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Here is chapter three. Enjoy...

I woke up this morning thinking, "ah, Wednesday...the week's half over," in that way we are all guilty of. You know, when you're really longing for the weekend to hurry up and get here.

Then I remembered last night's phone call. I have two days in which to find a man willing enough (and crazy enough) to be my date for Mum and Dad's dinner.

Although it's a bit worse than that, isn't it? I claimed I'd be bringing a new boyfriend. At least if I'd said 'date' I could have turned up with anyone and brushed off a few intrusive questions.

Anyway, my point is that the moment I reminded myself of my dilemma, my day was set to be a bad one.

The bus was late again (and again, my new neighbour wasn't driving it); and then every time a guy came into the salon for a haircut today I found myself analysing them.

No, really, I did.

I kept up my stylists' front; making general polite, professional conversation, all the while secretly wondering whether I might be brave enough to...well, ask one of them out.

I know; I've gone mental.

I don't think I was ever actually going to do it. How would that have gone, exactly?

"That's your hair all done, sir. Now, fancy escorting me to a dinner party on Friday night at my parents' house?"

But what other choice have I left myself? I'm not phoning mum back to tell her I'm a sad pathetic liar.

God, this is embarrassing. I may have to phone someone for help...

Maybe Dani would be the best choice, seen as she was the one to suggest this pretence in the first place. I'm sure that the idea of actually producing a fake boyfriend out of thin air wasn't quite what she meant, though.

I think I need some wine before I pick up the phone for confession time...

.HSM.

Well, Dani must be off out somewhere with her husband, because there was no answer when I rang.

So, before I could tell myself I might regret it; I dialled Sharpay's number instead.

"Oh, my God, Gabs," she announced into the phone after a brief fit of laughter that had been expected. "The messes you get yourself into. So what are you gonna do?"

"Who knows? I was hoping you might, though," I replied glumly.

She was unusually quiet on the line and I didn't know what was going through her mind – other than the obvious fact that I am a first class moron, I expect.

Finally she let out a breath to speak again. "What about that dishy new neighbour you told me about?"

Call me clueless, but I didn't catch on. "You mean Troy? What about him?"

Shar simply sighed at me. "Ask him," was all she said back.

Why did I not think of that before? Like earlier on when I was staring at potential candidates at work?

I mean, Troy is at least somebody I've met before. He even lives in my building!

The only thing I can say in defence of my own stupidity is that I think I was blinded by my previous thoughts of him. Asking him just hadn't crossed my mind. When you meet someone you like, you don't want to scare them off by asking them to do you a favour like this, do you? Because it's not a favour that's in the same league as, say, passing along the landlord's phone number.

This was what I was pondering over on the phone, while Sharpay was clearly waiting for me to gush with gratitude at her brilliant idea.

As it was, all I said back was, "I can't."

"Why not?" she asked bluntly. "You know him; you like him..."

"When did I say I liked him?" I shot back suspiciously, and she laughed.

"Well, you didn't. But you did tell me he was gorgeous."

I didn't remember saying that, either. My silence told her exactly what I'd been thinking.

"If you didn't say that much, then how would I know to call him 'dishy' just now?" she asked coyly.

I'd just assumed she was guessing, I suppose. But apparently I must have unconsciously confessed my attraction to Troy at some point in the last few days.

Troy, my new neighbour. Troy, who I've only ever seen twice in my life and only really spoken to for a total of five minutes. Maybe I'm basing my opinion of him purely on his looks?

He really seemed quite lovely, though...

Anyway, I didn't give Sharpay an answer to her latest question; leaving her to very smugly keep on with her suggestion.

"So then, isn't it better to take this Troy along on Friday night? It would only be half a lie to tell, that way. You wouldn't be lying about fancying him..."

I groaned out loud. "Shar, that just makes me sound like a teenager with a crush! Besides, I honestly think it'd be worse if I asked him to come with me."

"Why?"

"Because I barely know him! He'll think I'm a nutter," I sighed.

Sharpay pretended to think this statement over for a bit. "Hmm, well you have told your mum you've got a new man when you haven't, so maybe you are a nutter. But these things can be fixed, Gabs. I'm not saying you should just walk up to him and randomly ask him out. Get chatting to him between now and Friday. See what happens."

"You mean lure him into liking me, only to use him for my own gains when I drag him to my parents' torturous dinner?" That sounded like a more accurate description to me. And there's no way I'd treat someone like that.

And not just because I actually happen to like Troy.

"God Gabi, it sounds terrible when you put it like that! I didn't mean you should use him, you know. Just that you could get to know him, ask him to do you a favour...and then go out with him for real later on!"

Ridiculous. I could never hope for a plan like that to work out well. Nobody starts out a potential relationship by introducing the man to her parents!

He'd run a mile after spending half an hour with mine, anyway.

I relayed all this to Sharpay before I hung up, but she just kept telling me to think about it.

I think I've had enough advice for one night. I need to get some sleep before my head explodes.

And I didn't even get past half a glass of wine, so I know that's not the reason my mind feels the way it does right now.

.HSM.

It turns out my head wasn't just aching with too many thoughts going on up there. It's 6am and I've woken up to a pounding headache. I'm glad I didn't get a chance to polish off that wine last night, otherwise I'd be nursing a guilty hangover.

Okay. I just stood up to grab a painkiller, and now I feel even worse. Walking around made me feel dizzy. I'm going to have to call Dani. Maybe one of the other girls will be able to take my clients for the day...

Right. That's done. Dani was absolutely fine on the phone (I didn't bother telling her I'd called last night. Glad I didn't leave a message).

I hate calling in sick, though, even when the boss is a friend of mine. But I haven't felt this ill in while and I haven't taken a day off in even longer, so I don't know why I'm worrying about it.

If anything, this could work out in my favour. Can't go to Mum and Dad's dinner party in this state, now can I?

Sorry about that, mother.

Ouch...laughing triumphantly to myself wasn't the best idea. That really hurt my head.

I can't enjoy having my dilemma solved for me, anyway. Feeling too terrible even to move...

Oh stop thinking so much, Gabriella. Go back to sleep!

.HSM.

Just woken up again and it's almost midday. Headache seems to be gone now.

This is good for the sake of being pain-free...not so good in terms of getting out of tomorrow's dinner.

Oh God. That's tomorrow.

Probably shouldn't think about it for now. It might make the headache come back.

I need to eat something, then maybe I'll see if I can make it into work for the rest of the day.

I know, I'm mad. I must be the only person in the world who won't go through with a sick day.

...Or at least tries not to. Just sent Dani a text to tell her I'm feeling better and might come in after all. This is what her reply said:

Don't even think about it. You sounded awful this morning. You're having the whole day off to rest, no arguments! D. x

Bless her. More concerned with my well-being than with the fact that my absence has left her short-staffed.

What to do now, though? In the traditional manner of an ill person, I have just eaten some soup.

As a result I now have some energy to spare. Hmm...

God, the flat's a mess. That's it, I'm getting the bin bags out to do a clear out. There's so much rubbish that I don't need around here. I just need to remember not to put important items in new places, as Monday morning demonstrated that this was a bad idea.

I am fully aware that this latest thought process depicts me as a sad person. I've been told to relax, yet here I am about to clean my flat.

But it takes my mind off of certain issues, such as events I have promised to go to.

Because I've tried declining one of my mother's invitations through illness before. She's not stupid. There's a good chance she'd even come over and take my temperature herself before accepting that I was indeed too unwell to come to dinner.

.HSM.

Right, so I now have to lug two heavy bags full of rubbish and generally unwanted crap all the way downstairs to get to the skip.

Did not think this through.

Going to work would have been easier by far.

Okay, I've reached the top of the stairs. Here we go...

"Arrrgh!" Well done, Gabi. You've just tripped over your own feet.

And yet the bags of rubbish are still intact. I'm just lucky the first half of the staircase only consists of about three steps. I've landed in an untidy heap in the corner.

"Hey, you okay down there?" someone's just shouted.

Fantastic. An audience.

"Um...yeah, I think so..." I really ought to try and move if I want to prove my words to be true. I can hear footsteps coming closer now, but I haven't yet moved my head in their direction to see who they belong to.

"Gabi?"

Oh no. It's Troy. What a lovely third meeting this will be...

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