Dating Down Read online

  “So why do it?” I ask. “There must be a hundred blokes wanting to take you.”

  She stops smiling, and her eyes fill up with tears again.

  “What have I said?” I ask, because I really don’t understand what I’ve done this time.

  “No one ever asks the fat girl out.”

  “You’re not fat,” I tell her, taking full advantage of being able to give her the once-over.

  “Stop being nice.”

  “I’m not nice and you’re not fat,” I say, being as serious as she is. “You’re not one of those skinny types, but you’re not fat. That woman is.” I point at the fatty playing the slot machine. “Look at the size of her arse. She needs two bar stools; I tell you – one for each bum cheek!”

  Tammy sniggers. “Don’t be horrible.”

  “You said I was nice a minute ago.”

  “Well, you’re being horrible now.”

  “Sorry,” I apologise, finding myself floating well clear of the black hole, because she’s smiling again. “Now, why don’t you take me to your dance?”

  I can’t believe I just asked her. I mean, I thought about it, just for a second like, but I never meant to say it out loud; and now I feel like a right knob, because Tammy isn’t like the girls I go with, who drink pints and screw around. Tammy’s different – she’s got class.

  “You’d go with me?” She sounds like she’s having difficulty believing me.

  I shrug, playing it cool, and even though I wish I’d never asked her, I’m crapping myself in case she says no. “Yeah, it’ll be a laugh, and at the end of the night, you can tell your mates you dumped me because....” I try to think of a plausible excuse, which doesn’t take me long because girls are always dumping me. “Because... I hit on someone else.”

  “No one would ever believe you’d go out with me.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with me?”

  “Nothing,” she stammers, going all red in the face. “It’s just, guys like you don’t...”

  “Don’t what?” I ask confused.

  “Don’t normally want to go out with girls like me,” she mumbles into her lap.

  “Because I’m not posh – I get it!”

  “No,” she gasps. “I mean, you’re... you know...”

  I shake my head, seriously confused. “So d’you want to go with me or not?”

  “Yes,” she replies in a small voice. “Yes, please.”

  I’ve never had a girl sound so happy at spending any time with me, and it makes me smile. “You better tell me what my name’s supposed to be.”

  “Ralph,” she mutters.

  I cringe. What sort of name is Ralph? “I’m not being called Ralph for no one – you can tell your mates you left Ralph for me. Now where did we meet?”

  “I told them we met online.” She takes another sip of brandy, and I notice that her hands are shaking again.

  “Fair enough,” I say. “You on Skout?”

  She shakes her head and is talking so quietly I’m forced to lean forward as she says, “Mummy doesn’t let me. She monitors everything. But do you know what?”

  I’m beginning to think I’m imagining all of this, but I’m not that drunk unfortunately. “What?”

  “She doesn’t realise you can chat on Goodreads.”

  “What’s Goodreads?”

  “It’s an online forum discussing books,” she explains. “I run the Trudy Kensington Fan Group.”

  I nod, unsure what to say to this big revelation. “Don’t really read much.”

  “I’ve got thousands in my group,” she continues. “So don’t tell me it’s weird or sad to like reading.”

  “I weren’t going to,” I protest. “Making up boyfriends is weird. Reading isn’t. Now are you going to take me to your dance or what?”

  Her eyes lose some of their sparkle. “You’d really go with me?”

  “Said I would.”

  My fingers brush against hers, and I feel this little jolt inside my stomach as I gaze into her smiling eyes. She’s not my usual type. She’s nice, and there’s something about her...

  “Shall we go?”

  “You’re not going anywhere with her, mate!” says a gruff voice.

  I freeze as this monster-sized hand clamps down on my shoulder, and I find myself staring into the square jaw of one really pissed-off-looking bloke in a grey suit. I think this must be Dave – the driver.

  Saturday 8:30 p.m.

  Tammy

  “Dave, what are you doing here?”

  Dave’s eyes are wild. I’ve never seen him like this before – he’s usually so chillaxed.

  “I was parked outside waiting for you!” Dave snaps. “Now get in the car, young lady. I’m taking you home right now!”

  “Are you going to let this tosser talk to you like that?” Gary demands.

  “What did you call me?” Dave snarls.

  “A tosser,” says Gary, getting to his feet and glaring at Dave.

  My heart’s pounding from the terror of the two of them fighting in here.

  “I’d keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you,” Dave snarls, shoving Gary out of the way. “Or I’ll give you what for!”

  Anger explodes in Gary’s eyes, and they turn into black storm clouds of hate.

  “STOP IT!” I cry.

  Dave lowers his arm first, but he’s not happy. “Does your mother know you’re seeing this punk?”

  I scream through my clenched teeth. I couldn’t believe Gary was going to take me to the dance. I couldn’t believe someone so hot was going to be my boyfriend for the whole night, and now Dave’s going to ruin everything.

  “It’s no business of yours what I do!” I snap. “You’re just paid to drive me!”

  Gary laughs, and his face becomes one smug grin, making him look a million times hotter.

  “You think that’s funny, do you, mate?” Ignoring me, Dave turns on Gary. “I may be a driver, but at least I know how to treat a girl!”

  “What?” The smile dissolves from Gary’s face, and he looks as hurt as he does confused. “What did I do?”

  I am as clueless as Gary until I catch sight of our reflections in the mirror that’s hung over the fireplace. Gary’s black jeans and T-shirt are beyond scruffy, he’s got dragons and serpents tattooed up his arm, and his left eye is turning purple. He looks like a right thug, and as for me, I’m vampire white with puffy red eyes to match – not a good look.

  “Nothing!” I say, conscious everyone in the pub is watching us. “Gary didn’t do anything!”

  “Is HE the reason you went running off in tears?”

  I shake my head. I can’t believe it. It’s all going to come out in here – right in the middle of the pub! Oh god, all I need now is for Carrie and the others to turn up, and my worst nightmare is complete! I take a deep breath and another one, because I’m still shaking all over. Chewing on my upper lip, I prepare to tell Dave everything when Gary saves me again.

  “It’s my fault,” Gary says, taking a step back. “I didn’t get her text, and by the time I got here...... but it’s all sorted now, isn’t it, Tammy?”

  I’m left speechless, and so is Dave. I was so sure Gary would use this as an excuse to make his getaway.

  “You’re taking Tamara to her dance?” Dave is talking in block capitals like he doesn’t quite believe it.

  “Yeah, what of it?”

  “They won’t let you in,” Dave growls. “It’s black tie!”

  His words knock all the happiness out of me. I was so close, so close to having everything I ever wanted. Oh, why is life so unfair?

  “You mean black suit and tie,” says Gary.

  I nod.

  “No problem. I used to work at one of those fancy hotels. Got the suit back at home.”

  “Great,” I say, my heart beating faster from a terrified kind of thrill. “Dave can drive us.”

  As soon as we’re in the back of the car, I raise the privacy shield so Gary and I are free to talk. Dave is
n’t happy, but I don’t care. He’s got no right talking to me like that.

  “Aren’t you going to get in trouble with your girlfriend?” I ask, watching Gary run his fingers all over the white leather seats before he starts playing with the TV controller.

  “Don’t have a girlfriend,” he answers, flicking between TV channels.

  My heart somersaults, and once again I have to remind myself this is just pretend. “What are you going to tell your parents when they ask you what happened to your eye?”

  He looks at me like I’m mad. “I don’t live with my parents. I live with my mate Bill, and if he was here now, he’d give me another black eye.”

  He talks about fighting in the same way you talk about going shopping, like it’s no big deal, and I don’t know why, but it makes me feel sorry for him. “You at university?”

  “Nah,” he answers, checking his mobile again. “Had to put it off a couple of years.”

  “Why?”

  He just shakes his head and starts mucking about with the air conditioning. Anyone would think he’s never been in a car before.

  “So what do you do?” I ask.

  “Stack shelves down the local supermarket.”

  I’m desperate to know everything about him, but he’s retreated behind some barrier, and just because it’s invisible doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

  “You think I’m a loser,” he says, all accusing. “I’m not always going to be stacking shelves, you know – I’ve still got my place at Brunel.”

  “Brunel,” I exclaim. “Doing what?”

  “Fine art,” he replies.

  “You must be really good,” I say, wishing he’d stop being so defensive.

  “Yeah, I am.” He doesn’t sound angry anymore, just sad. “So what do you like doing apart from reading and making up boyfriends?”

  Even though he’s mocking me, he makes me smile.

  “So, anything else I should know before I meet your mates?” he asks. “Like how long we’ve been going out?”

  “The only thing they know is I met you online.”

  “So this is the first time we’ve met?”

  I nod.

  “So I’ve not kissed you yet?”

  “No,” I reply, feeling myself heating up under his intense gaze.

  “Can I?”

  I swallow. I know he’s just mucking around, but when no one ever looks at you like that, you grab hold of all those magic moments and relive them over and over again, and I’m still gazing into his gorgeous eyes when the car stops and Dave ruins everything.

  “We’re here!” says Dave over the intercom.

  The moment’s lost forever. Gary sits up. “Back in five,” he promises, and I watch him disappear inside this tiny brick house with a neat yellow door, squashed between two equally poky houses with the same white net curtains.

  I take out my mobile to take a picture of his house before I realise I’m getting carried away again. Nice as Gary is, the only reason he’s taking me to the dance is because he feels sorry for me after those thugs...

  I shudder as I relive their hands mauling me. But I’m ripped from the terror when Gary emerges from behind the painted yellow door in a black suit and bow tie with his hair all slicked back...

  OMG, I’ve just realised who he looks like. Grabbing my book, I check the front cover just to be sure. He does. He looks exactly like Ralph Forrester, only he’s a million times hotter!

  * * *

  For the first time in my life, I know what it’s like to be Carrie when I step into the grand ballroom on Gary’s arm. I can almost hear the gasps over the music as everyone turns to look at us, and the thrill makes me tremble. I turn to look at Gary again, just to make sure I’m not imagining things and this guy who’s a living, breathing Ralph Forrester is really here with me. And he is. With a cushion of air under my feet, I make my grand entrance.

  “All right?” Gary asks, looking down at me.

  I nod. How can I not be all right with him next to me? Every girl’s jealous of me! Rachael looks like she’s got a gobstopper lodged in her throat. I bet she was telling everyone that I wouldn’t be coming and I’d made Ralph up. Well.... I hope she chokes on her words now. And Gary’s a million times hotter than her date Morgan Banks, with his overbite and curly blond hair.

  Unfortunately, I don’t get any time to gloat or download any more essential information on poor Gary before Carrie comes rushing over.

  “Tammy, where have you been?”

  I have to keep reminding myself that the only reason she’s pretending to care is because she’s checking out Gary.

  “I texted you a million times… Why didn’t you get back to me?”

  I open my mouth to answer her, but she’s not interested in anything I’ve got to say.

  “Hi.” Looking even more like a Barbie doll in a pink halter-neck dress and her blond hair in waves, she fixes her perfectly made-up eyes on Gary. “I’m Carrie. You must be Ralph.”

  “Gary,” Gary corrects her, slipping his arm around my waist.

  I don’t believe it. Gary totally blew out Carrie Hamilton-Smith – for me!

  “Oh,” Carrie stammers, looking back to me. “I thought...”

  “Things didn’t work out with Ralph.” I sigh, trying to stay true to my promise not to lie.

  Carrie nods, but I can tell from her wrinkled forehead she’s not entirely convinced, especially when she notices the mud scuff on my dress. “And everything’s okay?”

  “Fine,” I mumble, feeling the first pangs of panic as I move my hand to cover a grass stain.

  “So where were you?” Carrie asks.

  She knows something’s up, I can tell. If I broadcast everything all over Twitter, I couldn’t make it any more obvious. Luckily for me, Gary’s as fast talking as he is gorgeous.

  “We kind of lost track of time,” Gary explains, giving me a squeeze. “Didn’t we?”

  I feel myself blush when I realise what he is and isn’t saying.

  “Well, you’re here now,” Carrie says, glancing at Rachael, who’s still spying on us from the balcony. “Come and sit with us. I saved a seat for you.”

  All the wishes I ever made are coming true.

  “Everyone’s here,” she tells me. “And you’ll never guess what.”

  “What?” I ask, getting caught up in the excitement of being the centre of attention.

  “Sue turned up with Paul Dexter!”

  “Who?”

  “The cute tennis coach,” Carrie continues, like I’m supposed to know all this when she’s been ignoring me for years. “She’s been seeing him for over a month and never said a word to any of us. Can you believe it?”

  Gary doesn’t say a word as I drag him behind me. He keeps looking at the strangest of things: the chandeliers, the ice sculptures, even the flower displays. He doesn’t even seem to notice every girl’s drooling over him! I do, and it’s great. I’m officially here with the hottest guy in the world, and we’re going to sit with the who’s who of Westmore College, and if I don’t mess things up, I’ll be one of them by the end of the night!

  Saturday 10:00 p.m.

  Gary

  I wish we’d stayed in the pub. At least we could talk, have a laugh. Here, when I’m not being paraded around like some prized poodle, I’ve got to listen to these spoilt rich kids moaning about how boring some place in France is. I’d give anything to go to France. I’d also give anything to stop Tammy making a complete arse of herself trying to suck up to these stupid bitches who, according to her, are the coolest of the cool.

  “So Gary,” says the girl in the green dress, I think her name is Rachael. “How did you get the eye?”

  “I was born with it.” I’m prepared to be bored so Tammy has a good night, but I’m not going to have some rich cow rip the piss out of me.

  “Very amusing,” says her bloke, taking a sip of some non-alcoholic cocktail (no booze allowed outside the bar).

  “Yeah, we can be funny where I come from to
o.” I put my arm around Tammy and try not to look too pissed off.

  “You get it playing rugby?” the Rachael girl asks me.

  “No, I got it beating the crap out of two arseholes.” There, that stopped all the questions, and I drift off again whilst some guy who looks like a horse talks about playing polo.

  God I’m bored, so bored I’d rather be stacking shelves on night shift, and while no one’s looking, I take a quick swig of vodka before my brain seizes up.

  “You should bring Gary to the tennis club next Saturday,” Rachael, the anorexic bitch in green, says to Tammy. “They’ve got a guest DJ for the garden party, and he’s just to die for!”

  “I don’t play tennis,” I tell them, and just to make sure we don’t get any more invites, I add, “And even if I did, some of us have to work!”

  I look at Tammy to check I’ve said the right thing, but she looks really pissed.

  “Perhaps we can do something else?” I say, remembering the only reason I’m here is to play the part of her bloke. “Just you and me.”

  She smiles again, and not for the first time, I find myself wishing this wasn’t pretend. But the only reason she looks at me like that is because I pulled them two thugs off her. She’d never look at the real me like that. The real me who drinks too much and put Jack in hospital. I check my mobile again – still nothing from Bill.

  “Everything okay?” she asks.

  She touches my arm, and I tingle with pleasure. “Yeah. You want another drink?”

  She nods, and we get ourselves a couple of oranges, and before she suggests walking around the dance floor again, I lead her outside so I can have a smoke.

  “You hate it here, don’t you?” she says, hugging herself.

  “Sorry.” I take a deep drag and look longingly at the other bar, the bar I could be in getting smashed on free beer, whiskey, or anything else I want if I ditched Tammy. “Not really my scene. Are you having fun?”

  “Yes. I can’t believe how well I’m getting on with Carrie and the others! I’ve never been so popular.”

  I smile. Who am I to crush her by telling her those girls are just playing with her?

  “Do you think they suspect we’re not going out?”