Nothing New for Sophie Drew: a heart-warming romantic comedy by Katey Lovell (best autobiographies to read .txt) 📕

Exposed. That’s how I felt. I felt exposed.

“Wow,” he said finally. His gaze followed me up and down and he pushed his glasses up his nose with his index finger.

My heart quickened in delight at the one-word comment, causing me to become hyper-aware of the rise and fall of my breasts within the low-cut outfit. I felt like a superhero – Catwoman or Batgirl, or some other half-naked heroine – and although the feminist in me hated myself for it, I pushed my shoulders back until the fabric strained against my chest. For a moment I wasn’t sure what was going to pop out first, Max’s eyes or my perky nipples.

“Do you think I should get it?” I asked, although I’d already decided it was coming home with me. It was too much of a bargain to leave behind. Surely even Guy would allow me a little treat for my recent good behaviour (although as I set my sights on the jumpsuit I conveniently blanked out the make-up and the biscuits and the overpriced coffee and cake Kath had coerced me into).

“Absolutely.” Max swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the base of his neck.

“Looks like I have no choice then.” I smiled.

Back in the confines of the changing room the smile became a full-on beam. The jumpsuit was just the confidence boost I needed, and Max’s reaction to it the icing on the cake.

I unzipped the zipper, which was a million times easier than doing the bloody thing up had been, and allowed the outfit to slip off, pooling around my feet. As I slid into my old favourite dress, which I’d been so confident in before, I noticed how plain – how demure – it seemed in comparison to the glamour of the jumpsuit.

Scooping up my belongings, I peeped through the gap in the curtains once more, expecting to find Max still gripped by his book. Instead he was looking in my direction. There was no way he could see more than an inch of me through the crack in the curtain, but that didn’t stop my heart from racing.

As I emerged into the shop, he grinned, and nodding towards the jumpsuit in my hand said, “New outfit for town tonight?”

It didn’t sound like an invitation, but his interest was flattering nonetheless. It had been a while since someone of the opposite sex cared what I was doing on a Saturday night, let alone someone as gorgeous as Max.

“No plans tonight, sadly. I’ll probably stay in and wash my hair with just next door’s cat for company.”

“That’s tragic,” he replied, mock solemnly, “although my night isn’t much more exciting.”

“Oh?”

“I’m going for a drink with my brother but only to the local. He can’t meet until late because my nephew Isaac’s a devil for going to sleep and he won’t let anyone but Grant put him to bed. I’ll be lucky if he gets in much before last orders.”

“Hardly worth going at that time,” I mused. “Unless you can find someone else to join you.”

He cocked his head, a flicker of a smirk playing out on his lips. “Is that an offer?”

“Maybe,” I said coyly, as he rang the programme and the jumpsuit into the till. I searched for my purse in the depths of my bag, and when I found it pulled out a note. “If you’re asking.”

“It’s nothing special, the local,” he said, naming a pub I’d been to before. It’s near one of Tawna’s ex-boyfriend’s houses, although given the amount of exes Tawna has, most pubs in the North East are. “But a band I know are playing there tonight. Don’t decide now, I know I’ve sprung it on you. But I’ll be there from seven.”

“O-kay.” I was surprised to find I was contemplating taking him up on his offer. Then again, I’d not had this instantaneous an attraction to anyone in a long time. Not since Darius, in fact. “Thanks, Max.”

“Perhaps I’ll see you later…”

His voice trailed off, and from the expectant look in his eyes I knew he was waiting for me to tell him my name. “Sophie. Sophie Drew.”

Chapter 6

From the outside, the pub was exactly as I remembered, one of those large cube-like buildings surrounded by a car park. The lack of empty parking bays suggested it was a busy night.

I’d not been to a local pub on a weekend evening for a long time and as I stepped into the baking-hot building the noise hit me like a slap.

People were crammed in and all hope I had of finding Max sat quietly nursing a pint quickly vanished. I’d made the right choice plumping for flat knee-high boots rather than the pair of heels that had also been contenders – I had the feeling we’d be doing a lot of standing, going by the sheer volume of people.

I navigated my way to the bar, apologising every few steps for bumping into someone.

When I reached the polished mahogany counter, debating whether to order a gin and tonic or a glass of white wine, the reason for the crowds became apparent. An ear-piercing wail of an electric guitar caused me to jump back in alarm, a rhythmic drumbeat kicking in behind it as a female vocalist drawled lyrics full of cynicisms. The band was in full swing.

The bartender raised his eyebrows at me, which I took as an invite to place my order. I opted for the house white in the end, thinking it would be the cheaper option. Spirits got expensive when miniature mixtures were involved, and I’d set myself a strict budget. I’d chosen to take the fifty-minute walk from my house to save on bus fare, and although it had been a beautiful day there was a chilly nip in the evening air. After being in the cold for so long the cranked-up heating of the heaving pub caused my nose to run, so I was sniffing in a very unattractive manner when Max