Elsie-Rae's got Double D's

caught in his web (of lies)

I didn't plan on using that weird dating app that Aaron downloaded for me, but one drink led to another and I was curious, so I loaded it up and found a message in my inbox. It was from some guy in a Spiderman t-shirt that he'd lifted up to reveal his washboard abs — that should've been enough to put me off, his profile made me cringe so bad. My excuse for messaging him back is that it had been a really long time since I'd had any action in the bedroom or male attention of any kind.

We've been messaging back and forth for a couple of weeks now, he doesn't particularly come across as a gentleman, but his chat is quite exciting albeit filthy. Anyway, after I had a few more drinks, we exchanged some photos — you know, the kind of photos people advise you against sharing with strangers online — and before I knew it, I'd decided to agree to meet him one night.

I'm supposed to be meeting my internet date to tonight, my stomach's been in knots ever since he suggested The Swan Inn at 6.15 pm. The fact that he knows the pub in the market square surely implies that he's local, all I keep thinking is that I'm going to meet a guy who I know in actual real life. I guess I should've expected it though, Aaron did only set my scope for guys within a ten-mile radius of my parent's postcode. What happens if we decide to have a night of passion and then we end up bumping into each other in the street a few days or weeks after? I just keep trying to think positive thoughts, but it's hard, you know?

No one can know about this date — I'm not stupid, like, I know you're not supposed to meet people you don't know, or if you insist on meeting them have a friend tag along to keep you safe. But I'm not doing that. I'm meeting this guy for one thing and one thing only, what do you propose I do, ask my mum or Steph to come along and keep an eye on me? Anyway, it's only Aaron who knows I've got this account, and I'm not bloody telling him — my safety would be low on his list of priorities, all he'd be interested in is finding out if the internet date has a single mate he could set him up with.

Okay, so we've shared some photos, but they were from the neck down, so what my date actually looks like, I haven't got a clue.

So, James — I'm not sure if that was his actual name — had told me that he'd be wearing a red and white striped polo shirt and that he wore glasses. Hopefully, he won't be too difficult to spot.

And I told him that I'd tie my hair back and secure it with a red flower.

Haven't been able to face writing about my date until today — just thinking about it makes me want to curl up and die!

James — as I knew him on Friday night — wasn't in the pub when I got there, so I had a vodka and lemonade to calm my nerves. Even as I sat there I couldn't believe that I was actually going through with it, but it wasn't as if I'd had much luck with guys so internet dating was probably the most logical step. At least I knew that this guy wouldn't make a point of coming into the salon to get his haircut because unfortunately for me, Shaun had been coming in once a month since that drunken snog.

I'd sat there stomach flipping over, feeling sick and necking vodka like it was going out of fashion.

By 6.30 he still hadn't arrived, he'd left me sitting there for fifteen minutes after our designated meeting time and I thought that maybe he's changed his mind and maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. But that meant I'd been stood up and it was a like a punch to the gut, and I'd need another vodka or something stronger. So, I ordered myself a drink and got my phone out, loaded up the app and was about to message him, tell him that I'd changed my mind or I couldn't make it, any excuse to make the humiliation of being stood up sting a little less. And then I'd delete that stupid app, because what good was it anyway?

Then I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I turned around.

And fuck, not even a whole bottle of vodka could make this situation any better. Being stood up would've been the best for all involved.

"Dylan? Jesus Christ, what the fuck are you doing here?"

"Probably the same thing you are," he'd said pointing to the red flower in my hair.

It wasn't right. None of it was right. I was supposed to be meeting some fit guy who sent me sexy photos. But the person stood in front of me was my cousin.

I'd sent him nudes, my own cousin. And he'd told me that he liked them.

"Let's just drink and never talk about this again," Dylan said as he ordered four sambucas.

"How? How did this happen?" I'd questioned him.

"It's all your fault, why did you use a fake name? How are we supposed to go to family get-togethers?" he'd said unable to make eye contact with me.

"No, this is all your fault. You used a fake name. You're the one who contacted me first. And what about those photos?" I'd said while hiding my face behind the drinks menu.

"Let's just not talk about it. Let's just pretend it never happened. I mean, we're not technically blood-related though," he'd said with a smirk.

As if that mattered, my uncle had married Dylan's mother when he was nine, the not being blood-related was irrelevant. All I knew was that I needed more drinks; it was the only thing that could help me grin and bear this God-awful situation that I'd found myself in. Armed with vodka, tequila and Jägerbombs, I'd made my way back over to the table where Dylan was sat; he was looking at something on his phone and smiling to himself.

"What are you doing?" I'll admit that I was paranoid that he'd be looking at those photos again. And I thought I might be sick, it would be so weird, because we are cousins!

"Someone sent me a message on the app, look," Dylan said holding his phone out for me to see. "She wants to meet up."

"So you're ditching me now?"

"Needs must Elsie, needs must," he'd said with a wink. He threw a Jägerbomb down his neck and left me sitting alone.

In a way, I suppose it was to be expected, it's not as if I ever have any good luck, is it? It's all been my own fault though, I've been so wrapped up in everything else, work, Dean and then this stupid website that I'd completely neglected Leroy and my star signs. There was a time when I wouldn't leave the house without reading them, and now I couldn't even remember the last time I'd read them.

So I took my phone out, deleted that stupid dating app and opened up Leroy's app instead.

A week ago I'd been warned that things weren't as they seemed.

Three days ago he told me that I was about to get myself into a sticky situation.

He'd foretold this. If I'd been keeping up-to-date, then I would've known what was about to go down.