‘He said I’d better not sleep with you and then, quote: “act like my usual heartless self”.’
I raise a questioning eyebrow. ‘What did you say to him?’
‘I told him I’d take penetration off the table, but everything else was fair game.’
I laugh in spite of myself. ‘You really know how to pour fuel on a fire.’
He smiles. ‘I couldn’t help it. I love him, but he’s so easy to wind up.’
‘It’s sweet he’s worried about my feelings.’
‘He’s worried about his balls. He knows Tig would rip them right off if he dared stay friends with a man who heartlessly defiled you.’
I laugh again. ‘He’s really got the measure of Tig.’
‘In all seriousness, I’m sorry about earlier in the shed. Heat of the moment and all that.’
‘You’ve got nothing to apologise for. I fully participated.’ I pause, unsure if I should go on. ‘After what Rich did, it was nice to feel desirable.’
He holds my eye. ‘Glad I could help.’
‘I should go to bed,’ I say.
Before my resolve wavers, Idon’tadd.
I start up the steps.
‘Nella?’ I turn around. ‘Don’t ever think you’re not desirable. If you ever asked, I would heartlessly defile thehellout of you.’
I’m surprised to find Pen dozing on the sofa, her towel doing little to stop her sopping swimsuit from dripping on the floor.
‘You okay?’
She looks startled. ‘Oh, sorry, I meant to sit down for five minutes, and I must have fallen asleep.’
‘Do you want me to help you up to your room?’
‘No, I’ll be fine. Is Mark still in the pool? Do you think we should wait up to make sure he’s safe?’
‘We saved him yesterday. If he’s going to drown two nights in a row, that’s on him.’
Chapter 41
I’m in the supermarket with Pen and Mark, trying to find all the drinks that Tig requested. She was very insistent that we were doing cocktails tonight and not ‘boring wine like a bunch of middle-aged wankers’.
‘Gin, vodka,’ I tick off my list, as we walk down the spirit aisle. ‘What else?’
‘I guess one of the darker spirits,’ says Mark. ‘Whisky? Southern Comfort?’
‘Maybe both?’ I reply.
Mark grimaces. ‘God, I can feel the hangover already.’
‘Oh, live a little. It’s our last night,’ says Pen with the confidence of a uni student still blessed with an excellent tolerance for alcohol.
‘We’ll get soft drinks, too,’ I say. ‘We need them for cocktails, anyway.’
After we’ve paid and lugged everything into the boot, we’re back in the car. I’m sitting in the passenger seat with the AC turned up to max, and Pen is in the back, glued to her phone.
