My thoughts exactly.
The waiter arrives with our drinks. As Mike takes his whisky he nods at the waiter. ‘Thanks, man. Hopefully this one isn’t as watered down as the last one.’
Yeah, he’s definitely rude. So rude my family might actually quite like him.
Mike suddenly stretches his back, standing up from his chair. He places his hands on his hips and pushes his crotch in my direction, making the bulge in his trousers even more noticeable.
‘I’m just a bit stiff,’ he tells me.
I purse my lips, trying desperately not to laugh – or look.
‘So I, erm, I’m going to Australia next week,’ I tell him.
‘Oh yeah?’ he replies. ‘I’ve never been, not sure it’s my thing.’
Funny, because he looks like he’s got the didgeridoo for it.
‘It’s my first time going there,’ I reply. ‘My sister is getting married. The wedding is going to be huge, and fancy, and I stupidly lied about having a plus-one to take with me, to save face, and now I don’t have one, so it’s going to be so embarrassing…’
Mike raises his eyebrows.
‘So, you need someone to go with you?’ he says. ‘Someone impressive.’
‘Yeah, but I have no idea where I’ll find someone last minute,’ I reply. ‘I know it’s a free holiday, free booze, free food – but it probably sounds too good to be true.’
He leans back in his chair, the cogs in his brain clearly turning.
‘You’re telling me all the drinks will be free?’ he checks.
‘Yep, all night long,’ I say with a heavy sigh.
Mike’s eyes light up, like he thinks he’s just won the lottery.
‘I could come with you,’ he tells me.
‘You could?’ I reply, like the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.
‘What’s the deal though?’ he says. ‘Do I get to share a bed with you?’
I almost choke on my drink.
‘It’s more of a friends thing,’ I say plainly – I don’t think there would be room in a bed for the three of us anyway.
He nods, seeming to consider this.
‘Yeah, if I’m being honest, I’d rather have the free holiday than a night with you – no offence.’
I can’t help but laugh.
‘None taken,’ I assure him.
Now I’m more convinced than ever that he’s packing a cucumber, because for all the work he’s doing to shove it in my face, he isn’t all that keen to actually show me it. Not that I mind, I hasten to add.
Mike reaches under the table and visibly adjusts himself. It’s almost like he’s daring me to comment on it.
‘Well, I may be willing to help you out,’ he says with a smile. ‘I just need to pop outside and make a quick call first.’
‘Okay,’ I say, watching as he takes his phone from his pocket and walks away.
