Fuck.
He’s right.
She must have felt like shit.
She was being vulnerable, and I bailed on her.
“You need to reply,” Tom says, nodding toward my phone, still in Oliver’s hand.
“Here, give it to me,” Will says, reaching to snatch it from Oliver.
“No!” Oliver and I yell at the same time. Before I can react, Will dives at Oliver. Oliver grunts as Will manoeuvres behind him, putting him in a chokehold and quickly swiping the device from his grasp. Will shoves Oliver forward and leaps over the back of the sofa, standing triumphantly. He thrusts out his arm, holding it aloft.
“I know what I’m doing, James. I’ve done this before,” he announces, pulling the phone down from mid-air as he begins to type away, pacing back and forth.
“You better not, Will. I swear to God,” I warn, pointing at him.
“Just trust me,” he insists, his head down as he continues tapping away.
“Mate, I’d sooner trust a priest in a playground than trust you with messaging a woman,” Tom retorts.
I pull the back of my hair. “What the fuck are you saying? Why are you typing so much?”
“I have to get it right,” Will replies.
Oliver remains seated, rubbing his temples as if trying to stay calm.
Will steps around to stand in front of the sofa, a proud look on his face as he hands me my phone. I tap the screen, lighting up the text he sent, and read it.
“Oh, Jesus,” Tom says.
“Will,” I say sternly.
“Mmm?”
“I’m going to fucking kill you.”
“What did he say?” Oliver asks, turning towards me.
I thrust the phone in Oliver’s direction, and he takes it from my hand, squinting to read the message.
His eyes widen. “You’re a fucking idiot.”
“What? What did he say?” Tom asks.
April
I wring my hands, nervous for James’s message, when my phone lights up.
“He’s written back,” I say, glancing nervously at Anna and Gemma.
Gemma reaches out and places her hand gently on my forearm to steady my nerves. My heart pounds as I swipe up to unlock the screen and open the message. As soon as I do, my face falls.
What.
The.
Fuck.
