The Problem With Pretending Read Online Emma Hart

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Funny Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 126850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
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That was such a dreadful question out of context.

“Yes,” I replied. “I think I’ll go to the library and see what they’ve got, but I might swing towards the value they bring to society.”

“No wonder you’re struggling. They don’t bring anything, the daft toffs.”

I pressed my lips together. “Granny, I am one of those daft toffs.”

“No, I like you. That means you’re just a toff.”

“You know how to compliment a girl, don’t you?”

She grinned.

I cleared my throat. “You’ve got lipstick on your teeth.”

She ran her tongue across her top teeth enthusiastically before baring them at me again. “Better?”

“All gone,” I replied. “Enjoy your cocktail lunch with your friend.”

Granny glared at me. “Maybe you’d be happier if you had a friend of your own, instead of sniping at me.”

I dropped a kiss on her powdered cheek and grinned. “See you later, Granny. Behave yourself.”

“Never. Life is far more interesting when you misbehave.”

“Okay, fine. Just don’t hurt yourself.”

She nodded. “I’ll agree to that.” She winked and turned around with a flourish, wiggling her fingers goodbye over her shoulder. “Bye, Gracie.”

“Bye, Granny.” I hovered outside the restaurant and waited for her to disappear around the corner, then walked in the opposite direction with a little shake of my head.

Thank God.

It was time for some cheap coffee.

I hurried to the nearest coffee shop and ducked inside just as rain started to fall. It was that horrible misty rain that could soak you through deceptively quickly, and I hoped it was just a shower. I didn’t have a hood on my jacket or an umbrella with me, and I didn’t feel like hauling my heavy bag across town in the rain.

Nor did I want to stay in the coffee shop right before the lunch rush.

This was what happened when I didn’t check the weather forecast.

A shiver ran down my spine, and I shuddered it away as I joined the queue.

As far as queues went, it wasn’t a bad one. It was orderly, calm, and moving relatively quickly. I’d been in worse queues.

And, given that I was British, I was somewhat of an authority on queues.

My initial assessment was proven right when it only took a few minutes for the orders in front of me to be cleared. I ordered a simple coffee to-go, knowing I’d finish it before I reached the library, and went through the motions of paying and moving to the side until my name was called.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, so I pulled it out and checked my messages.

AMBER: He won’t leave me alone.

Uh-oh.

Mr. Accidental Anal was still bugging her.

ME: Have you tried actually saying “I’m sorry but I’m not interested?”

AMBER: No. I don’t want him to think I’m a slut.

ME: You shagged him on the first date.

AMBER: That doesn’t make me a slut!!!!

ME: No, it doesn’t. But it does mean he’s pretty sure it’s going to happen on the second date.

AMBER: Shit.

AMBER: So you’re saying he just wants to bang me?

ME: Probably. I’d imagine it was much better for him than it was for you.

AMBER: Probably. Ugh.

ME: Just tell him you’re not interested.

AMBER: I can’t say that!

ME: Why not?????? You aren’t interested!!!!

AMBER: I already said yes.

I blinked at my phone.

Honestly, Amber was one of the most intelligent people I knew, but she was so, so dumb sometimes.

“Grace!”

I jerked my head up and smiled at the barista who put down my coffee. “Thanks,” I said, taking it. I sidled my way through the crowd, frowning at my phone and hit the box to reply to her.

ME: I don’t even know what to say to you right now.

AMBER: I know. I know. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

ME: Well, then, RIP your arsehole.

AMBER: GRACE

With a quiet chuckle, I hooked my finger around the door handle and pulled it open, bumping it with my hip so I could step outside. It’d stopped raining, so that was a plus.

I turned left in the direction of the library and hit the reply box again.

ME: Past behaviour is the best indicator of future behaviour, so get used to anal.

“Ah!” I squealed it out as I collided with someone right in front of me. My phone slipped out of my grip, and I did some weird ninja move to stop it hitting the pavement and smashing, but my coffee wasn’t quite so lucky.

It was smooshed between me and the stranger. The distinct scent of hot tea mixed with coffee told me I wasn’t the only one who’d been holding a hot drink, and I jumped back as my empty cup clattered to the ground.

“Oh, my God,” I breathed, looking down at my coat. The front of it was covered with a mix of tea and coffee—the only saving grace was the fact it was navy and you couldn’t see it if you didn’t already know.

“I am so sorry,” the guy I’d collided with said. “Oh, fuck, are you all right?”


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