1Hardman:Put down your own rugs. That’s your job, love. Pull a finger for once.
DarkAleOrDie:Thank God that’s done. THAT BOSSY WOMAN. THAT VOICE. Right little madam, that one.
LaIslaBonita:And yet you will watch the entire show. Because you love to be a woman-hating twat.
GirlBossesDoItBetter:Tabs works with the team including Tim every step of the way, and the team love her. And she has a beautiful speaking voice, you prat. Get a freaking hobby and stop dragging women.
LlamasRLife:Llama watches the world and bides his time. Stardom awaits.
LlamasRulez:Llama is true Buddhist. No attachment, no craving. Lives fully in the moment.
46
Tim
Tabitha had beengone for two days, and I felt off. We kept missing each other’s calls and her text replies were short, but I knew her time wasn’t her own. She was tracking the Wainwrights for a week, writing up the interviews, and with another film crew hovering, it wasn’t like she could just slip away when she wanted to.
After rugby practice, I didn’t even stop to take a shower at the clubrooms and shoot the shit with the guys over a beer. I had to get home and squeeze in a video chat with her. Damp with sweat, I arrived back at Mum’s flat. I called out a quick greeting to her and realized she was at the pool with Macy for an evening swim, so I raced into my boyhood bedroom and locked the door.
Still standing, I stripped off my damp shirt and video-called Tabs.
She answered in full makeup, her hair in these big, fat curls I wanted to wrap around my fist, and wearing a tight dress the color of the river shallows in summer, under what I recognized as a work blazer.
“Hey, Tabs.” My heart flipped stupidly at the sight of her on the screen.
“Well, look at you being all thirst trap with your shirt off,” she said. “Is this for my benefit?”
I smirked, which probably revealed that the bare chest was preplanned.
“And look at you all dolled up,” I said.
“Yep, I’m off out. Another dinner, darling.” She sighed theatrically and checked her red fingernails.
I chuckled but felt a stab of jealousy that she hadn’t dressed up for me.
“Take off the jacket,” I growled out. “I want a better look at you.” Without questioning my request, she shrugged off her work blazer. The sky-blue dress was low-cut and hoisted up her boobs, and the material made her look like she was all wrapped up like a gift. “And the back?”
She did a twirl and wiggled her bum at my phone, giggling, probably at how bold that was of her.
Her arse in my face. A great end to the day, but I stopped myself from saying that out loud. “Have I seen that dress before?”
“Just got it today from one of the shops at the mall. Had to up my game because tonight is their fanciest restaurant. But it’s stretchy so it feels good, and I can order the famous mashed potatoandthe chocolate soufflé.”
Again, this was all happening without me. I didn’t like how my chest went tight.
“So, do you like the dress?” she asked, uncertain now.
Internally, I kicked myself. She shouldn’t have to prompt me. This interview was a triumph for her. “Fuck yeah. You look hot.”
“It’s called a bandage dress, which actually doesn’tsoundthat hot.”
“Doesn’t matter what it’s called when you wear it. You look stunning. I just wish I were there.”
She blushed pink, and her hand flew to her throat. “Oh, Tim, I wish you were too. Believe me, I’d rather be going out with you.” She gazed into the camera with a sigh, sending an explosion of warmth into my chest. That made me feel better, calmer.
Christ, when did I get so desperate and needy? Get it together, man.
I tried to force myself back into some semblance of the confident male she’d signed up for. “Hey. So.” My voice was low and scratchy. “I’ve been thinking about you all day, Tabitha Balfour.”
