Chapter Twenty-Nine
In the dark of the taxi, an uncomfortable silence prevails. Street lamps wash Matt intermittently in a sickly orange hue as I fiddle with the clasp of my purse, so not in the mood for conversation after his less than smooth move.
‘You didn’t mind sharing a cab, did you?’ Matt asks, unnecessarily loud. ‘I thought maybe they needed some time alone.’
‘No, that’s fine. It’d be good to see them work this out,’ I mumble, grabbing my phone.
‘He’s a little shy, even though he seems like this loud-ass sometimes. I think she’ll be good for him. You wanna grab a drink with me sometime?’
And here it begins.
‘Yeah, thing is, I’m kind of already involved.’
‘The boyfriend back home? After the phone call, you know, I figured that was done.’
‘Yeah, that’s over.’ I’m sure he doesn’t need confirmation; he was there when I yelled as much down the phone to my mum. ‘Actually, I’ve started to see someone here.’
‘You move quick.’ This comes on a breath of a laugh. ‘Do you work with him or something? Where’s he from?’
‘I met him through work.’ Well, that’s not a lie. ‘And he’s kind of from here, an Emirati, I mean. You’ve already met him.’
‘Huh.’ He says nothing else for a beat, then, ‘Not that guy at the hotel, the real smooth one? Tell me to mind my own business, only—’
‘How about you do that,’ I snap, not sure how my angry gaze translates in the near darkness. ‘Look, we’re here.’ I shove a fewdirhamnotes in the front seat and scramble for the door.
A shower rids me ofeau de breweryand I grab a pair of PJ’s from the ever growing clean laundry mountain at the end of my bed. They’re bright pink and cute, especially if you’re five years old, dotted with cartoon ducks, their speech bubbles decryingquackersin lurid lines. As a character reference, this might be spot on, but at least they don’t smell like booze.
A hoodie hangs at the end of my bed. I slip it on as I head to the sofa, curling against the arm. I’m agitated, my mind racing over the things Essam said.Probably because it makes no sense. Restless, I grab my book from the table, reading the same paragraph again and again without making sense of the words. I begin to peel the pages apart, those stuck together from the soaking at the pool.God, I feel antsy. Chucking it down, I plump a cushion for my head before deciding to alter the thermostat. Goose-flesh dapples my legs, the air conditioning in this place seems to have only three setting: off, Saharan or Arctic. I usually leave it set to the latter as I don’t like sitting in a pool of my own sweat. Making a mental note to complain to maintenance tomorrow, I go back to my bedroom in the search for warmer clothes.
My yoga pants hold a distinct whiff of recent take-out, so I grab a pair of footy socks and slip them on and up over my knees. Last time I saw socks like these, a witch was wearing them. She was also wearing a house, but I’m cold and this isn’t a fashion parade. I pull on my ugg boots for good measure and turn on the TV, selecting the Middle East’s version of MTV. Arabic pop videos are so much fun, it’s like the eighties revisited; big hair and the aura of cheese. I love guessing what the song is about, not that it’s difficult given that Arabic pop seems to be universally about love. Happy love, angsty love, unrequited love, child love...no, not like that. Families and children. They’re big on love, plus they make me smile. Settling my head against the cushion, I decide I’ll watch for a while.
A buzzing sounds in the distance, like a horsefly trying to escape from a window, bashing its bulk against the glass. Pulling the cushion over my ears, I complain the noise is hurting my head as it becomes one long, insistent sound, a bit like a fly spinning on tiles in the final throes of death.
My body jerks abruptly, wrenched from sleep as I realise it’s the doorbell.
‘I’m coming,’ I grumble, rubbing sleep away. ‘Ouch, shit!’ I bang my shin against the coffee table, stumble, hop and continue to the door.
‘Wha... Kai?’ I lower my leg, my sleepy self trying to get a better grip on this reality. ‘Ithought you were away?’
‘I was. I know it’s late... ’
The husky timbre of his voice sends shivers across my skin. God, that mouth. Those lips. I want to kiss them, take the plump flesh between my teeth and—
Think in words, not pictures. Form a sentence, girl!
‘Are you going to invite me in?’
‘What? Oh, yeah.’
I step back and Kai steps in, tie hanging slack from his open collar, a light stubble covering his chin. At first glance he looks loose, and gorgeous with it, but there’s a definite tightness around his eyes. Not entering the room fully, he leans back against the wall, his body almost crowding me.
‘How’d you get in?’ Walking further into the room, I pick up the remote, interrupting some smoky-eyed singer shaking her groove-thing. ‘I came in behind one of your neighbours.’ He gestures to my book on the coffee table. ‘Bedtime reading?’ he asks with a smirk.
Picking up the trashy novel, I fold it into my arms, hiding the butt-crack cover with my hand.
‘I was aiming for a bit of literary induced bliss.’
He snorts, gaze lowering, where he frowns at my feet. ‘Whaton earth arethose?’
