Page 23 of Love, Just In

Zac tosses back a large swig of wine. ‘Why would it be weird if he called you?’

‘Well, you did say he’s a nudist who can’t aim at the toilet.’

He sets his glass down. ‘You can go out with whoever you want. And heisyour type.’

Oh, this is going to be good.

I lean back in my seat. ‘And what exactly is my type? Come on, give it to me.’ I curl my fingers at him.

Zac doesn’t even take a beat. ‘Sydney stockbroker who pops the collar up on his polo-neck shirts and posts pics of his business-class boarding passes on social media, or pics when he’s on a boat—literally anytime, anywhere. Oh, and when he orders his oat milk lattes with a dash of Madagascar cinnamon, he feels compelledto speak at ten thousand decibels into his earpiece about cryptocurrency.’

I bite away a smile. ‘I don’t know Lindsay, but I doubt he’s any of those things.’

He makes a pretend laugh. ‘He’s a business analyst for a software company, and his parents are loaded. Very rich, very boring, and very much your type.’ He lifts his glass in a ‘cheers’ before taking another sip.

I paint my face with a mask of amusement to hide my offence. Even though Zac’s words aren’t exactly off the mark, I don’t like the way they feel in my head.

‘I’m like you, Zac. I just want to “play the field” since I’m not staying up here in Newcastle,’ I joke to get him back. ‘Someone with a cute smile, a hot body, and a big bank account—they’re my priorities. Like Lindsay.’ I mimic his ‘cheers’ gesture to the air.

Even as I smirk, though, I can’t help thinking that none of those characteristics sound too bad.Bloody hell, am I as superficial as he thinks I am?

Zac just shrugs and looks away like he has nothing more to say about this. There’s a hint of tension seeping into the room, but I need this topic clarified.

‘So, just to be clear,’ I say slowly, twirling the base of my wine glass back and forth. ‘You don’t mind if I go out on a date with Lindsay.’

‘Jeez, Josie, if you want to go out with him that badly, just do it. Fuck, what do I care?’

‘OK.’ My lips tighten, and I look away, but I feel his eyes on me.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.’

‘No, it’s all good.’

Zac gets up and paces towards the sink, where he flings open the lower cabinet. ‘Where’s your washing-up liquid?’

‘Oh no, you’re not doing that.’ I get up and dart over to him, giving him a little shove back towards the table. ‘Sit and drink like a good boy.’

After a couple of protests that I rebuff, he settles back at the dining table, and I turn on the tap to fill the sink.

‘Did you see me on the news this week?’ I ask, like the world’s biggest egocentric.

‘Sure did. You look good on TV. Although you pronounced one of the suburb names wrong.’

I twist around. ‘I did?’

‘Minmi. You said it as Min-mee, but it’s Min-mih.’

‘Oh, shit.’ Those small details don’t go unnoticed in regional communities.

‘I thought pronouncing names correctly was Journalism 101,’ he teases. ‘Did you do any actual studying at uni, or were you too busy chasing after those MBA tosspots to learn how to do your job properly?’

The fact that he’s finally comfortable enough to take the piss out of me fills me with a delight that’s more powerful than my slightly wounded feelings. But I have to get him back, so I grab a pen off the counter and lightly fling it in his direction.

Zac ducks, but the plastic lid connects with his hair.

‘What the?’ he says, tugging at the pen clinging to his muss of dark curls.

I clap a hand over my mouth to hide my laugh. ‘Oh, dear. What’s going on here?’ I bark like a school principal, heading over to him.

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