Blowing It Read Online Free PDF

ordered a glass of Bordeaux and Magnus, an
imported Belgian pale ale, and the waiter left us with menus while he went to
fetch the drinks.
    “What’s good here?” I asked, studying the a la
carte menu, all of which looked delicious and wasn’t as pricy as the decor had
led me to believe.
    “I’m a sucker for the fried oysters, and the beef bourguignon
melts in the mouth.” He indicated the dishes. “But everything I’ve ever had
here has been fantastic.”
    “It smells good.” I looked around the busy dining
room, spying on the meals the patrons alongside us were eating. The rich,
savoury scent of the food made my mouth water. “And oh my god, they do pulled
pork as a side!”
    Magnus chuckled. “Whatever you want. This is on
me.”
    I gave him a long look. “Okay,” I agreed. “But only
because I’m paying next time.”
    “Deal.”
    I went with Magnus’s recommendation of oysters to
start, and a Korean-style smoked duck for my main course. Magnus ordered the
oysters as well, the beef for his main, and a side of pulled pork, which I
magnanimously offered to share with him. We drank our drinks and ate hunks of
warm, crusty bread while we waited for the food to arrive, making small talk about
work and the weather.
    He spoke about some of the building sites he was
overseeing, the tradesmen’s gossip, and the nightmare homeowners. I told him about
my second novel, and he solemnly swore not to give away the ending to another
living soul. By the time our plates were clean, and I was draining my second
glass of wine, darkness had fallen, half the tables were empty, and I never wanted
the evening to end.
    “Dessert?” Magnus asked when the waiter reappeared
to clear our table.
    I patted my stomach ruefully. “I don’t think I
could.”
    “I’m going to, so you might as well.”
    I shot him a look. “You’re leading me astray.”
    His answering smile contained more than a hint of promise.
“I certainly hope so.”
    I ordered a rich, creamy tiramisu cannoli with the
perfect amount of bitter bite from the coffee, and Magnus chose caramelised
mandarins served with some sort of mousse. He offered me a piece when it
arrived, and I groaned with appreciation on tasting the sharp, sweet fruit.
    “God, that was delicious,” I said, laying my napkin
on the table. “I have no idea how I’m going to top that next time.”
    “You don’t usually dine out?”
    “Hey, I was an impoverished writer, remember? If I
had the change to go to the chippy once a week, I was doing well.”
    “So you haven’t forgotten your humble roots? Fame
hasn’t gone to your head?” Magnus smiled, keeping his tone light.
    I decided against flippancy for my answer. “Truthfully,
I’m a homebody, at least when it comes to food. Not that I’m a good cook or
anything, but whenever I went out with my friends, it was usually to the pub or
clubbing, rather than eating.”
    “I was never really into the club scene,” Magnus
admitted.
    “I loved it.” I relaxed in my chair, letting my
memories come to the fore. “The thumping music, the smoke and the noise, sweaty
bodies and endless possibility. Ryan and I would get glammed up and dance the
night away.” I laughed. “I was hung over through most of uni.”
    Magnus leant across the table. “Glammed up?” He
raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Define that.”
    I blushed. “I don’t mean drag or anything, but y’ know,
a bit of glitter didn’t go amiss. Maybe some eyeliner….”
    Magnus’s eyes darkened. They were blue, I noted,
but not the pale blue of the summer sky. More the deep steel-grey of stormy
seas. “Really?”
    I nodded.
    “And is that something you still do?”
    “Heh. Not so much anymore.”
    “But you would?”
    I shrugged uneasily. “Sure.”
    He sat back, giving me a contemplative look. “I
think that’s something I’d like to see.”
     
     
     

CHAPTER FOUR
    That Wednesday, I made the half-hour tube journey to
Elm Park, a commuter town to the outlying east