Page 58 of Connectio
“Okay, okay.” She giggles. “Spoil sport.”
Imbecile Barbie finally unlocks the door.
Will goes to climb into the back but stops. “Jesus! Is this a Matchbox car? It’s not even big enough for my balls.”
I glance at the backseat; he’s right. “Wait! You sit in the front; I’ll sit in the back.”
He peers over the headrest. “Not sure that’s gonna be any better.”
“Stop dissing my Suzi and decide where you’re gonna sit,” Carly says.
We swap positions.
“Watch your head,” I blurt out, worried as he squeezes into the front seat, me sliding into the back behind him.
The car grows silent until both Carly and I crack up laughing.
“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” Will shuffles. “Laugh at the big guy all curled up like a turd.”
“You’re not having a good day, are you?” Carly asks him.
“Besides the fact that my balls are lodged somewhere in my gut and my head’s about to explode, the day’s been pretty fuckin’ good actually.”
I can’t help but smirk at his response.
“Good? Why’s that?” Carly gently accelerates then glances over at me, her brow crumpled. “He hit his head, right?”
“He did.”
“How’s that a good day?”
“Because your roommate finally agreed to go out with me.”
“What?” Drama-llama Barbie slams her foot on the brake, stopping before exiting the car park.
“Jesus, Carly! Be careful. He has a head injury.”
“Sorry.” She pulls an oopsies face then glances back at me. “You’re going on a date with Will?” A huge smile spreads across her face. “Like a real date, one that might end in sweaty hot sex?”
Will opens his mouth first. “Yes—”
“There’ll be no sweaty hot sex,” I say, setting him straight.
“Yes, there will.”
I hold up my hand. “I’m not even going to argue with you about this.”
“Good,” both he and Carly say simultaneously.
Groaning, I deliberately headbutt the window. What have I gotten myself into?
* * *
We dropWill off at a cosy mud brick home in Diamond Creek, which is only twenty minutes from our place. He invites us in, but I decline, suggesting he get as much rest as possible and to ring—no matter what time—if he feels unwell. As intriguing as his home appears—because it reminds me of a Disney cottage, nestled at the base of several gigantic gum trees—all I want to do is get home, throw on my PJs, and snuggle with Sasha. So much happened today, and even though I never hit my head, it feels ready to explode too.
“So how’d that come about?” Carly asks as she pushes our front door open after unlocking it.
I squat, ready to catch Sasha should she miss. “How’d what come about?”
