‘Who are you kidding, honey? You wouldn’t dream of missing out on that trip to New York, and we both know it.’ His eyes deliberately linger over my chest. He has absolutely no shame.
‘I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I’m still drunk.’ As if the dry mouth and headache weren’t enough of an indication. And my head isn’t the only thing that’s pounding this morning.
Callum makes himself comfortable, sprawling out on my unmade bed, continuing to taunt me.
‘Bet you didn’t think you’d have an Irish rugby player in your bed this time yesterday.’ He enjoys my obvious discomfort.
‘I’m warning you for the last time.’ I battle to keep a straight face, he is pretty funny.
‘Oh, Abby, please. Put me out of my misery.’ He pats the bed right next to him.
A weaker woman might cave. Not me.
‘I’m going for a shower. I’ll be out in five minutes. Do not touch a thing.’ I eye my weekend bag deliberately.
‘Don’t you touch anything either!’ he yells cheekily after me.
I stifle a laugh and shake my head in despair.
Returning from the en suite ten minutes later, my hair’s dripping wet, but at least I’m clean. Callum’s unusually quiet. In the time I’ve known him, he’s never once been stuck for a one-liner. I creep over to where he lies silently on his back, hands cradling his head. His eyes are tightly shut, the slow rhythmic inhalation of his chest suggests he’s asleep. I can’t help but stare. Even features and full lips gave him a boyish appearance, but the lines on his face reveal a rich history, all man. None of us get this far in life without accumulating a scar or two.
I sigh, unsure if I should wake him. After deliberating for a few seconds, I crawl under the covers next to him, exhausted from spending the night imagining this man in my bed. Now he’s here, all I’m fit for is sleep. It’s not exactly how my dream had played out. But it could only ever be a dream. I must add a clause into this deal of ours that when the fake dating is done, I’m the one that ends it. I’m happy to go to the wedding with him. Who knows, it might even be fun. But when we’ve both got what need from this deal, I need to be able to come out of our arrangement with my reputation intact.
I place a pillow carefully between us, separating the two halves of the bed and roll over, pushing all thoughts of any deal away, and rest my heavy eyes.
Pounding fists on the door jolt me from a deep dreamless sleep. I bolt upright, momentarily unsure where I am. Callum lies next to me, beaming from ear to ear. The cat that got the cream.
‘Well, at least I can officially tell the lads I slept with you.’ He winks knowingly at me.
‘You’ll do no such thing. A gentleman never kisses and tells.’
‘I never claimed to be a gentleman.’ He nods in the direction of the door. ‘Are you going to open that?’
‘Well, you better at least pretend to be a gentleman where I’m concerned. If we’re going to keep this charade up for the next three months, we’re as well to face it head-on.’ I pad towards the door, barely awake and more than a bit peeved at the interruption.
The girls bulldoze in, croissants and pastries under their arms, travel cases dragging behind.
‘Tell us everything,’ Karen begs in her usual high-pitched shriek. She looks decidedly more fresh-faced than me with a cerise floral hairband securing her locks in place.
‘Did you shag him? Was he any good?’ Emma demands details.
The interrogation continues long enough to provoke a low rumble of laughter from further inside the room. The three of them freeze, their expressions priceless. What I wouldn’t do for a photo.
‘He’s still here?’ Karen whispers outrageously, hands vaguely attempt to cover her eyes.
‘Good morning, ladies.’ Callum swaggers over to where they huddle outside the en suite in shock.
Emma’s the first to compose herself. ‘Callum, how lovely to see you again.’ Her voice drips like rich honey. I wish I had one tenth of her composure when it comes to men.
Callum kisses me on the head tenderly, barely acknowledging them. ‘I’ll call you later, sweetheart.’ He lays it on thick for our audience before walking out the door, pausing only to blow me a kiss. He’s exceptionally convincing. No wonder he’s so popular with the ladies. For a spilt second, I wonder why he hasn’t kept any of them? What is it that he’s looking for? He clearly hasn’t found it yet.
‘Holy mother of sweet divine.’ Karen clamps her hand tightly over her mouth, while every Catholic curse she knows dances from her tongue.
‘O M fucking G.’ Emma perches on the unmade bed. ‘Well?’
‘A lady never kisses and tells.’ I silently congratulate myself on behaving in a very ladylike fashion, for now at least, and help myself to a pain au chocolate, before flicking on the tiny kettle.
