He laughed and reached over for the remote. “Let me introduce you to the best series ever made. Wait till you see this.”
I stood up. “I’ll go and sort some drinks.” Because I was going to need one. I stayed away from anything addictive. I’d heard my teammates talk about binge watching series until the early hours of the morning, or on the team coach, barely aware of where they were. I didn’t need something else to get obsessed with.
I poured us each a double measure of vodka, adding cola to Nate’s and soda to mine, with a dash of lime. I didn’t usually drink, but then neither did Nate, so I figured the least I could do was join him.
I carried the glasses over to the lounge where he’d started watching the programme. He paused it.
And I nearly dropped the drinks.
Frozen on the screen was an actress with eyes and a smile and a pair of tits I recognised without taking a second look.
I knew those eyes. They’d looked at me while I was having one of the best orgasms of my life. Those tits, I’d worshipped, and that smile was one I’d fantasized about seeing again soon.
“Who the fuck’s that?”
Nate laughed. “Now I’ve got your fucking interest. That’s Otter Penhaligon. She’s… Fuck man, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I managed to pass him his glass before half-collapsing onto the other couch and downing half of my drink.
“Ryan, why do you look like you need first aid?”
I downed the rest of my drink. No one knew about Otter. Or Mindy or Penny. I hadn’t told anyone, even Nate, about her. Nate knew I’d met up with someone in London, but he hadn’t asked for details or even an explanation, and I hadn’t offered one.
I couldn’t not tell him now. I had no idea what to do here. She hadn’t told me what she did as a job, just like I hadn’t said anything to her. She hadn’t lied, just like I hadn’t, but she had omitted the truth.
Just like me.
“The woman I met in London. That’s her.”
Nate’s jaw dropped and practically bounced of the floor.
“You’re fucking kidding. Otter Penhaligon? Jesus, Ryan, I know you’ve been voted top of the charts for most fuckable player or some shit like that, but this isOtter Penhaligon. Are you sure she didn’t give you a fake name?”
This was the most animated I’d see Nate since I’d joined Manchester Athletic.
“She did. We met in Houston, you know, when I got delayed in that tropical storm?”
“Hurricane. You got stuck in a hurricane.” Nate folder his arms.
I shook my head. “It was a tropical storm. For a hurricane, it needed…”
“And stop there. Just let us tell people that you were caught in a hurricane. Then let’s rewind back to where that’s where you first mether.” He pointed to the TV, where Otter was still frozen, tits on display.
I picked up the remote and turned it off.
I did not want Nate looking at her tits. Not in front of me.
“I stayed in her room. We were both heading back to England. It was a two night thing and we didn’t swap numbers or real names. She told me she was called Penny, so I said I was called Leonard.” I shrugged. I was really glad right now that Nate had brought vodka.
“A pop culture reference you knew? Fuck me.”
I lobbed a cushion at him.
“I only found out she was called Otter when I saw her in London.” I stood up and picked up my glass. “I need another drink.”
He followed me into the kitchen, mouth opening and closing like a fish, which I pointed out to him.
“Really? You’ve just told me that you’ve slept with Otter Penhaligon and you expect me to use words?” He made me another vodka, lime and soda, heavy on the vodka.
