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He looked shocked at my little outburst, but I just rambled on.
“As for that you-don’t-know-me bullshit, I know enough about you now to know you.”
“Okay…”
I could almost see his brain cells working beneath his matted, messy blond curls. He needed a shower. And a good meal or ten.
“You need a mate. I need a mate.”
“Fair enough.” This conversation was getting stranger by the minute.
“Toast,” I muttered.
“You’re a bit of a dick,” he retaliated. “I’m the one with the eating disorder.”
“Yeah, and I know shit about eating disorders. But you are in control here. You make the decisions. Wanna starve to death? Part two of our agreement. Mates don’t let each other starve to death. We just don’t. So, we’re going to be friends, and you’re going to tell me what you need, and I’m going to have your back on that matter too.”
“You’re bloody bossy.”
I had to laugh because he was right about that.
“I’ve never had anyone have my back,” he said.
“Well, you do now.” I had to take another breath. This was bloody exhausting.
“Well, apart from my sister and parents, but they’ve kind of given up on me. My sister keeps saying she’s waiting for me to hit rock bottom so she can go beat the shit out of Lewis for me. I’m…not going to let that happen." He looked embarrassed, and his face was all swollen and bruised, every word seeming to make him wince, but he kept talking. “You say that you know me because I’ve told you a few bits and pieces. I don’t know anything about you, apart from that you keep staring at me at work and you smoke too much.”
“Okay.” Yeah. He was right about that too.
“I think you also need to do some talking here. Quid pro quo and all that.”
I didn’t even know what to say to that. “What do you want to know?”
“Are you in love with Mark? Because from my corner, it looks like he’s with Finn and you’ve got a bit of a problem.”
God. I hated him. I wanted to yell,none of your goddamn business!but he kind of had a point, and I was a grown-up even if Mark kept calling me a big baby.
“I love Mark. Always have, always will.” Enough.
“Told you. Broken heart.”
“Not like that.”
“Yes, like that. And it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Oliver told me you’re so deep in the closet that you’re practically lost in IKEA. Totally repressed. I look forward to proving him wrong should you wish to enlighten me.”
He laughed. It was good to hear him doing so, but it made me suddenly uneasy. Truths were hard to swallow, even harder to spit out. Then he did that thing again, something I was realising was very Hugo. He shuffled slightly and put on that look of fake bravado. He was shit scared but tried to hide it.
“You can’t force people to be friends with you,” he said quietly.
“No, you can’t,” I agreed. “But I don’t see a queue of volunteers at the door waiting to sign up to be your BFF.”
“That’s really mean. And nobody says BFF. Unless they’re, like, thirteen years old.”
Yeah. I was way in over my head here.
