Love Cosmo? Become a Fan!
|
Exclusive extract: Playing the Field, by Zoe Foster
As you probably know by now, our former beauty editor, Zoe Foster, is quite the talented lass. When she's not dispensing dating advice with Hamish Blake (Textbook Romance) or beauty tips at Primped.com.au, she's penning witty chick lit novels. Her latest, Playing the Field, is on sale now...and we've got an exlcusive sneak peek for you.
ROUND 1
Spilled Drinks vs Providence Inc.
I turned from the bar and prepared to navigate my way through the mass of heaving, loud, beautiful people to our seats in the courtyard. I was doing a brilliant job, nursing the drinks to my chest and caving my shoulders to protect them, until I was knocked from behind. Half of each drink went fly-ing onto the back of the guy unlucky enough to be standing in front of me.
‘Oh, shit, shit, sorry, shit!’ I said, trying to grip the now-slimy glasses.
He turned slowly around. With my hands full and covered in vodka, I was unable to do anything but offer what I hoped was a sincere apology via my eyes. His mouth was open and his fingers were pulling his shirt out from his substantially wet back. And somewhere high above, God was high-fiving someone on his incredible handiwork.
Deep blue sparkling eyes set against an olive backdrop, and a warm, mischievous smile housing a set of fluorescent white teeth. Quite tall with dark, dark brown hair, longish and floppy and tucked behind his ears in that sexy, European Underweary Model way. A rugged growth around his mouth and cheeks – the kind you don’t notice unless you’re forced to write a de-scription of it in a book. In short, a twenty-first-century Adonis.
He raised an eyebrow and his smile widened. We locked eyes, and for a few charged seconds the music, the floor and the pulsing liquor-friends surrounding us went out of focus, leaving only him, and me, and 4000 kilowatts of electricity. I couldn’t lift my feet, shift my eyes away from his, or mute the chorus of one thousand visually stimulated brain cells collec-tively applauding in my head.
‘That’s one way to offer me a drink,’ he said good-naturedly, shaking his shirt out but not taking his eyes off me.
‘I’m so sorry. I - I was pushed,’ I said, wincing at how wet he was. At the same moment, I was jolted again from behind, and launched forward from the waist up.
‘Noted and forgiven,’ he said, smiling cheekily.
‘Okay, uh, sorry again about your shirt,’ I offered a weak smile and made to move away.
‘Could I buy you a replacement?’ he said quickly, a verbal hand on the wrist to stop me walking away.
‘Well, that makes no sense,’ I said, laughing and shaking my head. He was staring at me with his eyebrows up and a smile no one with a pulse could resist. ‘But thank you.’ I smiled sweetly, blushing, and turned to walk.
‘It makes sense in that you wouldn’t be getting away so fast,’ he said in a singsong voice with his palms outstretched, as if to say: Am I right, or am I right?
‘Really, it’s fine,’ I said, my brain throwing a spanner at my vocal chords for passing up the opportunity. I flashed him another dazzly smile and disappeared mysteriously into the crowd.
‘Hey, wait – I didn’t catch your name,’ I heard him shout, but I kept walking. We’d need new drinks soon, and I’d be sure to walk past him again. Until then, he could wonder. Well played, Sergeant Seductive, well played.
Click here to read more of Playing the Field, by Zoe Foster.
- Share:
-
Share on Facebook
-
More
|
|