It's Got to Be Perfect: the memoirs of a modern-day matchmaker by Haley Hill Page A

seen.
    ‘I’m Nick,’ he said. ‘Mind if I join you?’
    I shuffled up the sofa, eyeing him suspiciously.
    ‘So you’re the brains behind all this then?’
    I nodded. ‘Though this is not quite what I had in mind.’
    He looked around the room and smiled. ‘What were you expecting?’
    ‘I don’t know … a little more self-restraint.’
    He laughed. ‘If you put kids in a candy shop …’ He nodded in the direction of a man, whose hand was emerging from a short denim skirt ‘… they get sticky fingers.’
    I rolled my eyes while he laughed heartily at his own joke.
    ‘And, you?’ I asked. ‘Haven’t you found a florist to dry-hump or a sticky place to put your fingers?’
    He shook his head, ‘There’s only one girl who caught my eye.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘She seems to have a bit of an attitude problem.’
    Before I could stop it, a smile crept across my face.
    ‘I knew you’d crack eventually,’ he said, his hand skimming mine as he reached for his drink. A tingle shot up my arm and then a flash of white light ripped through the bar. I looked up, my eyes squinting against the neon beams, as though abruptly awoken from a dream. The music stopped and voices hushed.
    ‘Time, everyone,’ Steve announced. ‘Bar’s closing.’
    The light shone down on us and when Nick looked at me, it was with such intensity that I suddenly felt as though a spotlight were on me, exposing every pore, every blemish and every scar that I’d hoped to conceal. A surge of panic raced through my nerves and I jumped up from my seat, mumbling something incoherent about needing to help clean up and then walked away.
    Without the comforting canopy of candlelight, the crudeness of reality was unveiled. The guests clambered to their feet and wiped their lipstick-smudged faces as though desperate to reclaim some dignity. From a hidden alcove, I watched the guests leave. My eyes tracked Nick as he sauntered up the stairs, my stomach tightening when I noticed a leggy brunette tottering after him. When I saw him smile at her, the smile that I’d secretly hoped he’d reserved for me, the electricity tripped and the room was plunged back into darkness.
    By the time Steve had flipped the fuse, the bar had emptied out. I slumped back down on my seat. Only a few hours earlier, before the guests arrived, the atmosphere had seemed charged and full of anticipation, but now it felt as flat as a collapsed lung. The flowers had wilted, with their stems drooping and petals curled. The candles had withered down to useless stumps, droplets of wax eating away at the polished veneer. Beside them, stood smeared glasses containing fluids mixed and merged. Beneath the tables, trampled cherries bled into the carpet.
    ‘Imagine all the shagging that’s going on tonight, thanks to you!’ Caro said as we shared a taxi home.
    ‘There might be a little baby being made as we speak,’ Cordelia joked.
    I huffed. ‘That’s not how it’s supposed to work. I was hoping for blossoming love not rampant sex.’
    ‘Don’t the two go hand in hand?’ Caro answered.
    ‘I’d settle for rampant sex,’ Cordelia chipped in.
    ‘Rampant rabbit for me tonight,’ Caro said before curling her bottom lip. ‘Not quite RAF pilot. But…’ She paused, retrieving a damp piece of paper from her cleavage ‘… I got their numbers!’
    ‘Anyway, what about you, Ellie?’ Cordelia asked. ‘That cute guy you were chatting to – what happened there? He looked gutted when you walked off.’
    ‘Yes, he was cute but …’
    ‘He had a cute butt, I saw.’
    ‘Caro, stop it,’ Cordelia interrupted and looked back at me. ‘But what?’
    ‘But I don’t have time for a relationship at the moment. I’m concentrating on other things.’
    ‘That’s such a load of rubbish!’ Cordelia said waving her arms around. ‘You haven’t had a relationship since …’
    She paused, placing her hands back on her lap.
    ‘You can mention it, you know. I’m not going to break down