Sounds good.

You laugh reluctantly. ‘Thanks. Seriously. I may just take you up on that.’

Emma punches your arm softly. ‘You better. Chin up, kid. Plenty more fish, etcetera.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘Although this is the last time I date one called Justin, I swear it. Fucking name is jinxed.’

‘I call him Fat Justin for short,’ you interject. Emma lets out a proper laugh; it starts in her chest and comes tumbling out, rich and deep and genuine.

‘Now that’s golden. I’m just going to steal that, if you don’t mind. Okay…’ She swipes through her phone and taps for a second, then flips it around. You smile – she’s renamed his contact.

‘There. Now if he tries calling…’ Emma winks. ‘Well, he won’t, who are we kidding? But if he does, that’ll remind me not to answer. Okay.’ She stuffs the phone back in her back. ‘I’m seriously going to get out of here, but if you’re staying, well…’

She darts in and kisses you lightly on the cheek. ‘It was nice to meet you, James the ballsy Uber driver. And I hope it goes better for you than you think.’

‘Thanks,’ you tell her, sad she’s leaving but glad to have met her. ‘You, too.’

‘Oh, I’ll be fine!’ Emma tosses her red hair back, and it catches the light prettily. ‘He was literally just a fuckboy, and I should’ve known better. Did know better. Well, now I do, anyway. I’ll see you around sometime?’

You hold up your phone. ‘I’ll call you.’

‘You better.’ Emma Stone winks. ‘Later, James…’