Page 9 of The Worst Guy Ever
As far as I know, there’s been nobody else after my dad, no support from my grandparents, who’ve both since died, either. She’s done everything for me.
I’m not about to encourage my mum to get on a dating app, nor do I want to think about her having sex, but that life of solitude seems pretty depressing to me. It’s no wonder she wants me to give her some grandkids.
Getting comfy on the sofa beside her, I distract myself with a text to Luke, asking for Hattie’s number. That bet I made with her yesterday was such a dumb idea. I love flirting, but I’ve never been this cocky about it with anyone else.
I know I screwed up big time the day we met. The moment I laid eyes on her, sitting there at Luke’s dining table, my manners and senses left my body. Soft pale pink hair, that beautiful body, those stunning blue eyes that refused to look my way. No wonder I lost my game entirely.
I felt terrible for calling her a slut, and still do. I guess I figured,‘hey, you like it, I like it’, why not be upfront about it? Unsurprisingly, it didn’t go down well, but since then there’s been a level of banter between us, a chemistry that’s borderline aggressive, and I can’t get enough of it. I can’t explain why I enjoy winding her up so much. Seeing her all stroppy and frustrated just does something to me.
She’s changed her hair since then, the pink faded and was replaced with a bright blonde. Megan once told me Hattie’s had all sorts of shades over the years. I’d have asked to see photos if I didn’t think it would end up with her calling me a pervert or worse.
I’m screwed. She’s not a woman you mess with. There’s no game plan here. I don’t even know when I’ll see her again, and there’s not much chance of getting her into bed when I don’t know where she lives, where she works, or where she hangs out.
It’s a safe bet she’ll be at the Book Club Kara hosts at Sunshine Coffee, but romance novels aren’t my thing, and it would be inappropriate to turn up somewhere else unexpectedly. I’ve never had to resort to stalking to get laid, and I’m not about to start.
Luke replies, and when I save her number to my contacts, it autocorrects toHottie. The typo makes me smile so much I leave it that way.
Me:Hey this is Rob.
“Is this one sugar or two?” Mum asks.
“Two,” I lie. It’s fucking nuts how much sugar these two get through in a day with the amount of tea they drink.
“Bullshit,” she says, shoving it back in my direction. “Can’t get the staff these days. Sort it out Tea Boy. Give him yours too, Sheila.”
Sheila shakes her head and holds it out, eyes glued to the TV. I stand up and take both mugs back to the kitchen and add half a spoon. There’s a message waiting for me when I get back to my seat.
Hottie:Rob who?
Rude.
Me:Rob Morgan
Hottie:???
Me:You know who I am. Luke’s friend. The hot one. The object of all your desires. The man you’ll soon be losing a bet to.
A photo appears in our chat, a screenshot of a Google search.How to block dickheads from texting you.That shit makes me smile so hard my face hurts.
Me:You’re funny. I like you.
Hottie:Well I don’t like you. What do you want Knob?
Me:Is that a typo or your brilliant wit?
Hottie:You’ll never know.
Me:When can I see you?
Hottie:Never.
Me:Seems unlikely given our best friends are madly in love with each other.
Hottie:Then you can see me next month when you give me my money.
God, she’s annoying. I can’t get enough of it.
“What are you smiling at?” Mum asks.
