“I used to be so cocky about stuff like this. Now I feel all weird. It’s just sex.”
“It’s new and exciting and will eventually be wonderful. We’re still getting to know each other.”
Then there was a bang upstairs. Footsteps.
“Did anyone come back last night? I never heard Cal.”
“I did,” Peter said, like this was normal. “I stayed up until he got in. He made quite a racket, on top of this already haunted house.”
Steps upstairs making everything creak.
And someone booming down the stairs, hair everywhere and flimsy shorts. Like he’d rolled out of bed in a panic.
“Dad, that’s my hoodie. Again, use the washing machine! I leave clean clothes here for a reason, not for you to run out of tops and just steal whatever is in my closet!”
“But your stuff is nice!” Peter. He made me laugh. Also, he looked hot in that hoodie.
“And then you start as well, Ollie.”
“No, I don’t. I’m wearing all my own stuff. Promise.”
“Those socks look suspicious.”
“They’re just socks!” I squealed. Well. Maybe. I’d just picked them up off the floor earlier. Ugh. He rolled his eyes at me and crossed his arms.
“There’s like a big black Merc idling outside. Like proper posh.”
“Not anyone we know,” Peter said calmly. “It’s probably someone for Mrs Patel.”
“Really,” he mocked, like that was a complete grasp at a straw. An invisible one.
Hence, he walked over to the front door and flung it open, standing there in his gym shorts like it was nothing.
“Hello.”
I knew that voice. A little too well, and the panic inside me was back with a vengeance.
Gina.
“Absolutely not happening,” I said sternly, getting up in shock, almost tipping the chair over. Then I stood there holding my hands out in front of me.
“Nice greeting, Oliver. Thanks for that. I rescued your butt from a major shitstorm back there, and that’s all the thanks I get?”
She winked.
I still panicked. Everywhere.
“Hello, Gina,” Peter said, walking up and air-kissing her like this was some kind of weird trap. An over-produced movie with bad actors and an even more insane plot. Because real? This was not. We might as well have Mary’s ghost join the party and throw a few pans across the room.
Not that I believed any of it, but one of the saucepans was, once again, on the floor in the corner.
I just stared at them. Then stared at Gina as she walked up and air-kissed me as well. Mwah. Mwah. Smelling of heady perfume and still wearing sunglasses. Which she then took off and folded. Slowly, as she turned to Cal.
“Calvin,” she said, all fresh-faced. No make-up. If I didn’t know better, I’d barely have recognised her.
“The one and only.” He grinned.
“Follow you on Insta. You’re all grown up.”
