‘You thinking what I am?’ he says.
That you’ve pinched my scarf and said nothing about it?
‘I don’t know. Maybe.’
‘That the only loos we can access are on the other side of these doors.’
Ah, that.
‘And we may as well go and get a coffee.’
‘Right. Coffee. Yes. Good idea. I’m definitely needing to pee.’
Sensing a dampness under her arms due to her oversharing, Heather tries to stand up elegantly from her seated position against the wall, but after nearly an hour of waiting, her legs appear to have seized. Scott hooks a hand under her arm and pulls her up.
‘Um. Thanks,’ she says.
‘No problem.’
Scott stuffs his gloves and hat in his pocket and is about to put the scarf around his neck when he glances at her.
‘Err, Scott?’
‘Yup.’
‘Is that my scarf?’
SCOTT
Plonker. Idiot. Moron.
What should he say?
I don’t know?
No, definitely not?
Or the truth – yes, it’s yours, and I’ve kept it secretly for weeks because it feels so soft and it smells divine.
Weirdo. Stalker. Pervert.
‘Umm. Umm. Dunno. Might be. Not sure. Why do you ask?’
Brilliant response. Smooth. Suave.
‘I lost mine a few … A few weeks ago. And I guess … well … it looks similar.’
Scott pulls it from around his neck.
‘Here, you can have it if you want.’
‘Uh … Uh …’
He rams it into her pocket.
‘Keep it,’ he says. ‘I’ve got lots. I’m pretty sure Brianna’s getting me one for Christmas, anyway.’
Because she knows I stole yours and won’t give it back.
