“So, err, how did you two meet?” Hannah asks, still with wide eyes.
“At work,” I reply.
“I’m a copywriter at HNO,” Charlie adds.
“You’re actually head of copy at HNO,” I correct him.
“But that makes me sound old and boring,” Charlie protests, looking at me.
“You are old and boring,” I joke.
“Well, that must make youyoungerbut just as boring.”
Hannah coughs and it pulls our attention back to her.
“I think I need a drink. Do you know if the bar is open yet?” she asks me.
“No idea, but by all means go find out,” I say with a smile I know she’ll immediately recognise as far too sweet to be natural for me.
“Come on.” She pulls Sally’s arm as she goes, who smiles at us somewhat apologetically.
“Hannah seems… nice,” Charlie says carefully, not removing his arm from my back.
“Hannah is in shock you have testicles,” I retort.
Charlie’s head drops to look down at his body. “Shit, they’re not hanging out, are they?”
I stop my smile before it fully forms. “No. It’s more the fact that you are a testicle-wielding man and here with me.”
Charlie’s face creases in thought. “I’m pretty sure that’s borderline transphobic but I don’t know if that’s on you or Hannah.”
“Probably both of us, so thank you for pulling me up.” I nod, solemnly.
“So, do you think she’ll get over me not being a woman?”
“You know what,” I say, looking up at him again and trying harder than ever to ignore how comfortable I feel tucked in his hold. “I don’t give a flying fuck.”
I think Charlie is going to say something equally damning or witty or silly but he doesn’t open his mouth to speak, instead his lips move to accommodate another huge cheek-creasing smile. And I don’t care that we now have to keep up the pretence of actually being on a real date. I may even be a little bit pleased.
Fuck, no!No, no, no.I don’t want to be pleased about that. I don’t want to be pleased about anything to do with Charlie Atkinson at all. I don’t know exactly how I’ll do it yet, but I need to stop Charlie and his ridiculous smiling lines and kind eyes affecting me.
Right now.
“Do you also want to go get a drink?” Charlie asks me.
“No,” I say quickly. A new lacerating pain is starting to pound behind my eyes and I groan internally. I cannot have a migraine attack now. I cannot.
“How about some food, or is it too early to attack the buffet?”
“Too early,” I snap back, wishing he would just take his arm away from my waist. And yet, I’m not moving away myself. What is wrong with me?
“So, what would you…”
“Jesus, Charlie, just chill, will you?”
There, I snapped at him, twice. That should do the trick. And yet he doesn’t move away. He doesn’t even look that bothered as a quick flash of concern creases his brow.
And guess what? I feel even worse than I did when I was panging.
