Page 19 of Ex in the City
‘…And wants to hire me to do my job, the one I’m good at,’ I finish his sentence. ‘I suppose if I take the job, he can just hang around for a while, we’ll go through what he needs to do, and then that’s it. It will be done. It’s work.’
‘Then why are you making him dinner?’ Rowan asks.
‘Because he is still an old friend,’ I reply firmly.
‘An old friend who you had replace me at the school today,’ Rowan points out, his jealousy evident. ‘It was supposed to be Archie’s dad doing the talk.’
‘Well, Archie’s dad wasn’t there, or answering his phone,’ I explain, trying to maintain my composure.
Rowan’s feelings, whether you think he’s right or not, are totally null and void because we broke up months ago, and he knows where we stand. He has no right to be jealous.
‘Tell me he isn’t staying here, with us,’ Rowan says, his voice almost pleading.
I pause, uncertain about Dylan’s plans. Obviously, I haven’t invited him to stay here, though.
‘Oh, no, I would never impose like that,’ Dylan’s voice suddenly chimes in. Both Rowan and I turn to look at him, neither of us expecting him to be standing there.
‘Oh, hello,’ I say, mustering up my usual level of hospitality for any dinner guests we have.
‘Sorry, I rang the doorbell, I don’t think it’s working,’ Dylan points out.
He’s wearing a pair of black jeans and a black T-shirt, with the leather jacket I saw him in earlier. Rowan, seemingly threatened, has dressed up for dinner too, in a pair of cream chinos with a white shirt, which only reminds me how different the two of them are.
‘Yeah, sorry, the doorbell is rubbish,’ I tell him. ‘Dylan, this is Rowan. Rowan, this is Dylan.’
‘Hi,’ Rowan says simply, almost angrily even, as he reaches out and gives him one of those cringy manly handshakes.
‘Hey,’ Dylan replies – you can tell he’s picking up on the awkwardness. ‘Listen, I just overheard your conversation and, really, I would never overstep the mark like that. I don’t want to stay here.’
‘See, there you go,’ I tell Rowan, hoping it chills him out a bit.
‘I’ve actually rented the house across the street,’ Dylan continues, as though it’s the most normal thing in the world.
Oh, boy.
Rowan is briefly stunned into silence.
‘What, Mr Campbell’s house?’ I ask as I lift the food from the oven.
‘Is that the one with the green door?’ Dylan checks.
‘Yes,’ I reply.
‘Then yes,’ he confirms with a smile. ‘I thought it would be easier than travelling back and forth for like four hours a day or whatever.’
That does sound like a sensible idea, but for Rowan, the prospect of my secret rock-star bestie moving in across the street is obviously a bit much.
Mr Campbell, our cul-de-sac’s octogenarian nosy neighbour, sadly passed away recently. While his grown kids are working out what to do with his house, they’ve been renting it out on one of those short-term letting sites.
‘Are you fu?—’
‘Kids, dinner is ready,’ I call out, cutting Rowan off. He seems seriously rattled by Dylan’s presence. Definitely more so than I thought he would be, but then again Dylan has always had that effect on men, if they felt threatened by him. His confidence can be mistaken for arrogance, and his naturally flirtatious tone can be misconstrued for genuine romantic advances.
‘Dylan,’ Archie says, only just realising he’s here, running over excitedly, grabbing Dylan for a hug.
‘Hey, dude,’ Dylan says, ruffling his hair.
‘Dad, Dylan is the coolest,’ Archie informs Rowan – much to Rowan’s annoyance. ‘He’s a rock star and he’s sold millions of songs and played gigs for loads of people and everyone at school thinks he’s the best.’
