Page 5 of (Not) The One
‘If we bond any more, you’ll be grafted to my hip.’
Heather sets off laughing again, making me smile but then my smile falls when I realise how much I’ll miss her when she starts university in a couple of months. It might seem odd to some that we’re still talking despite having spent the whole day working together and then the evening together, but the fact is, we could probably carry on a conversation underwater. Also, I don’t like the idea of her travelling alone at this time of night.
‘You still there?’
‘Yep.’ I carefully step over the next plant pot, this one overflowing with geraniums.
‘You should totally do something about him while you’re there.’
‘Do something? Likewhat?’
‘I dunno. Flirt. Let him catch you putting out the rubbish in your jammies or something.’
‘Ha! You want him to run away?’
‘Not the pyjamas you sleep in, obviously. You must have sexier ones than those.’
‘You are funny.’
‘I wasn’t trying to be. I mean it—it’s not like you haven’t been drooling over that delicious piece of man bod yourself.’
‘I have not,’ I retort. ‘Well, maybe just a little,’ I amend. ‘But he isn’t really my type.’
‘Tall, bronzed, and hung like a donkey is everyone’s type, silly. Is he home?’ she adds a little excitedly. I already know he’s not but glance at the bank of darkened bi-fold glass doors on the back of the Victorian-era villa anyway. ‘What if he mistakes you for a cat burglar creeping around his garden and dashes out to tackle you to the ground?’
‘Then I’ll probably need a few days off work to recover,’ I murmur, peering under a small topiary hedge.
‘I’d say you would by the size of him. Remember when he was working out on the lawn the other day in nothing more than those blue shorts? Lawdy, lawdy!’ I can almost see her fanning her face.
‘You mean when you insisted on drinking your coffee upstairs, and I found you in the window seat with your tongue almost plastered to the windowpane?’
‘I seem to remember I wasn’t the only one.’ Her sardonic tone turns a little salacious as she adds, ‘God, those abs. And those shorts, remember?’ She makes an inarticulate noise as I swallow a little thickly myself because yes, I remember. How could I not? Particularly as the soft fabric clung to a very particular part of him. ‘That thing was like a Coke can! And so...bouncy.I’m surprised he didn’t injure himself.’
‘I can’t believe we’re having this conversation while you’re on public transport.’
‘Chill, the carriage is empty. But you should totally introduce yourself to him,’ she adds animatedly.
‘Yeah, right.’ I stick the toe of my shoe in the flowerbeds, dispersing the flora and fauna as I scan for tell-tale signs of pink kitty skin, but no luck.
‘I mean it, he’d be perfect rebound material. He’s obviously single—’
‘Not obviously.’
‘If he’s not single, he must have a very understanding partner given the trail of women you’ve seen go in and out of his place.’
‘I didn’t say I’d seen a trail of women come out of his place. I said he just looked like someone who would.’
‘Oh, Judgey McJudgerson,’ she taunts.
‘You never know what goes on behind closed doors,’ I reply a little loftily. ‘Besides, I’m surprised you’d suggest I sleep with a possible man whore given I’ve recently spent several months engaged to one.’
‘Ah-ah. No slut shaming. Besides, Cameron wasn’t a slut. He was a snake. And if you ask me, a man who’s free with his favours without expectation is exactly the rebound type.’
‘In theory, maybe.’
‘And speaking of theories, here’s one for you. Do you think the boss lady would accept deliciously sore as grounds for sick leave?’
‘I’m going to hang up if you say one more thing about your planned evening.’
