Her mouth was like the Sahara, and as she slowly raised herself up on one elbow, the room swung around her. ‘Oh God,’ she croaked, memories of yesterday’s balloon ride flooding back. She’d had all that champagne, and then Adam . . . she shuddered as she remembered him putting his pale arms around her and pulling her against him. Jesus. Strange that there’d been no drama, no conflict; just her and the robot, huddled together in the basket. From Charlie to Kyle, every other date had included some sort of clash. Did the show want the audience to vote for Adam? Maybe they’d edited in a bit of excitement, somehow. She’d passed out as soon as she got home from the date and hadn’t watched it on her laptop. Well, however Tweedledee and Tweedledum had made her come across, at least the great British public would see she wasn’t scarred by Kyle – she had moved on. Even if it was with a zombie like Adam. And Kyle would know things were definitely over between them.
