‘You wouldn’t what?’
‘You know,ridehim.’ Overtly rocking her hips, she gestures with her arms.
‘Oh,root him,’ I answer, using the Australian slang for sex. ‘You wouldn’t root him!’
‘That’s a God-awful euphemism,’ she says with a sniff. ‘Root is the thing that grows on the bottom of old veg, or maybe something you should do for your sports team.’
‘You barrack for your team in my neck of the woods. If you root for your team in Australia, you’d end up in a wheelchair.’
‘Sicko,’ she retorts sharply.
‘What’s got into you?’
‘Nothing.’ She sighs and folds her arms. ‘Nothing without batteries, anyway.’
Perching my bum on the edge of the bed, I ignore the unwanted insight. ‘I don’t understand. What do you think the problem is? He’s obviously into you, so why hasn’t he...’Put out? Or put it in?
Her folded arms rise and fall with an accompanying sigh. ‘He told me over the phone he wants us to be “friends,” ’ she adds, doing that inverted-comma-air-finger-thing. ‘So I’ve decided he can kiss my fine Irish arse.’
I arch one eyebrow again and quickly catch the action, annoyed by the frequency of this developing habit. Imitation may be the most sincere form of flattery but, sod it, I have enough bad habits of my own.
With an even deeper sigh, she throws her back flat against the mattress. ‘Truth is, he’s been avoiding me since that night. You know, when Matt . . .’ Her mouth twists in distaste and I nod; my first fantastic night with Kai and her not so incredible dealings with vomit on new shoes.Seems like an age ago. ‘I think I might have come across as a bit rabid after that.’
‘Could he playing hard to get?’
‘He could be I suppose, though that’d be a new one on me.’
‘I find it hard to believe he doesn’t fancy you all of a sudden, especially after the way he was at the club.’ The arm touching, the stroking. Though that was mainly Niamh, but he seemed to enjoy being the recipient. ‘See how today goes before you totally write him off. Let’s see if we can inspire a bit of summer loving. We’ve sun, sea... well, pool,andsangria.’
‘How’s that going to help, get him drunk and take advantage? I’m not sure I’m that desperate just yet.’
Ignoring her, I carry on. ‘And you’re a total hottie in that bikini, if he doesn’t see it, he’s definitely peeking out from behind the wardrobe door.’ Making vague circles with my hands, I add, ‘Just look at those Irish charms.’
‘I think you’ll find the usual term iscloset. And I’m pretty sure he’s not a bum-sex aficionado.’ She makes no effort to hide her belligerence. ‘And, what, am I feckin’ cereal now?’
But at least she’s smiling. A small smile but it’s there.
‘Maybe I need to add vodka to the sangria ‘cos you won’t dazzle him with that attitude. Fine, don’t be your sparklingly witty self, if you can manage tocontainyour effervescence.’ I slap her leg for emphasis and pull her reluctant form up by the arm. ‘What about you force his hands, flirt with someone else? You could flirt with Matt.’
‘I might be shooting myself in the foot there, they are roommates after all. Second, Matt has a thing for you, not that it’ll do him any good now that Kai’s mad for you. And three, your sangria’s shite, vodka or no. I’ve told you, adding food to cheap wine doesn’t make it palatable.’
‘Piss off, I didn’t use the cardboard stuff this time!’ My indignant tone trails off in a mumble. ‘And let’s not count my chickens just yet.’
Kai has me tied in knots both in the literal and figurative sense, but who knows where this will go. Declarations have so far been limited to lust, like and a lexis of control... which kind of turns me on... which I’m not going to think about right now.
‘Wine soup isnotnice, eejit,’ she laughs, almost begrudgingly. ‘And how many times have you seen Kai now? I dunno about chickens, but I’m pretty sure he gets first dibs on your eggs.’
‘Eww. And yes, okay, I’ve seen a fair bit of him.’
‘I’ll just bet you have, dirty girly. Up close and personal, too. Come on, tell Auntie Niamh all about it!’
I try my best to ignore her innuendo but smile in spite of this. ‘I do think he’s great but he’s so... God, I don’t know!’ I roll my eyes heavenward, not ready to tell her about my kicking him out the other night.
‘Broodingly handsome? Spectacularly ripped? Abso-fucking loaded? And best of all, he kicked that shite Shane to the curb, so he gets heaps of points for that from me. Cop on, chick, you’re complaining your diamond shoes are too tight. Next you’ll be moaning you’ve no space in your wallet for all the fifties tumbling out.’
‘You’ve changed your tune, what happened tostay away from the strange Arab man, Kate?’ I waggle my fingers mockingly to compliment my mysterious, not to mention highly amusing, tone. Well, I think it’s funny. ‘Keep your knickers on,’ I continue. ‘Don’t put out!’
‘Yeah, well, I can’t go giving advice if I can’t pull my own shit together, can I?’
