“No, don’t think she’ll want more.”
“You haven’t got a problem then, kid. What you squatting?”
We carried on the weights session, turning the music up loud until Rowan came in, calling the choice of tunes and sticking on some of his indie shit. Jesse was quiet, but his mood seemed to get better with a heavy workout. Rowan was in his usual cheerful state, which he had been ever since Dee had accepted his (third) proposal.
“You two both need to get laid.” He looked from me to Jesse, his Geordie accent thicker than usual. “I can highly recommend it.”
“Fuck off, Rowan,” Jesse growled from the lat pull down.
Rowan just belly laughed.
Maybe he was right though; I did need to ‘get laid’ for the first time and then moving on to having a relationship would be easier.
I wasn’t sure which head I was thinking with, or whether I was overthinking it. Kitty had been so casual about it, offering it as a solution just like she’d offer a choice of soya milk or oat to someone who was lactose intolerant.
I knew she dated. She’d talked about some of her boyfriends since I’d known her, but none of them had ever been a major point of conversation. She didn’t encourage them to see her at work, and I’d only met the singer a couple of times. I’d never known her heart broken, although I had seen her pissed off at something they’d done. She’d gotten rid of them shortly after.
I was going to do it.
Literally.
I found her attractive, at least, I knew I did now. I hadn’t thought of her that way until she’d mentioned it yesterday. Now my thoughts kept drifting to her breasts and how they would feel under my hand, how her nipples would respond to my touch, how she tasted between her legs – all of that stuff I had done with my ex, and I had done enough thinking about it since.
A lot of thinking.
Enough to make me so nervous my balls were trying to climb back inside.
Kitty wasn’t working today in the café in terms of waiting on customers. She was sat at a table, going through a menu and what looked like Neva’s – our nutritionist – notes. Neva promoted protein shakes and smoothies, but her recipes usually tasted worse than an unwashed jock strap – yep, I’d had one flung in my mouth after a match – so Kitty would make them more drinkable.
She looked up when I came in and gave me her usual smile, no different to normal. Maybe she’d forgotten about our conversation or was hoping I’d forget.
There wasn’t much chance of that.
Her hair was down, long and silky and dark, falling over her shoulders onto a geeky T-shirt that was so her. Her lips were slightly chapped, I could tell, and I wanted to run my finger along them and tell her she was beautiful.
She was.
I’d always known it. Jude had made enough comments; he’d even asked her out a few times although she’d always said no. I’d thought she was out of his league.
I’d thought she was out of mine.
She was independent, successful, determined, together. She didn’t need flattery or to be bought, she was her own woman.
I think that was what made her feel so out of my league.
“Hey. How was your workout?” she asked as I sat down next to her.
I nodded. “Good. Heavy. What are you up to?”
Her smile was sweet. “Sorting out the new menu. I’m meeting Neva in an hour to visit a new restaurant in town. You still coming round tonight?” Her eyes held more questions in them than what she’d asked.
Do you want to do this?
Do you want me to be your first?
What topping do you want on your pizza?
I nodded. “About eight?” I needed to see my mum and brothers first. I’d promised the boys I’d play some football with them and drop off the club’s new home shirt.
