I drop a fresh warm curl, letting it bounce in my hand. ‘What do you like about Jackson?’
‘He’s just very smart, you know. And look, I said I’d never date another rugby boy, but he’s ex-rugby, so all the bod and none of the lifestyle.’
‘Have you dated a lot of rugby players?’
In the mirror she catches my eye. ‘Babes, I’m a little slice and I live in South Wales. What do you think?’
We both laugh, and I love the throaty sound of her big laughs. ‘I’ll have to take your word for it. I feel like I’ve been out of Wales for so long. Things have changed and keep changing. I mean, two actors bought the local football club and now where I’d mooch round town as a teenager is all over Disney+. It’s so weird.’
‘Surely no weirder than filming a dating show for another international streaming service.’ She gives me a wink.
‘True. I think that part hasn’t hit me yet.’
‘Oh, it’s hit me like a fucking truck. Hence dragging you in here to be my lady’s maid.’ She blows air out her cheeks in one big whoosh. ‘I think this is looking good.’
‘I think we’re done,’ I say, pleased with my curling work. They’re not perfect, but they match the pattern Bridget had put into the rest of her hair without creating too much of a seam at the back.
Bridget cranes around, trying to spy the back of her head in the mirror. I look around for a second mirror to hold up behind her, but all I have is one of the tiny circle ones for plucking your eyebrows. I make do, and hold it up for her. ‘I knew I should have snuck in one of my big mirrors from work.’ She grunts frustratedly. ‘Oh well, I can’t see. I’ll have to trust you. Luckily, I do!’
She hops up, and doesn’t quite place a kiss on my cheekas much as kiss the air next to me, so as not to disturb our makeup.
‘Your turn.’
Bridget is so gentle at undoing my hair and brushing through it that I almost fall asleep. ‘I’m going to put some heat and product into it, give you some body,’ she says confidently, and I let her do whatever she wants to.
Bridget is beautiful, but I feel no fluttery feelings from her stroking my head. I’m not getting confused by our friendship or our closeness. I can think she’s stunning and like her a lot, without mistaking it for more.
And I thought all that about Dolly, in the beginning, before I got all tangled up in my confusion and her lies.
I just have to remind myself that this is what a normal adult female friendship is. You can be close without it being romantic.
I don’t really have any close men friends other than a few of the guys at work, and I would never be so touchy-touchy with them. So all the physical intimacy I’ve had with men has been with men I’m dating.
Maybe that’s why I got so confused with Dolly. I couldn’t separate out the crush. And given I find so much social stuff confusing, it’s no real wonder I got that all mixed up in my head.
I feel calm under her touch. You’re supposed to feel comfortable in a friendship, not nervous, and Dolly made me so nervous sometimes. Was that a red flag I missed?
Luckily, I can’t see any here. Bridget and I are close in age, but most people would think I’m younger from the way we dress. She’s in a white tailored two-piece – a crop top paired with long flowing trousers belted with a gold buckle. Before I got here, I thought that my mustard jumper with short sleeves tucked into a goldenrod plaid circle skirt looked quite smart,but now I’m worried it makes me look like I teach arts and crafts to forest creatures.
‘Should I ditch the tights?’ I murmur, as I look at my reflection.
Bridget scrunches up her lips as she gives me the once over. ‘No. You look likeyou.’
I get up and grab a very important accessory from my wardrobe. ‘Will you still say that after you help me pin this beret in place?’
She laughs and takes the matching hat from my hands. ‘Of course. He’s going to love you. I bet he already does.’
I watch as Bridget presses a few hairpins between her lips, and gently sets my beret over my hair, tilted a little way back so it doesn’t close up my face.
Even now, I’m looking at her lips and I feel nothing, even though Bridget is an objectively beautiful girl.
And sure, there’s men whose lips I could probably look at too and not feel anything, but that’s different. Being attracted to men never came with a side serving of dread that I was doing something wrong.
I guess that’s a change. The last few years, I’d have been too rattled by terror to even do that for long, too worried that I was going to get found out. Now, I feel… nothing.
That’s one thing I owe Dolly for – she’s shown me the boundaries of my own attraction to women. What I’m supposed to do with that knowledge, I don’t really know. It’s not like it’s relevant to me, especially if I want to marry Patrick, is it?
‘Why are you staring at my lips, babe?’ says Bridget.
