“Oh yeah? How?” His eyes sparked, just the tiniest bit. This would have been the perfect time to say something flirty like,You’ll have to wait and see, or something obscene like,On my knees, with my tongue on your . . .Because now I knew Alistair was a man who liked dirty talk in the bedroom.
But we’d agreed not to ruin this, and I didn’t exactly know what that meant. So, I simply said, “With pie. You should take the rest of it with you.”
He groaned. “You’re a dangerous woman, Lang.”
And as I laughed, sweeping into my bedroom to change and then check on Teddy, I felt like one.
22
Alistair
Are there narcotics in this pie?I hadn’t even hesitated before texting Isla, my mind still reeling from what had happened on her sofa. She was in my nose. In my lungs.
Isla: That was fast.
Isla: Better than swamp juice?
Music pulsed on the other side of the wall – barely audible, like she was making an effort to be quiet. I pressed my ear to it, recognising the soulful saxophone opening of Pink Floyd, though I couldn’t remember the title of the song.
Alistair: You know it is.
Isla: I’m not sure it’s good enough for the contest. Apple feels a little boring.
Alistair: Did I mention this is the best pie I’ve ever tasted?
Isla: I’m convinced it’s the only pie you’ve ever tasted.
I knew the conversation should end there. That I should let her get on with her evening. Paperwork waited for me on the kitchen table. But the taste of apples was fading from my mouth. The high from those hours with her fading along with it.
My thumbs moved independently from my brain.Turn it up.
The ticks turned blue.
The music crept higher. No more than a decibel.
Alistair: Higher.
It grew louder, and I laid out on the bed, satisfied as the lyrics became audible.
My phone buzzed.Didn’t take you for a Pink Floyd fan.
Alistair: I’m not. I only recognise the song because I went on a date to a Pink Floyd planetarium show.
She replied quickly.Your pick or hers?
Alistair: Mine. Kind of. I got the tickets from a colleague who couldn’t attend.
Isla: Gasp. A hand-me-down date.
I smiled, and typed,Even worse, I’d forgotten the date was even happening until thirty minutes before.
The wall muffled her laugh.Really selling yourself as a boyfriend here.
I cared about little beyond work back then, I typed then deleted. Because what? Now I did? Was that what I was trying to say? I settled on:Keep your expectations low, Lang.
Isla: Did she like it?
Your date I mean, she added on a second later.
