The Gentleman Has Left the Building Read Free Page A

“But he did kiss
me.”
    Great.
Everyone’s getting some but meeeee. “If you got off with him, why
do you look so miserable?”
    “Because…” She
leaned forward on her elbows, and there it was…ahh. A teeny
crescent of pink areola just peeking out of her top. Harper was
such an ace room-mate (hey, a bloke can look). “Because now it
might all be ruined.”
    “Pretty sure
kissing doesn’t fuck up a relationship.” I swallowed two fat
paracetamol with half a pint of water. Hangover cure stage one: in
progress. “Fucking somebody else--that fucks up a relationship.”
The fridge offered ingredients with a knowing hum: sausages, bacon,
eggs. “That’s if you have a relationship, mind. Processed meat
products?”
    “Eugh, no.
Can’t stomach it. I’m too on-edge.”
    “More for me,
then.” All I needed now was a cold glass of Coke, and my magic
formula was complete. “So where do you two go from here with your
little game? Did his balls explode when you sent him packing?”
    She gave a
nervous laugh. “That’s just it though. I wasn’t the one who said we
should just kiss. He was.”
    “You discussed
how far you were going to go before you even started? Did he print
out a contract and make you sign in vag juice?”
    “Rhys.
Jesus.”
    “Sorry.” The
bacon hit the pan with a rough, lardy sizzle and I stood on tip-toe
to wedge the window open. “Just seems a bit…well. Like the pair of
you are seriously over thinking all this. Now I can understand you,
after what happened with Bitch Face and Cock Wad--but him?”
    “I suppose he
might be rebounding too,” she said slowly.
    “Hey. We are
not rebounding. It’s been six months. We’re…works in progress.”
    “In fact, what do you know about him? You’re apparently best mates, all of
a sudden. Tell me everything about Nathan. Everything!”
    The sausages
hissed at me as they were turned in the pan.
    “Well. Let’s
see. Um.” What did I know about him? “He doesn’t talk about himself
very much.”
    She put her
laptop aside--goodbye, semi-nipple-and strode over to the fridge.
“But he didn’t mention a girlfriend? Or kids? A woman of any
description?”
    “He mentioned
you a fair bit,” I said. “That’s all I remember. Will you do me
some Coke as well, please?”
    It frothed into
glasses with a comforting, carbonated gasp.
    “So.” She leant
back against the fridge, drink in hand. “Let’s hope kissing hasn’t
screwed up the balance, and he still wants to…whatever it is we’re
going to do. Sex, maybe. I hope it’s sex.”
    “If it is, will
you give me a heads-up first so I can go out?”
    “Shush. What
were you talking about last night, anyway? Apparently, you’re a
rapist called Hannibal…?”
    That would be
when I crawled along our corridor on my hands and knees, groping
about the carpet like it had directions printed in Braille. Yeah.
Last night was kind of shameful. I really wasn't myself of
late.
    But there was
nothing for it, really, and nobody who could give me better advice
than Harper. So over a heap of greasy brunch, I told her about
Nicole; how I’d been watching her in the park for weeks, how I had
absolutely no idea to talk to a stranger (let alone seduce her),
and how Aidan had left my teeny chance at a less-than-jaunty
angle.
    Harper grinned
like an evil pixie. “Nicole? Papa!” She sniggered. A French
snigger.
    “Look. Stop
laughing at me. The first girl I’ve really like for ages, and it’s
over before--”
    “--It even
started. You said last night. But that’s not strictly true.” She
patted my arm in sympathy. “You should try again. What do you have
to lose? If she still thinks you’re a weirdo, there are other
places to go running. Think of it as practice. I’d never have gone
near Nathan if he didn’t start the proceedings, so to speak. You’ve
got to start being that guy.”
    “But why? Why
do I have to do all the running, literally?” I whined.
    “Because you
want to get laid. Being