“I’ll call the police.”
“Good. They can put you in handcuffs and stay for the show.” Then he pulled her into a spine-melting kiss, and even though they were in public, she let it go on and on and on until she almost dropped their lattes.
That was another thing that had changed. She and Patrick had always touched each other—everyone gave them shit about it—but in the week they’d been hooking up, any and all restraint had disappeared. They held hands, hugged, kissed, and called each other by their nicknames. Two nights ago, they’d gone for a quiet drink at The Rose Hotel, and she’d ended up sitting on his lap. Soon, someone was going to film them and post it on Instagram or a gossipy TikTok account. Soon, everyone would know Patrick Normal had a girlfriend.
People at her work had already guessed she was seeing someone. Patrick kept sending her cupcakes and Pad Thai and fancy candles. Getting him to stop buying her gifts was on the list of reasonable complaints that kept getting screwed out of her.
Bridgette had been beyond pissed when she’d asked for a day off to go to New Zealand, but she’d known exactly why she’d done it. “Weekend away with the new boyfriend?”
“Helping a friend move,” she’d lied.
She didn’t know why she’d bothered. No one believed her. Aside from the gifts, she knew she had this… glow about her. Her mum had pointed it out the second she walked into her apartment after she and Patrick had sex that first time. Cheryl tried to pin it on a new vitamin C serum, but no one was buying it. No matter how bad she ate or how little sleep she got, her skin shone and her eyes were as bright as a bunny’s.
“KitKat?”
She refocused on her surroundings and realised she’d been led to the boarding area. “Are we… should we get on the plane?”
“It’s not time yet.” Patrick swung his backpack onto his chest and opened it. He pulled out a trashy magazine with Jennifer Aniston on the cover. “Wanna pretend it’s the 90s?”
“Oh my God, yes!”
It was a tradition she and Patrick had started at the dentist. After years of avoiding checkups they’d egged each other into booking back-to-back appointments at the same Richmond Dentist and gone in together. It had been less than a year into their friendship and they were still a little uncomfortable around each other. As terrified of awkwardness as she was of fillings and extractions, Cheryl had picked up an expired celebrity magazine and started reading aloud about Britney Spears marrying a Swedish prince. The story was padded with such obviously fake quotes she and Patrick had laughed until they cried. Now, whenever they were waiting around for anything, they brought magazines—the older, the better. Cheryl took the copy of New Idea that Patrick was holding, noting its faded corners and outdated hairstyles. “Where did you even find this?”
“My great-grandma’s place last time I was back home. I’ve been saving it. Can we do the fake-ass celebrity horoscopes first?”
“You couldn’t stop me from doing the fake-ass celebrity horoscopes first.”
And so she and Patrick sat in two uncomfortable airport chairs, cackling about ridiculous articles on Cher and John Travolta and Justin Timberlake until it was time to board Flight 812.
Patrick wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they walked through the tunnel to the plane, his palm eventually dropping dangerously close to her right breast.
“What?” he said innocently when she glared at him. “It’s my birthday.”
“Almost your birthday.” As she said it, her stomach churned. Tomorrow Patrick Normal turned twenty-four. The man banging her brains out and bossing her around was still too young to rent a car…
He squeezed her arm. “Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Thinking about how old I am. Focus on how this is a demo run for all the games I’m gonna fly you out to see.”
“I didn’t agree to that.” Although the idea sent a spark of excitement through her. She and Patrick were just messing around, but if things did work out, she’d be a WAG. An actual footballer’s girlfriend. She’d have to get a blowout…
Patrick kissed the side of her head. “Why don’t you think about what you’re gonna give me for my birthday?”
“I know exactly what I’m going to give you,” she said pertly.
At least in theory. She’d bought a luscious Dior cologne with her short-term savings. It had shrunk her petrol budget to nothing, but Patrick was forking out for this impromptu holiday, and whatever their status, she wanted to buy him something nice.
The other present was… well she wasn’t sure if she was going to follow through with it or not. She’d been milling through Passionfruit, the women-owned sex store, lamenting the cost of vibrators when she’d spotted the fluffy, pink kitten tail. She’d felt compelled to pick it up, stroke its softness, and examine the ribbed silver plug that would go inside her.
“That comes with ears!”
Cheryl had started as an assistant popped up from nowhere and dropped the tail back onto the table. “Uh, I’m just looking, thanks.”
“Cute pink ears on a headband, and a little collar,” the assistant shouted as though she hadn’t spoken. “And everything’s discounted!”
“Um…”
