“Okay,” she finally says. “Just . . . let me know if you change your mind.”
“Yeah, I will do,” I reply.
Except for the occasional navigational instruction from Megs, all four of us remain quiet until “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” plays through the speakers and I can’t help but howl along in baritone. By the end of the tune, everyone’s joining in with the festivities.
“What a joyous welcome to the UK,” Earnest says as he climbs out of the car. He tries to pay me like I’m a taxi driver, but I complain until he puts his wallet away.
I carry their bags into the foyer, leave the pair at reception, and utilise the few seconds of respite from Megan to come up with a plan. Pi is a plan type of guy, he’d already have everything figured out. I wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of my own actions if I’d taken a leaf out of his book.
Damn it. I’m at the car again and I’ve still got nothing.
I fold myself into the driver’s seat. Megan’s eyes bore holes into the side of my head.
“We going back to yours or mine?” I ask.
“Up to you, babe,” she says, because of course she fucking does.
Sven’s not leaving for the Netherlands until next week, and though he’s never much of a nuisance, I can’t be arsed to deal with him at the moment, but Megan’s flatmate will most likely be home and I don’t fancy the tag-team drilling they’ll give me about Pi.
“He’s just . . . I think he’s lonely,” I say instead of anything even remotely related to the conversation. I turn the key and start the engine again.
“Who is?” she asks.
“Pi. I think he just needs someone to be there for him.” Great, now she knows I’m still thinking about him.
“Okay?”
“That’s why I kissed him. At Halloween. He was standing there looking so sad in his little denim hot pants and his fat fucking tits, and . . . I guess I didn’t like seeing my friend sad.”
While partly true, I don’t enjoy seeing Pi miserable, there’s no way this argument would hold up in court. Take Snatch, for example. I’d never have kissed Snatch if he’d been the one moping around outside the pub on his tod, nor would I kiss any of the other Cents boys for that matter.
It’s only Pi. I dunno, there’s something deeper about him. Like we get each other in ways the other lads don’t. We’ve known each other for six years, so that might be it.
“So, you just wanted him to be happy?” she asks. She’s not buying what I’m selling, but I’m too deep into the haggle to give up now.
“Yeah, exactly.” I chance another look. Her expression isn’t as disbelieving as I imagined it would be. “I think he needs a girlfriend.”
“Or boyfriend,” she says.
“Or boyfriend,” I agree.
“Ooh, we could always introduce him to Georgia?” The way Megan asks, I know she’s already decided this is the best idea since sliced hot dog buns.
“Isn’t she going out with that guy from Bristol uni?” I ask.
“Oh, Simon? Ew, yeah, she is, but he gives me serious ick, and I want her to understand the grass is for real greener on the other side. Plus Aiden Campbell is fucking gorgeous. Makes Simon look like wilted spinach.”
“Okay . . .” I need to buy myself some thinking time.
What if Pi dated Megan’s flatmate Georgia? What if they went exclusive? What would happen then?
Would we have to stop our jizz-swap meet-ups? Or if we kept doing them, would we have to keep everything hush hush? Would the girls care if their boyfriends were secretly fucking?
Probably.
That’s probably something healthy relationships don’t accommodate. It’s not as though Megs and George are rendezvousing for a sneaky shag.
Or are they?
