I snapped my wallet shut and tucked it away in my polka-dotted handbag.
"Thanks," I smiled at the shop assistant.
"Have a lovely day," she said. Again. I hated that awkward moment after you've paid and have to put your change back in your wallet and collect your bag. Longest and most awkward recurring ten seconds of my life, not made easier by the fact that my handbag strap keeps falling off. At every single store I fumble at the cash register, forming an impatient queue behind me. Damn my clumsiness.
I swung out of the shop, not daring to look back at the angry mob I was sure was materialising behind me. Right: shoes, done; skirt, done; lunch? Always.
I scooted over to the escalator descending into the food court, and oh my stars was it amazing. Thank god I have a perpetual appetite, I thought to myself as I passed the wonders of a Chinese, a Mexican and an Indian crammed shoulder to shoulder. I get way too excited about food. Choose one and then leave before your finances are depleted and you have to buy a larger-sized skirt.
Pork bun in hand, I sped to the escalator, blocking my mind from the tantalising aromas tickling my senses.
Good Chinese food. I spotted a bin and tossed my rubbish at it as I passed. Thank god it went in. I hate the walk of shame.
"Sorry, you dropped this," a mellow voice said from behind me.
I turned around and looked up – a pastime I don't usually participate in given I'm taller than almost everyone I know. In front of me stood a boy with dirty blond hair and blue eyes glowing with self-confidence, smiling at me with half his mouth. He held out a rectangle of paper.
"That's not mine," I said, glancing at the boy. His dancing eyes met my confused, grey ones.
"Oh, I think it is," he said, pressing the piece of paper in my hand. "It's my phone number," he murmured, winking at me before swaggering off.
I glanced down at the slip of paper, too stunned to read it at first. When I finally managed to grasp the quite new concept that an exceptionally cute boy had given me his number of his own free will, I read the rounded scrawl on the card. Victor, it said, followed by ten digits.
*O*O*O*O*O*O*O*
"Mate, that was awesome!"
"See Alfie? Not so difficult at all. Now all we have to do is wait for her to ring Victor…along with the thirty other girls we've given his number to."
"He is gonna freak," Alfie laughed.
"It's what comes from being so good looking," Jerome said. "You know that girls will call any number you give them. It's a responsibility as well as a gift. Thank god I'm not nearly responsible enough to be trusted with it, or else there'd be no fun in this world."
Alfie shook his head. "You're a self-obsessed arse," he smirked. "I hope you know that."
"Oh, I do. And I am very talented at using it to my own advantage. Now ladies," he said, motioning at the invisible crowd of simpering girls in front of him, "form an orderly line."
