“What’s that mean?” Ollie asked. And the entente was gone. We’d lasted, oh, about fifteen minutes before it all went tits up. Ollie and Simon were both now yelling at each other. In the back of my mind, I was aware that this was mostly my fault.
“Pissing contest,” I muttered under my breath. Honestly, if they wanted to know which of them had the bigger dick, I could tell them.
“It’s none of your business!” yelled Simon.
“If it involves Arden, it is my business,” Ollie yelled back.
In the middle of this, there was a knock at the door. A sudden silence descended. Ollie’s eyes widened, and I could tell he was desperately trying not to look in the direction of the front door.
But all three of us did. “Are you going to get that?” I asked.
“Ignore it. They’ll go away,” he said.
Simon raised an eyebrow. “It might be your downstairs neighbour with more soup.” I blanched – he’d understood our conversation yesterday? Wait, could Simon speak Polish?
I looked over at Ollie. He was flustered. He kept looking at the door out of the corner of his eye but trying to stay focused on me. There was another knock. I spun on my heel and walked to it.
Simon watched me go even as he resumed trading insults with Ollie.
I opened the door and had the breath taken out of my chest.
In front of me, standing proud, was a handsome man. He was younger than me by several years and several inches taller. He was wearing an immaculate charcoal grey suit and a crisp white shirt. His black ringlets were cut close to his head. His mouth was wide, his teeth straight and white, and his skin was olive and perfect. The hands that gripped his work bag were large and led to muscles on his arm that were sculpted from hours in the gym.
And he looked pissed off as hell.
“You,” he snarled at me.
“Jamie,” I said. My stomach dropped to the floor. He stormed past me into the flat, and I was left standing too dumbstruck to move.
He reached the kitchen. I could hear him behind me start to yell at Ollie, and Ollie yell back, but I couldn’t bring myself to turn around. My feet were rooted to the spot. I couldn’t breathe.
Did this mean … yes, Arden, it meant that. That was the only thing it could mean. Slowly, I closed the door and turned to face what was coming.
Jamie was yelling at Ollie, who was desperately trying to get past him, towards me. But Jamie waved his hands and tried to crowd him. Simon stood off to the side, watching the scene with his perpetual scowl. He saw me and looked concerned. “Arden?”
At my name, Ollie managed to push past Jamie and made to come towards me.
“Arden,” he breathed.
“What is he doing here?” Jamie hissed before I could say anything.
“We were in the area,” Simon said amiably.
“I didn’t ask you; I don’t even know who the fuck you are,” Jamie spat out at him. “Ollie, did you invite him here?”
“Arden, I can explain,” Ollie said, his voice strained. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
“You cancelled on me last night for him?” Jamie asked.
Ollie opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. “Are you two together?” I demanded. Before Ollie could even answer, I turned to Simon: “Where are my manners? Simon, this is Jamie, with whom Ollie had an affair last year. Who he swore blind to me he hadn’t seen in months.”
“Excuse me?” Jamie yelled. “Just because he chose me—”
“We’re not together,” Ollie said, his eyes bearing down on me. He tried to move towards me, but I put my hand out to stop him. “It’s just – it’s casual, him and me. It’s just an arrangement.”
“Does he know that?” Simon muttered.
“Casual? We’ve been back together since Christmas,” Jamie snapped.
