Page 43 of Stanton Adore

BUZZZ BUUUUUUZZZZZZZZZZZZ BZ, BZ, BZ, BZ, BZ. It’s still pitch black in my bedroom—those expensive drapes were worth every cent. It buzzes again. For Pete’s sake. Alright. I pull my weary ass out of bed and stagger to the foyer. I hit the door button to unlock my front door as I head to the bathroom for my morning wee. I hear Bridget come in and I instantly yell to her.

“Why are you up so early? Did you wet the bed? Make me some coffee, bitch, and you can forget it. I’m not going to Mum and Dad’s this morning.” I look at my watch on the bathroom vanity. “Bridget, it’s only 7:30 a.m. Have you gone frigging mad?” I know why she’s here so early. She thinks I’m a donkey on the edge and, to be honest, she could be onto something. I feel scattered.

She doesn’t reply. I hear the teaspoon hit three times on the side of the coffee cup. I waltz out of my bathroom while stretching and yawning. I feel like shit. I open my eyes from my stretch to see Joshua standing in my lounge room with two cups of coffee. What the.

“Joshua…what are you doing here?”

He looks me up and down and smirks. “Nice pjs.”

Oh my fuck. I look down to realize I am wearing odd flannel pajamas. Checkered bottoms and bunny top and to cap off the whole alluring look the buttons are done up in the wrong buttonholes. I scratch my head in embarrassment, only to feel my hair standing up on end like the Paddle Pop Lion. I bet I have raccoon mascara eyes too. I must look like a treat. I’m too busy being mortified and self-conscious to remember how mad I am at him. I stay silent, waiting for him to say something, while praying for the earth to swallow me up.

“Um.” He shuffles on his feet and passes me my coffee.

“Thanks,” I whisper as I take it.

He takes a sip while carefully choosing his words. “I…I just came to apologize for last night.”

I stay silent. “What exactly are you apologizing for?” I ask as I raise my eyebrows.

He thinks about his answer as he rubs his chin. “The insinuations.” He drops his head in shame.

“The insinuation I’m easy.” I whisper.

He hangs his head. “Yes.”

I sit down and gesture for him to sit down, but he stays standing. “Josh, why are you so angry with me?”

“I’m not.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Are you going to continue to lie to me?”

He narrows his eyes. “Stay the hell out of my head, Natasha. I didn’t come here to be psychoanalyzed.”

“What did you come here for?”

“I told you, to apologize.”

“Is that for my benefit or your conscience?”

“Stop it, you’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” I snap.

“The psychology shit.” He frowns. “Just forget it.” He puts his coffee down on my table so fast it spills. “I knew there was no point.”

Oh shit, he’s going. I have to stop him.

“Josh, wait, I’m sorry. I’m just really mad at you.”

He stops and turns. “For what?” He puts his head at an angle.

“I saw you last week at the strip joint.” He rubs his chin again. Ah, my first sign he’s uncomfortable. I’m really not playing fair—I’m totally psychoanalyzing him.

“Tash, what were you doing there?” His voice has gone soft, cajoling.

I look at the ground in embarrassment. “We were there to spy on Bridget’s boyfriend, never in a million years did I think I would see you.” He nods as he listens. I stay silent, trying to gather in my head what to say next.

“Natasha, I’m single,” he murmurs.