A Story of Now Read Online Free PDF Page A

along the surface. He’s kneeling on a stool, taking snaps of her arm with his camera.
    Claire has absolutely zero idea what they’re doing. And if she wasn’t so busy watching a couple on one of the most awkward dates ever, she’d probably go find out. For now, though, she has something slightly more entertaining to do.
    It’s another quiet weeknight in the bar, and Andrew is upstairs watching TV, so they’re free to work as little as possible, knowing that he won’t pop out of his office at any moment. He’ll turn up at the end of the shift, bleary-eyed and cheerful to count the till and lock up.
    To stave off complete boredom, she polishes a rack of wine glasses as she surreptitiously watches this guy and girl try to make conversation. They turned up forty-five minutes ago, ordered a bottle of red wine, and sat down in the booth. And for forty-five minutes, Claire has watched, enthralled, as they struggle to find something to say. Maybe, if it wasn’t dead tonight, and if the skinny boy wasn’t hogging Nina, this date wouldn’t be quite as fascinating. For now, however, it’s like one of those awful reality shows on late-night TV. Inevitably, she tunes in about halfway through an episode and finds herself idly captured until the end—mostly because she wastes that much time trying to figure out what the hell is going on.
    It took her a little while to figure out this was a first date. The bottle of wine threw her off initially. Claire would never make the mistake of ordering a bottle on a first date. She thought everyone knew to always choose a drink that can be disposed of quickly. That way she can get out fast if she needs to. The bottle had to be the girl’s idea, too, because he’s pawing the glass as if he’s never held anything smaller than a pint glass. Totally classy. The girl fills in the many silences by checking her phone and playing with her hair, while he stares longingly at the group of students drinking beer and watching some sport crap on the TV. Yep, their first mistake was coming here.
    And now Claire is trying to figure out which of them is going to make a break for it first. When Claire went by before, she took her time to wipe down the table next to theirs, and he was talking in this kind of stupefied drawl as though he’s been hit in the head one too many times. Probably a footy player. The girl was politely pretending to be interested, clearly much more socially generous than Claire would ever be. Everything about their interaction, even from this far away, suggests that this date is dead in the water.
    She shakes her head and picks up another glass. She would never let it get this far. If she’s learned one thing, it’s when to cut and leave. Just a few weeks ago, she went out with one of Michelle’s friends. The guy was so congenitally boring that she feigned cramps and left nothing but a Claire-shaped dent in her seat before an hour was up. No point wasting time dancing around the edge of something that she’s already decided is never going to happen in a million years.
    This girl should take a leaf from Claire’s dating book. At least that’s what she’s thinking when the curveball comes. Suddenly, he leans in and says something to the girl. The girl tucks her hair behind her ear, smiles, and nods back at him. Next thing she knows, they pick up their drinks, throw down the last of them, and reach for their belongings. He takes up the half-empty bottle and holds it down low at his side, out of sight. He checks to see if anyone is watching.
    Claire quickly glances away. If they are about to do what she thinks they’re about to do, suggested by the mutual head-nodding, smiling, and drink-downing, she figures they’re going to need as much alcohol as they can get. Who is she to get in their way? Good freaking luck , she thinks as the pub door closes behind them.
    She shakes her head. She didn’t see that one coming. Not one bit.
    Now that her entertainment has departed for