Now every time I say ‘Barry’ I try to make it sound sexy just to prove Oliver wrong. I’m sure he’s extremely sexual, but I intend to play it cool and not jump him and ride him like a stolen BMX. Lucy and I discussed my plans for self-restraint over toasted sandwiches in the canteen at lunchtime. ‘I don’t see the point in waiting,’ remarked Lucy, pushing her pitiful side salad around on her plate. ‘What if you fall in love with this guy, sleep with him and it’s a disaster? Do you want my tomato?’ I nodded and stabbed it with my fork. ‘Fuck, Lucy, I’m only planning on waiting a bit, not until my wedding night.’ ‘Well, don’t wait too long,’ she said very seriously, ‘Your vagina will close up.’ ‘Enough about me. What’s happening with your love life? Tree surgeon still on the scene?’ ‘Kyle? Yup. I’m seeing him again on Saturday.’ ‘Kyle is a good name,’ I said wistfully. ‘It’s better than Barry.’ ‘Most names are.’ She smirked. ‘Kyle’s just hot as hell.
