Page 7 of After Felix
I’m halfway home when my phone beeps. Digging it out of my pocket, I look down at the text and then give a startled laugh.
Max: Hope you’re home safely.
A smile plays on my lips as I tap on my phone.
Me: Why wouldn’t I be?
Max: Well, you were walking a bit funny. I was concerned that I’d shagged your coordination out of you.
Me: I think that only happens when people get to your advanced age.
He sends me back a one-fingered emoji, and I laugh.
Me: I cannot even begin to imagine how your number ended up on my phone?
Max: I put it in while you were in the bathroom. Thought it might come in handy.
Me: For what? If I ever happen to need my autobiography written?
Max: I’ve already got the title. ‘Sassy and Shagged Out’. It’ll be a bestseller.
My laugh echoes loudly on the bus, and I attract a few stares.
Me: I don’t need the money. Not now I’ve got a very personalised signed copy of your book. I’m sure I’ll be able to sell it for a fortune. I’llgo and live in the South of France on my yacht surrounded by the glamorous set who’ll bleed me dry and then leave me to bemoan my fate in a seedy piano bar before taking a drunken header into the sea.
Max: Are you sure you aren’t a writer?
Me: How will I know?
Max: Have you got a drinking problem?
Me: Not this afternoon.
Max: Then you should have my number just in case that drink problem rears its head.
Me: Very civic-minded of you, Journalist Max.
The bus pulls up at my stop, and I shake my head and shove my phone in my pocket, pushing him to the back of my mind. I’ll never see him again, but it was good fun, and he was an excellent shag. Dismissing him, I make my way home with a spring in my step and a lovely ache in my arse.
CHAPTER THREE
FELIX
I slide into the booth and look over the table. Max looks back at me. He’s lounging with his arm slung along the booth’s back.
I shake my head at him. “So, your ‘just in case you need my number’ actually translates to ‘I’ll text you if I fancy another shag’?”
He laughs and tilts his head to one side, waves of black hair brushing the shoulders of his oatmeal-coloured jumper. “And do you mind?”
I shrug. “Fuck no. I can’t help being a memorable shag. It brings all the boys to my yard.”
He grins. “I can quite see that.”
I take off my parka and wink at him. “Anyway, it takes all of the pesky work out of finding a shag. I approve.”
“What work?” He settles back in the booth as if preparing to be entertained. I smile at the waiter and give him my drink order before turning to Max and folding my arms on the table.
“Well, Max, let’s see. There’s the extreme toil of finding someone who fits all your sexual requirements and is open to doing that with agreat deal of physical effort, minimum conversation, and absolutely zero commitments.”
