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“None of your business,” I tell him. “Why don’t you go and ask one of the desperate, dateless soccer mums to go dancing.” I pretend to watch the game. “Or Strawberry Shortcake. She’s always up for a good time.”
He narrows his eyes, knowing exactly who I mean.
“Who’s Strawberry Shortcake?” his mother whispers under her breath.
“Julian’s rude work friend.”
“She’s not rude. It was a business meeting,” he defends.
“She’s more than just the nanny,” I offer sarcastically.
Julian fakes a smile.
“I’m lost,” his mother whispers, thinking only I can hear. “Who’s stupid?”
“He is,” I reply.
His father smiles at the field, entertained by our conversation.
“Oh, because putting the jerseys in the dryer is so intelligent.” Julian sneers.
I glare at him and squeeze his mother's arm. "I'm sorry, but in Australia, we can put our jerseys in the dryer. I'm not used to these United Kingdom inferior products… or men."
His father chuckles again as he looks at his phone. “Oh, I see. Strawberry Shortcake is a doll from the eighties with red hair.” He holds the phone out to show us.
Julian rolls his eyes, and I bite my lip to hide my smile. Has his father really being Googling Strawberry Shortcake all this time?
“Julian?” A
woman calls from the other side of the field. We look over and see a woman smiling and waving in an exaggerated manner.
He fakes a smile and waves back.
“Good grief.” His mother sighs. “These women are unbearable.”
“They’re a perfect match for him,” I mutter as I watch the game. “Julian, go over and stand with her so she doesn’t come over here talking, please.”
Julian’s mother giggles and taps my arm that’s still in hers. “Oh, I really like you, Brell.” She glances at Julian. “Are you sure you two can’t go dancing tonight?”
“Positive,” we both say at the same time.
I need to get out of this conversation. “I’m going to get a coffee. Anyone want one?” I ask.
“Yes, please,” Julian and his father both say.
“I’ll come with you, dear.” His mother smiles, keeping her hand tightly linked through mine as we walk across the fields.
“Who’s Strawberry Shortcake?” she whispers.
I roll my eyes. “You’re very nosey.”
“This is true. Go on.”
“You can’t tell him I told you.”
She crosses her fingers over her chest. “God’s honour.”
“I went out with Julian last night as a friend.” Her eyes widen in excitement. “You did?”
