Page 77 of Fundamentals in Flirting

“I’ve apologised for my indiscretions. Come on, we’re both grown-ups. We should be able to get past it,” Jonathan said quietly, likely hoping that our audience wouldn’t hear this bit.

“Get past it?” I repeated, incredulously.

“Yes, you need to get over what happened. You need to accept my apology so we can get back to normal. You know deep down that we’re good together.” He went to grab my hand again but I balked, stepping out of reach. “Your mother says you’ve never been happier than when we were together, and that I’m just what you need.”

If he thought my mother’s opinion was the way to talk me round, it just showed how little he knew or cared about me.

“I think you’ll find that my mother, rather like you, is so wrapped up in herself and what she can get from other people that she wouldn’t have a clue if I was happy or not. In fact, she’d likely not have the wherewithal to piss on me if I was on fire.”

“Hannah!”

My mother’s screech was ear-splitting. Part of me was actually glad she’d heard that. I really needed the whole world to just bugger off right about now. I was an erupting, self-righteous volcano of putrid indignation and self-destruction. A mountain of mutinous spikes. And should most definitely be left well alone.

Giles sidled up to us and the obnoxious retort that was poised on the tip of my tongue evaporated into thin air as Jonathan put his arm around his shoulders in a matey fashion, casting a sly look in my direction.

Giles stared at him like he was a rock star, then turned to me. “Everything ok?”

“Yes. I think we just took Hannah by surprise. She really doesn’t like not knowing what’s going on, even when we’re all working together in her best interests, right?”

Giles glanced at me and flushed. “Sorry, I should have told you, but I thought you’d be happy to share the judging with Professor Pierce.”

“Jonathan, please,” he replied warmly, making Giles blush a little more. They were dickheads, the pair of them, and I absolutely did not need to be witness to this revolting bromance. A strange, disgusted little noise escaped my lips, a huffy grunt of displeasure now out in the open, so that my feelings on this sickening display of mutual appreciation were now available for external analysis.

Jonathan narrowed his eyes, obviously sensing my desire to flee, or to maim him.

“Come on, Hannah. Don’t let me and Giles down.”

Glancing around at the small circle of people watching intently, my mother giving me a slitty-eyed and pouty-lipped stare, undoubtedly lobbing mental daggers in my direction, I was suddenly faced with the impossible situation of letting my true feelings show or being the bigger person here. I knew I needed to demonstrate that I wasn’t just a prickly and petulant hedgehog, that I could be the professional veterinary surgeon Giles needed me to be. And it was an almost excruciatingly difficult decision.

“Fine, I will judge one class, and Professor Pierce can do the rest,” I said finally, satisfaction blooming as Jonathan’s face fell. “I’ll do the class for the dog the judge would most like to take home.”

Knowing this was the first class to be judged, meaning I could leave promptly and escape to somewhere where other people weren’t. I gave myself a mental pat on the back for my clear and rational decision.

“No, no! I thought we’d judge together?”

Jonathan was panicking. He’d be stuck here all day looking at endless dogs and talking to besotted owners about all their health niggles. Hell on earth for him.

Perfect.

“As an eminent professor of veterinary medicine at one of the most prestigious vet schools in the country, your credentials are far superior to mine, and let’s not forget your numerous television appearances. A famous vet judging the dog show? The contestants will be over the moon to talk to you. I’d only get in the way of your moment of glory, right?”

“W-w-w-what? No!”

“I’ll go and grab a coffee and get ready for my class then. It’s kicking off in a few minutes – isn’t that right, Giles?” He nodded while Jonathan just stared at me furiously. “Good.”

Taking a deep breath, and with a final smile and nod to the now not insignificant audience that had gathered, I made my way over to the coffee stand and joined the back of the small queue, my boiling insides finally calming down.

“Well that was exceedingly rude, and no way to talk about the woman who gave birth to you.”

My mother sidled up to me with a superficially ethereal and yet eerily demonic, calm.

“I’m sorry.” I sighed rubbing my hands over my eyes. “I probably shouldn’t have said the thing about you piss?—”

“Yes, thank you, Hannah,” she said abruptly, cutting me off and pinching the bridge of her nose in obvious despair. “Neither was it a good way to treat a man who’s obviously only trying to do what’s right for you.”

“Right for me?”

“He clearly cares about you and your career and is a hugely successful person.”

---