Page 32 of The Tartan Thesis

Usage: To describe a foolish or contemptible person; generally vulgar

“It hurts,” I say with a wince, taking another bite of cottage cheese and chasing it down with a slice of apple. Beau has me on a strict meal plan, and I am not enjoying it.

“What hurts?” Freya asks over speakerphone. I’m alone in the flat, so I can be noisy.

“Everything,” I tell her. “Beau was not gentle with me.”

“I thought you liked it rough,” she says, and I can hear the smirk on her smug face.

“Not what I meant, Freya,” I say, though I’ll certainly save that mental image for later. “I mean that he’s forgotten what it’s like to be a beginner in fitness.” Beau and I have worked out together twice now, and I’m sore all over. Every movement seems to wake up a new muscle that wants to complain about it.

“I’m sure you’re not the first virgin he’s broken in.”

“Freya!” I yell, cheeks heating.

“What?” she asks, cackling. “Are you saying he’s inexperienced?”

“Well, he’s never had a boyfriend before, so maybe?”

“Wait.” Her tone changes instantly. “I was just kidding. Did the two of you actually fuck, then?”

“No! He’s a colleague. I’m not doing that again,” I say. “And get your mind out of the gutter!”

“If my mind didn’t live in the gutter, it’d be homeless,” she quips.

“You’re ridiculous,” I tell her.

“And yet, you still love me.”

I smile. “I do.”

“And you want to date your colleague,” she says.

“Freya, no!” My voice shoots up an octave. “Even if he were interested in me—which he absolutely isn’t—I still wouldn’t date him. It would be too weird, and you know I need to focus on my research.”

“But you are interested in him.” It’s not a question.

“What are you on about, Freya?” I ask with a sigh.

“You said he’s not interested in you, but you didn’t say you weren’t interested in him. That makes me think you do like him, you just won’t pursue it.”

“Nah, he’s not the eejit I once thought, but he’s not my type,” I say, which is patently untrue, partly because I don’t have a type, but if I did, Beau would be it. He’s incredibly attractive. But also kind, smart, muscles, dimples… All good things. But I can’t date a classmate again.

“I’ll pretend I believe you,” she says. “For now, anyway.”

“Keep believing me,” I say, trying to sound assertive. “It’s not gonna happen.”

“Right,” she says skeptically. “Well, he’s taking you to the gym, but what are you doing for him? You said you’re supposed to learn from each other?”

I force more cottage cheese down my throat and grimace. “I’m going to take him to some historic sites,” I say. “I’m going to plan our first excursion in a bit. Some of the tourist sites in Edinburgh. He hasn’t even been to the castle.”

“You’ll be the best guide he could ask for,” she says, and for the first time in this conversation, I don’t detect any sarcasm.

“Are you actually being supportive right now?” I ask.

“Of course, ya daftie. I’m your big sister. I’m always cheering you on.”

“We’re twins, and I’m almost a foot taller than you.”