“The Deputy Dean of my department. Can’t stand the…” I grin. “Fuckwit.”
“Another good variation,” Sadie approves, raising her glass. “So, why do we hate Mitchell?”
We.
I purse my lips. “He thinks he’s my boss, and he very much isn’t. Chronic mansplainer, patronising as the day is long, and slut shames me when nobody’s listening with suggestions that I traded sexual favours to climb the greasy pole. He’s just cross it’s nothisgreasy pole I’m climbing.”
“What a prick,” Sadie sneers, “and that’sdefinitelysexual harassment!”
I nod. “I caught him snooping on my work PC recently. Heaven only knows what he was looking for. Or maybe he was going to replace all the B words in my next paper with the word ‘boobs’.”
“Report his arse.” I smile at Sadie’s snarling, wondering what would happen if she and Mitchell ever met. I’m sure Peter would be thrilled.
“Put milk powder in his bed sheets,” Emily says quietly.
We both turn to look at her. “Sorry?” Sadie asks, leaning forward.
She takes a sip of her cocktail. “Break into his home while he’s out and sprinkle milk powder into his bed sheets. He won’t notice, and as he sweats overnight, it’ll embed in his pores and turn into cheese. And because it’s in his pores, he won’t be able to wash it off, so he’s walk around stinking of rancid old cheese for around a month while it works its way out. Nothing he can do about it.”
Sadie and I wear identical open mouthed expressions, and Emily cracks up.
“I never knew you could be so…evil. I love it.” Sadie’s eyes are alight with glee.
Emily smiles. “It’s something I’ve got in my back pocket in case Eli ever cheats,” she jokes.
I scoff. “He’s more likely to grow a unicorn horn out the centre of his head than get the horn for someone other than you.”
Her eyes soften, and she sighs. “Yeah, I know.”
“While we’re on the subject of men with mooning puppy eyes…” Sadie gives me a look. “What’s going on between you and Dean?”
Clang, there it is. “Er…” I’m not often at a loss for words, but holy shit, that was direct. But then, Sadie is clearly one of life’sstraight shooters. Emily gives me a sympathetic look, but she’s equally curious.
“I mean, we’ve all been dying to get the inside scoop.” Sadie crosses her legs and gives me her full attention, topping up my margarita glass. “Do you like him as much as he clearly likes you?”
I take a rather large gulp to prepare me for this conversation. “Yes,” I admit, because, hell, when do I ever get a chance to offload like this? And isn’t this what sleepovers have always been for, historically speaking: talking about boys? “I…god, I can’t stop thinking about him.”
“Knew it,” Emily crows, drumming her palms on her knees like bongos, “tell us everything.”
I glance at my phone next to me, and a quick tap of the side button confirms that I’ve let it go dead. Sighing, I plug it into the nearest charger and turn back to them. “Well… I don’t know what to say. We’ve texted a whole lot. And our appointments for my back have been so…” I shiver. “Heated.” I smile to myself at the dichotomy of shivering when talking about the heat between him and me.
“The karaoke night was interesting to watch,” Sadie pipes up. “You guys seemed to just…I dunno, be in each other’s orbit, or something.”
“And the forehead kiss…” Emily sighs. “I just about melted.”
“You’re not the only one,” I reply wryly. There’s a zing in my chest as I think of him. “It’s…complicated. Obviously. But I have to take things really slowly with him, because that’s what he needs, and if I want anything to happen, that’s how it has to be.” I bite my lip. “But dear holy fuckamoly, the slow build-up is playing havoc with my pink falafel, ladies.”
Sadie shouts with laughter. “Your what?!”
I grin at her. “My pink falafel. My mound of Venus. My two lipped tulip.” The three of us crack up. “I’ve always thought‘vagina’ is too clinical, and it only refers to the actual tunnel, anyway. I like to have fun with naming it. Like with the Sanskrit word,yoni- it means the whole thing, womb, vulva, vagina. But then Gwyneth Paltrow started the whole weird yoni egg craze, and now the word just makes me think of those and her vagina candles. So…pink giggle wagon it is.”
“Panty gerbil,” Sadie suggests through tears of laughter.
“I used to babysit a little boy who called it ajacket potato,” Em adds, going red in the face with mirth.
“Fur burger,” I say, clapping my hands.
“Only until my next waxing appointment,” Sadie winks.
