The Booby Trap and Other Bits and Boobs by Dawn O'Porter Page A

black V-neck sweater that fitted properly with a little felt corsage pinned to her shoulder and a pair of jeans that didn’t give her a mum bum. And game on, because Cardigan Boy was looking at Rosie in exactly the same way that he’d looked at his Tropical Fruits sundae. Mind you, he’d looked at her like that pre-makeover too.
    â€˜I hope this doesn’t sound sketchy, but I’ve got something for you,’ he said nervously, reaching into the inner depths of his anorak while Rosie looked intrigued but nervous, because Cardigan Boy was coming over all stalker-y. ‘I saw you reading
Bonjour Tristesse
, and then the other day I found this in a charity shop.You’ve probably already got it, but the cover’s really cool.’
    He pulled out a mouldy paperback, its pages tinged yellow. Rosie took it and turned it over carefully like it was some holy relic, as I squinted over her shoulder to see the book title:
To Esme, With Love And Squalor.
What
ever
. But Rosie’s face lit up and in that split second she was so beautiful that it made me blink rapidly until she looked like she usually did.
    â€˜That’s so weird, this is on my to-buy list,’ she said. ‘And I love old editions of books. If I really like the book, it makes me kinda sad that they gave it away. Do you know what I mean?’
    Cardigan Boy knew exactly what she meant. ‘I have this hardback of
The Collectible Dorothy Parker
from the 1940s that I found in Cancer Research. Why would someone get rid of that?’
    It was all very well bonding over books but they still weren’t getting the basics sorted. Not unless I did it for them. ‘I’m Cath, this is Rosie and you are … ?’
    â€˜David,’ Cardigan Boy said. ‘Never Dave or Davy or Id.’
    And Rosie totally laughed, even though it was the lamest joke I’d ever heard. It was adorable in the dorkiest, geekiest way possible.
    How was I going to get Rosie and David away from ice cream and on an actual date? I needed to try to fathom out the geek mindset but, God, that was so hard. Then on Tuesday Rosie was banging on about her latest boring book while I was flicking through the local paper and I had such a genius idea that I almost fell headfirst into the strawberry ice cream that I’d left out on the counter to soften.
    When David finally came in, I elbowed Rosie out of the way, so I could get to him first. We went through the usual sundae business while he cast longing glances in Rosie’s direction, then I moved in for the kill.
    â€˜Hey, have you ever read
The Great Gatsby
?’ It was a perfectly natural question for me to ask so there was no need for him to smirk.
    â€˜It’s one of my favourite books,’ he replied and Rosie opened her mouth to start wordgasming about it too but I rustled the paper as a diversionary tactic.
    â€˜You know they made a non-musical film of it ages ago, right? It’s playing at the Rep Cinema tonight.’
    â€˜I’ve always wanted to see it,’ David enthused, walking into the clever trap I’d set and making himself right at home.
    â€˜Really?’ I smiled sweetly at Rosie whose eyes were promising a little light torture. ‘Rosie’s dying to see it too but she hasn’t got anyone to go with. I refuse to watch any film that wasn’t made this century.’
    If David paused for longer than five seconds I was going to brain him with a box of Cornettos, but he was already turning to Rosie with a casual smile that I knew masked the fear of rejection. ‘You probably already have plans, but if you fancy going with me … ?’ He tailed off and stared down at his Jack Purcells. Which was just as well because Rosie was doing a good impression of a slack-jawed yokel.
    â€˜Um, if you don’t mind, I guess that would be er, like all right,’ she muttered.
    â€˜No, I don’t mind. If you’re sure you don’t …