“But the other stuff?” she asks.
I shrug, raise my hands in a surrender gesture, and Megan’s laughter blasts through the pub.
“Sometimes it makes me so sad that I’m attracted to men,” Georgia says, even though she’s smiling.
Megan places a hand on her bicep. “Girl,” is all she says in response.
I’m not sure what Megs means by that, and it’s probably best I don’t dwell on it for too long. Not that I would anyway. Thinking in general isn’t exactly my jam sandwich, and I want to chat with Pi alone before I lose him for the rest of the night to Georgia’s small talk.
“Okay, I’m going for a piss,” I say, pushing out of my seat. “Megs, get the next round on my card, yeah?”
“Oh, I’ve got it. Next round’s on me,” Georgia says, and she and Megan do some shuffling so Georgia can get to the bar.
When I arrive at the bathroom, Pi’s still standing beside the urinal, but he’s not peeing. He’s on his phone, his face crumpled into the deepest frown I’ve ever seen on another living being. He hasn’t even noticed my arrival.
“What’s up, princess?” I say, pulling up to the urinal next to his.
“Oh, shit.” He flinches, and glances around the space. But we’re alone. I wouldn’t call him princess in the presence of others. That’s a “private us” thing. His shoulders relax. “Nothing. Nothing . . . it’s . . .” He scrapes a hand down his face, closes his eyes, shakes his head, looks towards the door, and stashes his phone in his back pocket. “It’s nothing.”
“Okay, pard,” I say. I try to keep my tone neutral and pretend I’m focusing all my attention on peeing.
“It’s just . . . my mum,” he says. I still don’t look at him for fear of scaring him away. “She’s drunk. Obviously. The only time she ever calls me is when she’s drunk.”
“What time is it in Perth?” I ask.
“About six in the morning, but she left me some voice messages a few hours ago.” He one-eighties and marches towards the sinks.
I pee faster, then catch up to him.
I almost don’t want to ask, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to tell me, but I feel like, as a friend, I should.
As a friend.
As more than a friend?
“What did she say?” I wash my hands, and watch him in the mirror.
“Oh, just the yoozh. To let me know my brother’s been nicked again, that I am an endless disappointment, and that I shouldn’t bother coming home for Christmas this year.” He closes his eyes and angles his face away from his reflection.
My instinct is to hug him, wrap my arms around his shoulders and push his curly blonde head into my chest. I don’t do that because even though I’ve had my fingers inside him, it feels like that might overstep a boundary.
“Were you planning on flying back for Christmas?” He hadn’t mentioned this to me, but I suppose there was no reason for him to.
Pi heaves a massive sigh, faces forward, and fixes his hair. “No, because we have a match on the twenty-eighth. But that’s the whole point. She knew I wasn’t coming home, but it has to be on her terms. It has to be her denying me the invite, rather than the other way around.”
“So, what are you doing on Christmas Day?” I wipe my hands on my jeans.
He shrugs. “Eating nachos, switching off my phone, watching Heated Rivalry.”
“By yourself?”
Pi turns to glare at me, one hand on his hip. He says nothing, but his expression screams,“Who the fuck am I supposed to spend it with?”
“No.” I mess up his hair with my fingertips. “Pack your bags, princess. You’re coming to Cornwall with me for Christmas.”
One side of his face cracks into a smile, and he just stares at me. “Can I bring Trekkie?”
“Let me double check with my mum, but I don’t see why not.”
