Georgie wears her new boots to the pub. It seems like a good opportunity to break them in, but there are no free tables and after just half an hour of standing at the bar, she can already feel the blisters beginning to form on her heels.
‘Nice boots,’ says some random guy, and she can’t quite figure out his intentions. He’s not the type who usually hits on her, and he looks like maybe he really is only interested in her footwear – he’s heavily tattooed, wearing a battered leather jacket, and sporting some pretty jazzy footwear of his own.
‘Thanks,’ she says. ‘They’re killing me.’
‘I’ve got a life hack for that,’ he says. ‘You got a tumble dryer at home?’
‘Well then, what you wanna do -,’ he pauses, ‘is, you wanna run the tumble dryer until it’s nice and warm inside and then you wanna turn it off, and put the boots in there, and a wet cloth, too, and I swear to god that the heat will make them stretch and you won’t have anymore trouble with ’em.’
Georgie has no idea whether this will work, or whether it will just trash her brand new boots. She might try it, maybe, but either way, it won’t help her now. Luckily, she thinks she might have a plaster in her bag.
She excuses herself to go to the loo, where she peels her tights off the raw skin and covers the wound.
When she comes out of the loos, he’s waiting for her directly outside the door, lounging against the wall. She knows not that it’s definitely not fashion he’s interested in after all.
‘You want another life hack?,’ he asks. ‘You got an iPhone? You know the one with the space bar?’
She gets up close to him, real close, clutches a handful of his t-shirt.
‘Wanna fuck me, Lifehack?’ she hisses. ‘Then have the guts to ask me. The rest of my life, I’ve got it sorted, but thanks.’