Nerves in the Face of a Dream Woman

This book is great - full of fresh descriptions. It brings back my fumbling teenage years. Actually my bungling twenties too.

Another quote from DBC Pierre's Vernon God Little:

'Right here, by the octopus,' I tell the driver.
The figure of a young woman stands by the road. I slouch low, hoping she doesn't see me yet. I hate it when you go to meet somebody, and they spot you twenty fucken miles away, and just stay staring at you. You feel like your steps bounce too much, or your shoulders are too dangly or something. You hold the same dumb smile.
It's Taylor Figueroa. She's in a short khaki skirt. Her legs and arms flow warm and careless under sparkling brown hair. Her eyebrows flash up when she sees the cab. I feel sick to my fucken stomach.
'That'll be seven-eighty,' says the driver.
The cool of her smell hits me as soon as the door opens, but the cab seat is so low and busted that I make it look like climbing Mount Everest to get out. Taylor freeze-frames her smile while I haul my pack across the eastern face of the fucken cab. Then I drop my wallet in the road. She folds her arms while I scramble for a banknote, and hand it to the guy.
'That's seven-eighty,' says the driver, 'and this is only five,' He holds the bill out the window like it's a turd.
Sprinklers of sweat pop up on my forehead. I fumble through my pocket for change, but the pocket's so tight I can hardly get my hand in at all. Van Damme would rip the back of his hand off rather than squirm like this, he'd punch the driver's fucken lights out. I finally just pass the guy a ten from my billfold.
'Keep the change,' I tell him, all nonchalant. Taylor leans over to kiss my cheek, but stops again, mid-air. The goddam driver waves a banknote out the window.
'Don't forget your five.'
'I said keep the change.'
'You sure? Thanks, thanks a lot . . .'