The image of a dark-haired man with a wide, devilish smile filled my mind.
Stephen. He’d got the last word the evening before and it was driving me to distraction – literally.
I blamed the alcohol for inhibiting my ability to give him a snappy comeback. Of course I’d expectedhimto be disappointed –he’dactually wanted me to go over to his apartment for sexy times, whereasI’donly been engaging in innuendo via text to trick him. I had no desire to be another notch on his bedpost – the thing was probably whittled to matchsticks by now. I was so done with men who drained my time and energy and gave me nothing in return. And he…he…
Well, he was perfectly infuriating.
I rolled myself out of bed and stumbled through my bedroom door, around the couch into the kitchenette, where I fumbled a pop tart out of the packet and into my toaster oven. Next I went to open the window by my desk to let in some fresh air. My air con was on its last legs and until my next royalty payment arrived, maintenance on it had to wait. If things got too unbearable, it would be a job for my credit card.
‘Morning, darlin’,’ a husky voice called across to me as I pushed the swollen window up, the wood screeching.
‘Morning, Mr Biggins,’ I said automatically, not needing to check to see who it was. Mr Biggins lived with his wife in the next building, which backed onto mine. He was always sitting by his open window, smoking cigarettes. Watching the alleyway, he said. Waiting to cop an eyeful of me in my underwear more like. Once the window was open, I twiddled the blind so that he couldn’t see inside and went back to force my burnt pop tart down my throat. I should’ve gone out to source some better sustenance, my stomach was roiling at the thought of more sweet things after all those cocktails, but I couldn’t face the glare of the sun yet. Even with my blinds down, I was tempted to put on my sunglasses.
Blowing on my pop tart and still managing to burn my mouth, I collected my cell phone and notebook.
Beth: What happened?
Okay, I scrolled back, blinking – I really needed to check what I’d written to her first.
Me: Hey, just bumped into Cartwright, Stephen Cartwright.
He’s still an arrogant asshole, isn’t he?
Oh. Yeah. Now I remembered. I went to write a message:
Me: Any chance you’re free for a Skype chat?
She pinged me back almost immediately.
Beth: Gimme ten minutes and I’m there.
I forced myself into the shower quickly – it’s not like she could smell me, but it seemed only polite – and I’d just plugged my laptop in and sat down in front of it with a massive glass of water when the ring tone started.
‘Hello,’ Beth chimed once her image came into view on the screen. I avoided looking in the top corner at myself. She’d braided the front section of her hair and the rest was out, bouncing around as she waved at me. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Painfully.’ I couldn’t help but smile back at her as I rubbed my temples. ‘Don’t be offended but I’m gonna turn the volume down on you – I was drinking cocktails last night.’
‘Oh, don’t show off. I was serving the alcohol, rather than indulging in it. Pimm’s on the terrace for the Wimbledon festivities.’
‘Strawberries and cream too?’
‘Strawberries and cream. Strawberries on Victoria sponge, strawberries in the Pimm’s.Somany strawberries. I was slicing them for hours.’ She sniffed her fingers. ‘I don’t think that smell is going to ever go.’
‘There are worse things to smell of.’
‘True.’ She laughed. ‘So, you saw Stephen when you were out drinking these cocktails? Did he join you? What happened?’
‘Not much really. My text was probably a little over the top.’
‘You, over the top?Never.’ She feigned a scandalised look and I poked my tongue out.
‘Yeah, yeah. We just said “hi” and I asked him if there were any hard feelings and he brushed it off likeIwas the one who should’ve been disappointed that we never hooked up.’
‘I see. He does have this way of bantering that leaves you wondering whether he really means it or not.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I take it you’re not going to meet up for more reminiscing?’
‘That would be a no.’ I laughed and lifted my hair from the back of my neck. I’d left it wet after my shower, but it was already half dry and sticking to my skin.
‘That’s a shame. Nick should be doing some transatlantic flights next month. He was thinking of staying with Stephen for his stopover days.’
