Page 10 of (Not) The One
‘Exactly.’ A lie by insinuation. Should I ask myself why? ‘He might even come looking for me.’ More lies. The only person who’d miss me for at least a week would be Heather, who’ll probably laugh herself to death when I tell her about this.
‘And what a position he’d find you in.’ Also, why do I feel disappointed that he doesn’t seem at all upset at the prospects of me having a boyfriend? ‘Actually, that might be an idea.’
‘What?’ I splutter as he straightens. I’m suddenly extremely aware of the cool evening breeze and my preference for cartoon undies. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I’ll be back in a tick.’
‘Don’t you go out there!’ I almost shriek as he makes his way across the kitchen to the glass doors on the other side of the room.
‘I don’t think I need to point out that you’re in no position to stop me.’ As the lock clicks open, David Meowie’s paws hit the tiled floor. ‘That is, unless you’re planning on living out the rest of your days on all fours.’
There’s so much suggestion in that statement, but I’m not biting.
‘Just... don’t let the cat out.’ But he’s right. I can’t stay here, even if that does mean he’s about to get a flash of Garfield, the Care Bears, Betty Boop, or whatever other cartoon is decorating my knickers today. But it’s not like I haven’t been embarrassed to within an inch of my life already.
‘The cat?’
‘He’s what got me into this mess in the first place.’
He pauses with his hand on the handle. ‘I don’t doubt it.’ His smile is a wicked gleam of teeth from across the room. ‘Pussy definitely has a way of making you do things you wouldn’t do ordinarily.’
Erm...What?
The soles of his shoes sound against the paving, shuffling a little as they come to a stop. Did he just chuckle?
I try to drop my waist, hoping my weight will pull the zipper from the hinge again.No luck.‘If I’m flashing my knickers at you, I should at least know your name.’
‘James. I’m very pleased to meet the bottom of... ?’
‘Miranda, and you can stop laughing now. This isn’t very funny.’
‘I think that depends on the perspective you’re viewing from.’
‘What?’ I ask, turning my head over my shoulder as though I could see through the hardwood door. ‘You’re saying I have a funnybottom?’ Has that word ever sounded so prim before? If it has, it wasn’t falling from my lips. But my tone isn’t in response to any kind of vulnerability I feel but rather from a sense of mortification. What kind of idiot goes chasing a cat into a stranger’s house?
‘On the contrary. You have a delightful—’ I don’t hear the rest of his compliment as I groan loudly, my humiliation complete. ‘And such charming underwear, too.’
ButthatI heard, along with his deep chuckle.
‘They’re not charming. They’re boy shorts, which yes, sort of do look like granny undies. But they’re fun. And I needed cheering up, so I bought a dozen pairs of novelty knickers, all right?’
‘Perfectly. I’m usually inclined to prefer briefs that are a little more, how can I put this?Brief. But your choice is perfectly... charming.’
‘You’re enjoying this way too much.’
‘What was that?’
‘I saidif you could just help me with this stupid zipper, I would be most grateful.’
‘I think I can manage that. If you’ll allow me to... there.’
The zipper is dislodged, and with the sudden forward momentum, the only thing preventing me from shooting through the square hole is my hips.
‘Ooff!’
Of course, my mortification isn’t complete because now I’ve got to wriggle out. I choose to do so by crawling backwards a little before rolling onto my side. Then I wriggle into the kitchen because the prospect of him watching my wriggleoutlike a worm is slightly more embarrassing. Only, as I stand, I realise I’ve left a couple of important articles of clothing on the outside. My shoes and, more importantly, my skirt. But there isn’t anything else for me to do but grab the cat, open the back door, and run away as fast as my bare feet will carry me.
‘Sorry for the whole, erm...’ I wave my hand in the direction of the dog door. ‘And thanks for your help again.’ Niceties dealt, I pull the door wide and turn sideways a little to angle my way past him. I’d absolutely underestimated how tall he is, but I suppose it’s hard to tell when your face is pressed up against a bedroom window, or you’re on your knees looking up at him. ‘I’m sorry for, well, everything. And thank you.’ I go to reach for the remains of my skirt from his hand when he pulls it away.
