CHAPTER 25
“Helloooo, Mike. Hello, Mike. Are you there? Over and—Uh, no, I don’t say that. Mike?”
“What is it now, Becca?”
“I need the loo.”
“You’re just saying that,” he said.
“No, I’m not,” I insisted. But I was lying. I didn’t need the toilet. I just wanted to get out of here.
“I don’t believe you,” he returned.
I dialed up my acting skills. “Pleeeease. I’m soooodesperate. I’m going to burst! Eeeeee.” I made a noise that was meant to mimic the sounds of a person with a full bladder. It was ridiculous and he probably wasn’t going to buy it. I didn’t buy it myself. I paused and waited. Held my breath. My heart thumped in my chest when I heard footsteps, long and loud and wide, coming down the passage towards me. I looked at the door when I heard the key slipping into the lock, and I jumped to my feet in anticipation. Key turning, door handle turning, and . . .
There he was.
He stood in the middle of the doorway—it framed him, as if he were some great painting. And, lo and behold, the bright florescent light from the passage was behind him again, creating the perfect silhouette. A thin strip of white light outlined him perfectly.
“Do you know that, whenever you enter anywhere, you’re always backlit? Do you have a lighting crew following you around, backlighting you for added drama?”
He looked at me blankly. “I don’t know what you mean.”
I stared at him and blinked. “Never mind,” I said. “It’s just ridiculous, that’s all! It adds to the whole mystique thing you have going on.”
“Mystique?” he asked, stepping to the side and into the light again.
“Yeah. You, appearing suddenly from thin air, and disappearing, too. All large and intimidating and . . . and . . .hot.” I said it before I could stop it.
His face scrunched up and he looked at me curiously, or was that suspiciously, or was that . . .Was he confused?It was cleared up pretty quickly when he opened his mouth and started talking.
“You know, Becca, you confuse me,” he said, his tone a little softer this time.
I folded my arms. “Ditto,” I said curtly, feeling somewhat defensive.
“So we both confuse each other,” he stated.
“Something we have in common, it would seem,” I replied. He looked at me for a while before speaking again.
“Here,” he said, producing a towel from behind his back.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Thought you could use it to clean up. You’re covered in—” he looked me up and down—“budgie shit and mud.”
“Pigeon!” I insisted.
“Pigeon, budgie. Budgie, pigeon.”
“Thanks.” I reached out and took the towel.
“I also put a change of clothes in the bathroom for you,” he said. “An old tracksuit. It will be too big, but I thought it would be better than what you’re wearing now.”
“Oh!” I was surprised by this kind gesture and didn’t really know what to say. “Thanks,” I mumbled, feeling guilty now.
“Shall we go to the toilet, then?” He moved out of the doorway and gestured for me to follow him.
“Sure.” I walked out defiantly.
