I Unlove You Read Free Page B

never had
it? ”
    Leaning in and tapping my hand with two fingers, he
said, “ It doesn ’ t matter what sex
feels like. When music is perfect, nothing in the world comes
close. Not even Harriet Smith. ” Smiling, he arched his back and
gazed into the distance. “ One day, brother. One
day we ’ ll rule this world. ”
    Opening the heavy wooden door, a wall of chitter-chatter
hits me, groups of colleagues, friends, and couples enjoying
after-work drinks. It may be early in the week, but this pub, at
this time, in this weather, remains popular.
Joey ’ s early, already stood at the bar talking to the
barmaid. Only, she isn ’ t any old barmaid,
but the barmaid. The girl. Harriet Smith, the one
individual immune to Joseph Johnson's advances.
    For
as long as I can remember, he ’ s oozed charm and an
effortless swagger. Where girls call me cute and brother-like, they
swoon over Joey, hanging on his every word. Schoolgirls, teachers,
coaches, parents … it ’ s never mattered, he ’ s always had an
aura that ’ s continued to mature with
age.
    To all except Harriet Smith, that
is.
    “ Aus, ” he shouts, holding up his arms and
motioning me closer. “ Harriet doesn ’ t believe me when I
say she looks good tonight. What do you think? ” Keeping his arms
raised, his rolled sleeves reveal two defined arms flush with
tattoos. From this distance, it ’ s a chaos of ink,
but each line, word, and swoosh provides purpose and
meaning.
    “ Ermmm, ” I stammer, unsure how to
answer.
    “ For some reason she
doesn ’ t like it when I pay her compliment. How crazy
is that? ” he says, sliding a fresh pint of beer to me. “ Here ’ s round
one. ”
    “ Cheers. I ’ ve no
idea, Joe. One of life ’ s
mysteries. ”
    Rolling her eyes, Harriet shuffles along the bar. “ Keep this
one out of trouble tonight, will you, Aus? ”
    “ What he gets up to has nothing
to do with me, ” I say, as I enjoy my first sip of
beer.
    “ Why would you care if I found
myself in trouble, Harriet? ” Joey counters. “ I thought you
didn ’ t care what I got up to. ” He smirks and leans
closer to her. Harriet sighs and purses her lips.
    It is, apparently, this smirk that
drives women into an uncontrollable frenzy. I get it, in part,
because my best friend is an attractive guy. Six foot two, dirty
blonde hair he slicks to the left; thin eyes that house bright blue
secrets; strong cheeks and a defined jaw, and a full but groomed
black beard that defies his lighter hair colour.
    His smile, or should I say, lack
of, is apparently all he needs.
    “ It ’ s a dangerous
feature, ” said B , offering a female perspective as we strolled along
the canal a few years ago. “ Joseph has an
extremely dangerous smile. ”
    “ His smile is why girls lose all
rational thought? ” I asked, shaking my head. “ He
doesn ’ t even smile. He just … smirks and
pouts. ”
    “ Exactly. It ’ s
smouldering. ”
    “ Smouldering? ”
    “ Yeah. It creeps out the side of
his mouth. It ’ s effortless and
nonchalant, and full of mystery. ”
    “ You ’ ve thought about
this a lot, I see. ”
    “ You asked the
question, ” she said, kissing the corner of my mouth and working her
hand up and down my arm.
    “ Okay, so what
you ’ re saying is, girls love his smile because he
doesn ’ t have a smile? ”
    “ In a way, but
it ’ s more than that. It ’ s the way he squints
his eyes and bites his lip simultaneously. His whole face is in
cahoots, and he knows it all too well, ” she continued,
mimicking her words with her own facial features.
    “ Tell me about
it, ” I
said. “ So, what about my smile? ”
    She
wrapped her arms around my neck. “ The cutest in the
whole wide world, mister. ”
    The
way I looked at my best friend changed that day. No longer did I
see broody and moody, but a dangerous weapon that finds its way in
and out of daily trouble. It also confirmed my role in our
friendship: the cute one, the brother-like one. Except