The Plain Friend
Staring into her phone as if it were a mirror, Emily adjusted the gloss on her full lips for the fourth time. Her long legs, sheathed in nude stockings, were dramatically on display thanks to an ultra-short black leather skirt. The deep neckline of her tight pink top barely contained her ample, surgically enhanced D-cup breastspaid for by an ex-boyfriend who owned a chain of car dealerships after much persuasion. Her delicate, perfectly shaped nosea gift from another admirer, a plastic surgeoncompleted the flawless look. Her waist-length platinum blonde extensions shimmered under the sunlight.
“Sophie, he should be here by now!” she fussed, nervously twisting the ends of her hair. “Just look at his profile photos. A townhouse in Chelsea, a villa in the Cotswolds…”
Sophie stirred her lukewarm coffee in silence, occasionally glancing at her friend. Next to the dazzling Emily, she was a shadowpetite, slightly rounded, dressed in a modest white blouse with long sleeves and a navy knee-length skirt. Her mousy brown hair was pulled into a simple ponytail, and the only makeup on her face was a swipe of clear lip balm. Thick textbooks on English literature sat beside her handbagshe planned to study after this meeting.
“Em, are you sure hes serious?” Sophie asked quietly, adjusting her thick-framed glasses.
“Of course!” Emily rolled her smokey-eyed gaze. “Hes forty-two, owns a property development firm, has houses all over. Im looking for a husbandfor five years, max. Then divorce, a settlement, and Ill be living the high life in one of his country homes.”
Sophie winced but stayed silent. Emily stroked her rounded chest proudly.
“The main thing is he mustnt realise my English is shaky. Thats why I brought you, clever clogs. If I stumble, youll step in. And honestly,” Emily smirked, “you know why I invited you, right? Contrast, darling. Next to a plain Jane like you, Ill shine even brighter.”
The words stung, but Sophie just lowered her eyes. She was used to being the “plain friend.” Ever since school, Emily had dragged her along to dates and parties for this exact purposeto make herself the centre of attention.
A man walked into the café. Of average height, slightly soft around the middle, with greying hair and kind brown eyes behind thin gold-rimmed glasses. Ordinary at first glance, but Emilys sharp eyes caught the details: his charcoal-grey suit was understated but clearly expensivecashmere with a silk blend, impeccably tailored. His black Oxford shoes were from a renowned Italian brands latest collection, their price tag easily matching her yearly student allowance.
“Oh!” Emily whispered. “Hes loaded. Shame about the face, though.”
The man approached their table, holding a single white rose.
“Excuse me, are you Emily?” His voice was warm, with a refined London accent. “Im James Whitmore.”
“Yes, its me!” Emily instantly transformed, flashing a sultry smile and leaning forward to deepen her cleavage. “And this is my friend Sophie.”
James nodded politely at Sophie and handed Emily the rose before sitting down. Sophie noticed he avoided staring at Emilys revealing outfit, his gaze lingering instead on her stack of books.
“I brought you both a small gift,” James said, offering them each an elegant Chanel box.
“Oh! How sweet!” Emily immediately inspected the packaging, mentally calculating its worth. “This is very expensive, yes? Lovely perfume!” she added in heavily accented English, stressing all the wrong syllables.
“Thank you very much, Mr. Whitmore,” Sophie said softly, and James looked at her in surprise. Unlike Emily, she spoke nearly flawlessly, with perfect intonation. “Its very kind of you.”
“Please, call me James,” he smiled. “So, you both study English literature?”
“Yes, yes! I study English very good!” Emily chirped, tossing her platinum hair. “I want visit London! So beautiful city! You have big house there, yes?” She playfully brushed his hand with her bright red nails.
James winced slightly at her broken grammar. Unfazed, Emily prattled on, erupting into loud laughter every so often, tilting her head back to show off her long neck.
“And you, Sophie?” James turned to the quiet girl. “Whats your favourite aspect of literary studies?”
“Im particularly interested in Victorian literature,” Sophie replied, her soft voice growing confident. “The challenge of capturing not just the narrative but the social nuances of the era.” She gestured to her books. “Were studying Dickens and the Brontës this term.”
“Really?” Jamess eyes lit up. “What do you think of *Wuthering Heights*? Many find it rather intense.”
“It is,” Sophie smiled. “But the raw emotion, the complexity of the characters… Its like peeling back layers of human nature.”
Emily frowned. This wasnt part of her plan.
“James!” She draped a hand over his shoulder, nails digging in slightly. “Tell me about your business! Youre very successful, yes? Rich man!” She winked and burst into another loud laugh.
“I specialise in sustainable architecture,” he replied dryly, gently removing her hand. “But Id rather hear about your studies.” He turned back to Sophie. “Have you analysed *Jane Eyre*? The feminist undertones are quite progressive for its time.”
For the next half-hour, James barely glanced at Emily, engrossed in discussion with Sophie about literature, poetry, and the subtleties of language. Sophie, usually silent beside her radiant friend, blossomed. Her hazel eyes sparkled behind her glasses as she animatedly discussed her favourite authors.
Emily grew increasingly sullen. She tried repeatedly to interjectadjusting her cleavage, crossing her legs, tossing her hairbut her shallow remarks (“Yes, very interesting!” or “I like books too!”) fell flat against the lively intellectual exchange.
“Excuse me,” she finally snapped, standing abruptly. “Sophie, we need the loo. Girl talk, you know?”
In the bathroom, Emily rounded on her.
“Have you lost it?! Why are you chatting up *my* man?!”
“Em, I was just answering his questions” Sophie retreated toward the sink.
“Dont play innocent!” Emilys eyes blazed. “You know exactly why I brought you! Youre here to make *me* look better! I spent a fortune on this outfitIm the queen, and youre the dull little mouse whos meant to sit there quietly! Not spout your bookish nonsense!”
“Em, he was the one asking”
“Shut it!” Emily loomed over her. “Get out! Go home! Hes *mine*! Ive been chasing him for months, and some frumpy bookworm isnt ruining this!”
Sophie paled. She removed her glasses, wiped them shakily, and put them back on.
“Fine, Em. Sorry for interfering.”
She walked out, collected her books, and approached the table.
“James, Im terribly sorry, but I must leave. Thank you for the lovely conversation and the gift.”
“But why?” James stood, visibly disappointed. “Was it something I said? I was enjoying our talk…”
“Not at all,” Sophie smiled sadly. “It was wonderful meeting you. I hope you enjoy your stay in London.”
She hurried out, hugging her books, leaving Emily alone with her prize.
But the prize had lost interest. Emily returned triumphantly, fluffing her hair and thrusting out her chest.
“Now we can chat properly! Sophies so… boring. But *Im* fun!”
James nodded politely, his earlier warmth gone. He endured twenty more minutes of Emilys braggingher surgeries, her designer wardrobe, how men adored herbefore checking his watch.
“Apologies, Emily, but Ive an urgent matter.” He left cash for the coffee. “This was… enlightening.”
He walked out without asking for her number.
Emily sat seething, manicured nails tapping the table. Her flawless face twisted with rage. She pulled out her phone and opened a dating app. Within minutes, she was messaging a tech entrepreneur named Daniel: “Hey handsome! When are you flying to London? Cant wait to see you! ”
***
Two weeks later, Sophie left university after submitting her dissertation on Victorian prose. Her bag held a paper graded “First,” and despite Emily pointedly ignoring her since the café, her heart felt light.
Outside, a sleek black Jaguar idled. Sophie adjusted her heavy backpack and walked pastuntil the door opened, and James stepped out with an enormous bouquet of white roses.
“Sophie!” He looked younger, almost nervous. “Ive been waiting for you.”
“James?” She froze. A handful of classmates slowed, watching curiously. “I thought youd gone back to Edinburgh…”
“I couldnt leave without seeing you again.” He offered the roses. “Would you have dinner with me? Ive so much to say…”
“I…” Sophie glanced at her gaping peersincluding Emily, whose face contorted with
