Chapter Nineteen
ELLA
‘Jules, I got accepted!’
‘You what?’ Her response sounds tinny, as if she’s stuck in a tunnel somewhere.
‘I got accepted to the course!’
‘Well, of course, you did. Did you seriously think anything else?’
‘The way this past year has gone? Yes.’
‘Well, congratulations, daft arse. You’re on your way to becoming a moulder of tiny minds. And your first assignment, should you accept it, is to teach your young charges how to pronounce the word espresso.’
‘Okay.’ The word borders on laughter. ‘I hope there aren’t many four-year-olds familiar with espresso or else they might be bouncing off the walls. And is there any particular reason?’
Jules sighs. ‘I’m just having a bad day, I suppose. It’s not normal to want to disembowel someone with a sugar stirrer just because they keep sayingexpresso, is it?’
‘Hmm, probably not,’ I answer diplomatically.
‘Maybe I should become a teacher, too,’ she adds glumly.
‘You’re just having a crappy day. You love your job.’
‘I love the predictability of numbers. They do what they’re supposed to. People, on the other hand... Well, they get on my tits.’ We both end up laughing at this. ‘So how’s hot dad treating you?’
‘Oh, you know. Okay?’
‘Why are your words pitched high enough for dogs to hear?’
‘They are not!’
‘They are so,’ she sort of squeaks back. ‘What’s going on with you?’
‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing.’
‘Absolutely bullshit. Last time we spoke, you said hot dad was, well, hot. Has the heat ramped up? Maybe caused some clothes to fall off... maybe?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Have you been playing hide the sausage?’ Her tone suggests pointing index fingers, narrowed eyes, and smiles.
‘Can I just take a moment to say sausage, as a suggestion, is a little... juvenile. And perhaps not appropriately sized?’ I can’t help it—I feel like shouting my happiness from the rooftops! I’ve been accepted to the degree I want to study, and a hot man wants me!
‘You lucky girl! So you’ve seen the goods? I’m guessing it didn’t fall out of his boxer shorts by itself. Come on, if we’re not talking weiner size, whatarewe talking? A black pudding? A salami?’
Lord of the phallic symbol, help me, because I’m thinking about Mac’s dick. How do I describe it adequately? ‘It’s like the. . . Alexander Skarsgard of penises.’
‘Is he blonde?’
‘No. So it’s like the Al Skar D without the Scandinavian thing. Think big, broad, and beautiful.’
‘You’re making me jealous. So. How did it happen? How many times have you played hide the salami?’
‘Well, we haven’t.’
‘You haven’t?’ she repeats with a completely different intonation. ‘You’re just... comparing undie contents?’
