Читать книгу Cloudy with a Chance of Love: The unmissable laugh-out-loud read - Fiona Collins, Fiona Collins, Sylvie Hampton - Страница 15

Chapter Seven

People shuffled on the dancefloor to Take That. Bruno Mars was swaying in the centre, his eyes closed. Ozzy had struck lucky, he had his arms round a giggling Ginger Spice, complete with Union Jack dress, and was singing in the poor woman’s ear. Elton was grappling with Britney. And there was Sam, jiggling like Olivia Newton-John at the end of Grease and swigging from a glass of something that must hold at least four hundred calories. It would be a manic burst of sit ups and a set of burpees before bed tonight for her, I knew, but I was happy she was enjoying herself. I smiled as I watched her; we could stay for a bit longer. And I was very happy that I wasn’t counting calories. Food was coming round now on trays carried by Jedward. I grabbed a duck wrap and dipped it into plum sauce; all this unsuccessful dating had made me ravenous.

There was a bench up against the side of the room. I plonked myself on it, polished off the duck wrap and then eased my shoe off my right foot.

‘I’d put that away, if I were you. You never know if there are foot fetishists in tonight.’

I stuffed my foot back in my shoe, mortified. Of course I was wearing my customary ruby red nail varnish but my foot looked all pinched and a bit swollen. It was autumn, my feet were not supposed to be out on display.

‘Well, I certainly don’t want to give anyone any fodder,’ I said, looking up. ‘There’s probably all sorts in here.’

I found myself looking into a pair of very green eyes under a curtain of tousled, curly-ish blonde hair. There was a man sitting next to me – a smile on his face, a beer in his hand. My first thought was ‘young farmer’. My second was that he looked like a boy in a man’s body. He looked… cheeky. Like a kind of grown-up, very good looking version of the Milky Bar Kid.