Page 58 of The App Trap
“Hey. Listen… I need to…”
Before I could say any more, he realised what was going on here and his mouth caved into the most fearsome of shapes: a cat’s arsehole.
“You fucking Catweazled me?” he cried, repeating the question twice.
“C-catfished, actually… but…”
Ironically, I started stuttering my words in the style of my creation, Brad. Harry held both of his hands up, puffed out his cheeks, turned around and stormed off.
“No, wait! Please. I didn't have sex with that German guy. I purposefully avoided it all night in fact.”
He stopped and folded his arms, awaiting further information. I explained to Harry that he’d come over from Germany and that I was trying to get rid of him and avoid having sex with him, but felt I owed it to him to at least put in an appearance since he’d come all that way.
“He booked the trip before we got together and I’d forgotten about it. I felt sorry for him, that’s all. Nothing happened, I swear,” I said.
“Oh. Right. So, why were you acting like such a prick, then? You dark-eyed me like I’d set fire to your mum’s cat. What’s her name. Layla?”
“Lilla, but let me explain.”
I then went on to explain the whole Freddy thing, that there’d been a terrible mix-up, and that I thought there was a husband on the scene and that he’d followed him to that hotel to kill me.
Gradually, his arms unfolded as he could no doubt see in my eyes that I was telling the truth, however ridiculous it sounded.
“You fucking Catweazled me,” he said at a lower volume that meant his bad mood was gradually diffusing.
“Yeah, I Catweazled you. But only because I fucked up and knew that I had to explain everything to you. I’ve never felt such a connection with anybody––and in every single way. It’s like nobody else exists when I’m with you. I feltawful without you after the short time we’ve had together. It was worse than having no 5G. Hey, you're my 5G. And when they invent another G, that’ll be you. And so on,” I said.
He melted a bit more and I could see a smile creeping onto the left side of his mouth, so I suggested that we made use of my reservation in the mysterious, swanky cocktail bar.
We were buzzed in and shown to our table.
“You made the reservation inyourname? You’re such a dick,” he said, finally smiling with both sides of his mouth.
Ah, he was back in the room.
We ended up having quite the splendid evening, and it seemed like there was hope of a reconciliation. He had had a succession of awful dates and was clearly fed up of the online world as well. He’d done it for three years, and told me that I was the only person that he had ever felt any sort of connection with in all that time.
I thought the ‘any sort of’ bit sounded a bit dismissive, but taking into account recent events, I chalked it up and moved on.
We went home separately, and on the way home he sent a text to my burner phone:
‘Thanks for blowing me out, Brad, you colossal turd muncher.’
At the weekend,I went to see Mum so I could rid Neil from her life. She seemed to be in quite a subdued mood, so I felt bad that I was just about to reveal what a scuz-bucket he was.
I was flicking through my phone and chuckling so that she’d ask me what I was looking at.
“What are you looking at?” she asked.
Bingo.
“Oh, just some pictures from my work do. Look, that’s me and the boss,” I said, presenting her with the evidence.
“Oh. Hang on,” she said, putting her reading glasses on before continuing. “I know that little weirdo. Phil?”
“Neil, actually.”
She took a quick intake of shock-induced breath.
