Page 74 of The Worst Guy Ever
“Fine, we can do this. I’m in.” I pull her into a hug and squeeze tight, “but I’m only agreeing to this because one night wasn’t enough time to do everything I wanted with you.”
“Oh,” she says, sitting back. I notice her picking at her thumbnail again. “Like what?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out, sweetheart.”
“You have the worst lines,” she laughs, standing up to leave. “I don’t know how you ever get laid.”
Chapter 31
Rob
“Whoareyoutexting?”Auntie Sheila asks. “Is it that girl?”
“What girl?”
“The one who cut your face. The one you were making eyes at all night at Luke’s wedding.”What the fuck?Nothing gets past Sheila.
“She’s a woman.” A woman I’m desperate to see again. “Be quiet and watch your show.”
Hottie:We need to agree to some ground rules
Me:Way to kill the mood
Hottie:I’m serious. I don’t want this to be more complicated than it needs to be
Me:Want to come over Wednesday and state your terms?
Hottie:I have book club, but I can come after?
Me:Oh you’ll come alright. Wednesday works. See you then, fuck buddy.
Hottie:Call me that again and you’ll lose a testicle
“What the hell are you wearing?”
“A suit.” Deep black, it fits me in all the right places. I’ve loosened my tie, and undone the top two buttons of my shirt. I knew exactly what I was doing when I opted not to change after work.
Hattie has made considerably less of an effort than the last time she turned up here, though she still looks gorgeous in grey sweatpants and a matching hoodie, her dark grey cap doing little to disguise her.
“I can see it’s a suit. Why is it on you?”
“I had a management meeting.” I lean closer and plant a kiss on her cheek. She baulks, then lets me. “Is something the matter?”
“I can’t come in with you looking like that.”
“Why not?”
“Fuck’s sake, Rob! I’m wearing jogging bottoms, and I’ve got a rotisserie chicken in a carrier bag. You look like some billionaire book boyfriend who’s off to a ball. I’ll come before I’ve taken my shoes off.”
I grab the front of her hoodie, and pull her over the threshold. “Get in here you nutter, I’ll get changed.”
“Oh you absolutely will not,” she says, toeing off her trainers and making her way to the kitchen.
“No?”
“Leave it on. Just keep your mouth shut and let me enjoy the view. Management meeting, for God’s sake. Where do you work, the mafia?”
She unpacks her shopping on my kitchen counter and I hang back, happy to watch her make herself at home.
