Page 31 of If We Were Young

And people wondered why I didn’t talk. Nothing came out like it should.

She eyed me, calculating, then her lips tilted. “Oh my god, did you think he was hot?” Her hair swished over her shoulder, her eyes brightening in a way I hadn’t seen in months. I could see her eyes—always a plus.

“No!” Yes, yes, and then more yes, but in a no, no, and then more no, way.

“You did!”

“Don’t tell Nonna.”

Her face fell. “Why?”

“Because she thinks everything I do is stupid.”

Hanna’s face crinkled like a paper ball as she thought this over. “That’s not true.”

“I can assure you it is.” I made a scoffing noise I’m not sure I’d made before. “Anyway, I don’t want to talk about him.”

“You thought he was hot.” The smile slipped back.

“No. I wanted to punch him in the balls.”

We did this thing where we smiled at one another and then she lifted a knowing eyebrow before swinging back out of the room.

“I don’t advocate hitting guys in the nuts,” I called after her, but a moment too late. Damage done. I couldn’t wait for my next call to the Head’s office.

* * *

The weekend hurtled past and before I knew it, Monday called and I was back in the office, wondering what the next call from school would be about.

“Oh my gawwwwwd.” Natalie whirled into my office with the force of a hurricane brewing offshore, and shut the door behind her, sliding her back down the glass.

I shoved my phone back into my bag. A message had beeped, and I thought it might have been from Matthew, what with us talking now. Or at least I think we were talking, it was kind of hard to tell. It turned out to be from Adrian—Ma had given my number out despite me saying no. Thanks, Ma.

“What’s up?” I glanced up, frowning when I noticed only one half of her lips had been stained red. “What’s going on?” It must be big if she hadn’t finished her lipstick, and when I say big, I mean earthquake big.

The skin on her throat blotched like she’d slipped with the small tube of lippy and spread it down her neck instead of on her mouth. She fanned herself, panting.

“I think my future husband has just walked in through the door.”

“What are you talking about, Natalie?” I sighed.

It took me a second for it to click.

“Oh. Mr Carling is here is he?”

My ten o’clock was fifteen minutes early. I breathed in deep. Why didn’t I sleep more last night?

He’s just a client, that’s all.

Why was he still wearing that bloody bracelet?

My fingers still clutched the desk.

If Natalie was close to orgasm, then he must look pretty fine. Shit.

I couldn’t do this.

No, I must do this.