed. “It’s Ellie. Which is E-L-L-I-E because there really isn’t any other way to spell it. I can’t believe you forgot my name.”
    He flushed red. “Sorry. Can I blame this on the Beaujolais too?”
    I made a mental note to Google this wine, and a couple of others while I was at it so I could look a bit more sophisticated on our date. Oh my God,
date
. I beamed and took his number happily.
    “So, I’d better go find Emma,” I said finally.
    “Yeah, it’s like—wow, it’s one a.m.,” he said as he looked at his watch. “We’ve been chatting for about three hours now.”
    “Shit, Emma’s probably furious,” I said, whilst my insides danced for joy at the fact that a guy had asked for my number after spending three hours chatting to me exclusively.
    “I wouldn’t be too sure. Isn’t that her on top of that guy?”
    I glanced over to where he was pointing and burst out laughing. “That girl is amazing. I hope that guy realizes how lucky he is.”
    Jack smiled uncertainly so I quickly carried on. “Anyway,” I said, jumping to my feet. “I’m going to go and intrude on that because I’m exhausted and need to go home.”
    He got up and smiled at me. “Good luck. It was good to meet you.”
    He put out his right arm and as I was about to walk up to him for a hug, he clenched his hand into a fist. I stared at it. Why was he screwing his hand into a fist? Jesus, was he going to punch me?
    Alarmed, I started to step back as he raised his fist. He reached out towards me and bumped his fist against my right hand, which was hanging limp by my side. Had he just fist-bumped me goodbye? All thoughts of a goodbye kiss slowly evaporated.
    “Um, okay,” I said slowly. “I’m going to go now, so bye then.” I looked at him expectantly, giving him one last chance to kiss me or, at the very least, hug me.
    He lifted his eyebrows and smiled, before turning away and walking towards Eric and Hannah, who were now snogging on another sofa. I looked down at my right hand and sighed. So much for my romantic goodbye.

Four days later, I was at home with my mum, living in a state of limbo. Jack still hadn’t texted me. I was trying not to think too much about it but every time my phone beeped I jumped and had to restrain the wild feelings of hope when I read the message and it wasn’t from Jack.
    I was starting to wonder if I was untextable. On Day One, I had fully expected a message but there was nothing. Then I thought,
Okay, maybe he doesn’t want to come across as too keen
, so on Day Two I figured he would get in touch to hang out that Saturday night. On Day Three, I remembered all the dating books said to wait three days, so I expected a message, assuming he was just following the three-day rule.
    But . . .