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She says this with a tone that suggests there is no incorrect way to put things in the bins.
‘You’ve absolutely put the bins out wrong,’ I inform her. ‘The different coloured lids are for different things.’
‘Oh,’ she says simply. ‘I thought you were just being extra, with the jazzy colours.’
Unreal.
‘Let’s go see Mum and Dad then,’ she continues, unbothered by the bin situation. ‘And Kenny, I’ll see you later.’
‘I’ll catch you up,’ I tell her. ‘I need to sort these bins, or I’ll get fined.’
Jess just rolls her eyes.
‘See you around, Kenny,’ she says as she walks off.
‘Yeah, I’ll see you later,’ he calls after her.
While it is true that rules about what can go in what bin are strict, that’s not the main reason I’m hanging back, there’s a different kind of trash I need to get rid of first.
‘She seems great,’ Kenny tells me once we’re alone.
‘She seems like none of your business,’ I tell him, sort of confusingly, but he knows what I mean. ‘I’m warning you, Kenny, stay away from my sister.’
‘I could try and stay away from your sister, but I can’t promise she’ll stay away from me,’ he tells me with a wink. ‘Have fun with your bins.’
Once he’s gone, I grab the general waste bag that Jess put in one of the recycling bins, lean over the fence, and drop it inside Kenny’s recycling bin. I instantly take it back out, though – it’s not the environment’s fault he’s an arsehole. Instead, I put it inhisrecycling bin because, ha! That will show him. He’ll be sorry, when his recycling fills up over Christmas, and he has to find somewhere else to put it. Then again, he does live on his own, and he doesn’t appear to be doing much to celebrate. Petty revenge isn’t what’s important right now, not when it comes to Kenny; my issues with him aside, I can’t watch Jess become another notch on his post-divorce bedpost – if there’s any post left. Kenny must have so many notches by now it must seem like he has a termite problem, and I’ll bet that’s not the only sort of bugs he has in there, and… and I need to calm down. I can only tackle one randy family member at a time, so my priority has to be making sure there’s nothing going on between my parents.
Just when I think things can’t get any worse, there’s always a horrific development that proves me just how wrong I am, and my parents getting back together would most definitely be horrific. I haven’t asked for much this Christmas but if my parents could stay divorced, I would really appreciate it. I wonder how many kids put that on their Christmas list?
14
After swapping phone numbers with Rocco before I left his hotel this morning, I feel a lot more confident about turning up to this evening’s event, knowing that I’m not walking into a room of strangers, with no idea what I’m getting myself into.
Location noted. At least now I can tell the police where to find your body. x
I roll my eyes at Jess’s message. Since I didn’t come home last night, she has decided that, to make sure I’m safe, we should share our locations with each other over the Christmas period. To be honest, it’s not a terrible idea, so I’m happy to do it. Although I do hope she doesn’t turn up anywhere I am, just to be nosy. She would never let me hear the end of it if she knew I had populated my Christmas calendar with events from a dating app. Not only would she find it hilariously sad, but she would probably want to come along for a laugh, and the last thing I need is competition from a younger, prettier, more outgoing and easy-going version of myself.
I’m hovering outside the building in town where tonight’s event is taking place. It looks like nothing more than an office block, but apparently the cooking competition is taking place in here – even if we’re in the wrong place, this is where Rocco and I said we would meet. It’s another cold evening. I can see my breath in the air and the end of my nose is starting to feel numb.
A few people walk past me and head inside. They’re chatting loudly, having a laugh, their excitement clearly visible. I think I recognise one or two of them from last night’s event. It seemed like a shame, that there aren’t many Matcher users in this area, so not many people creating and attending the events but, realistically, how many men do I really want to benotfancied by, all in the one room, at the same time? It’s actually quite nice that we aren’t a huge group. Seeing the same faces at the same things feels a bit like school, in a very strange way, although no one really fancied me at school either, so perhaps it isn’t that strange that I’m getting a similar vibe.
‘Hello, Billie,’ Leila says as she greets me.
‘Hello, how are you?’ I ask brightly.
Other than Sid (who hopefully won’t be coming this evening, if it’s a drink-free event), Tobias and Leila are the only people (apart from Rocco, of course) who I’ve spoken to, so it’s nice to see a friendly face.
Leila stands next to me for a moment. Her face doesn’t look that friendly today.
‘You know what, I’m not doing great,’ she replies.
‘What’s the matter?’ I dare to ask – I instantly wish I hadn’t because something about the look on her face makes me think it might be my fault.
‘I liked you when I met you,’ she begins.
Oh, boy, it’s going to be like that is it? She met me less than twenty-four hours ago. I didn’t think I was interesting enough to have turned someone off me so quickly. Then I remember dropping the bowling ball on her foot.
‘I know what this is about,’ I interrupt. If I can get ahead of the issue, and show her that I’m sorry, and that it was a genuine accident, perhaps she’ll come around. ‘I didn’t mean to do it.’
