We’re both hungry, so once we’re sat at the table we inhale the first couple of slices instead of talking.
“I reckon they could have fit more meat on here,” she comments, pointing at a cheesy patch. “See, right there. They could have fit a whole slice of sausage.”
I chuckle. “I’ll take that piece. You clearly need a lot of meat to satisfy you.”
My eyes widen as I realise what I just said. She bursts out into loud, unabashed laughter that rings around the office.
I join in, and we both have tears of mirth trickling down our faces. “I can’t believe I just said that.” Possibly the most fucking apt thing Icouldhave said.
“I can’t either,” she gasps, “that was hilarious.”
I bite another slice in half so I can’t say anything else stupid.
“So, you gonna have to make the late night up to your girlfriend?” Her tone is casual, but the way her eyes flick to the side to look at me gives me the crazy idea that she’s trying to figure out if I’m single.
I point at my mouth and roll my eyes, chewing and swallowing as quickly as I can. “Nah,” I say eventually, “no girlfriend.” I don’t miss the way she hastily smothers a smile by taking another bite of pizza.No. I must be imagining things. I decide to make conversation to move things swiftly along. “All that’s waiting for me at home is my Netflix watch list.”
“Hmm,” she says, wiping the corner of her lips, “what’s on it?” I’m not sure how she does it, but she somehow manages to talk with her mouth full in a cool way.
I make a face. “Promise you won’t judge me?”
“Promise,” she says, leaning forward a little, eyes gleaming with interest.
I manage to pull my attention away from that gorgeous blue-green colour and back to the present. “Ah…true crime documentaries,” I admit with a sheepish look. “Not a serial killer myself, I swear, but I just binge watch them.”
Her pretty mouth drops open. “Shut up! I LOVE true crime! I think I must have watched every single one on NetflixandPrime.”
As if she wasn’t already perfect enough…
She turns more fully to face me. “Oh my god, did you see that one, what was it called…Abducted—”
“…in Plain Sight? Yes,” I laugh as she bounces in her seat.
“That bit with the…” She makes an obscene rhythmic gesture with her hand that I cannot help but grin at.
“Right?!” I’m getting animated myself. “I honestly thought my hearing aid had malfunctioned, cos he couldn’t possibly have said what he said!”
She giggles, and then tilts her head to one side curiously. “So it’s just the one ear?”
Best get this out of the way. And I like that she asked me directly without beating about the bush. “Yeah, just this one.” I point to my left ear. “I was born with it. Genetic condition, hence the anosmia and colour blindness. It’s all linked.”
She nods, blithely accepting. “So you weren’t spared the caterwauling at office karaoke last month?”
I chuckle. “Nope. Got the full Faith Stilwell singing Heart of Glass experience.”
She cringes as she giggles. “I’d had too many daiquiris, OK?”
I hold my hands up. “No judgement, I promise.” Truth be told, I loved every second of her tipsy, flat singing, because her enormous smile as everyone laughed and cheered was gorgeous.
“Good,” she says, grabbing another slice of pizza, “Cos you’re still my hero from this morning. I’d hate to have to kill you to destroy those memories.”
I’ve never been anyone’s hero before. It feels as new and wonderful and odd as having a libido.
I’m hooked.
Faith
“Shitballs!” For the third time, when I launched a browser on my laptop, it goes to a bloody ad site instead of Google, and the amount of pop-ups I’m going to have to shut downagainis insane. “What the actual fudge…” In spite of my love of inventive swearing, I try to say ‘fudge’ at work, though ‘shitballs’ is fine.
