“You can’t compare the two.”
“You’ve dedicated your whole life to something, too, haven’t you?Rugby.”
“It was the only thing I knew how to do.”
“And you do it really well.”
“What do you know about it?You know nothing about rugby.”
“True, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know who you are, how good you are.”
“Mmm… interesting.”I take another sip.
“I mean…”
The Doctor blushes, and I realise I have the upper hand again.
Let’s see how long you can keep it together.
“You’re not interested in rugby, but you are interested in the players.”
“That’s not true!It’s Chris, Evan and Casey’s fault!”
“No shit.”
“If Chris hadn’t met Ryan, if Evan hadn’t started playing, and if Nick hadn’t posed for those bloody photos.”
Nick did some modelling for a while, and those shots of him with his bare arse ended up everywhere.
“You really liked Nick O’Connor’s photos, didn’t you?”
“Come on!Did you actually look at them?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
I’m not amused anymore.Actually, I’m annoyed — no, I’m pissed off.I can’t stand hearing the Doctor talk about Nick O’Connor’s arse.
“Let me be clear: I’m not saying I like Nick O’Connor.He’s not my type.”
“And what is your type?”
Jamie, you’re so fucked.
“I don’t know,” he replies with a shrug.“I don’t really have a type.I know I can’t stand braggarts; guys who are all muscle and attitude.I hate arrogant men, who think you’ll fall at their feet just because they have a pretty face, a sexy body, and a quick wit.”
Yes, I confirm.Totally fucked.
That’s basically my description.
“Excuse me,” the barman approaches our table.“We are about to close.”
We both look at our watches.
“Sure,” the Doctor says.“We’re leaving.”
The barman leaves the bill on the table, and the Doctor grabs it before I can say anything.He takes out his wallet and hands him a note before he disappears behind the bar again.
“You’re always a gentleman,” I comment, finishing my beer.
