I think it’s time Kelly Anne was added to the ground rules.
I make a mental note of that for later.Laine“So? What the hell, Laine? Who’s the Mercedes guy?”
Kelly Anne won’t let up, and it’s annoying. It makes me feel awkward and uneasy, like she’s poking at something too private to be shared.
“That’s Nick,” I tell her, like my answer stands a hope in hell of cutting it. “The guy who rescued me.”
“Nick,” she says. “And what’s the deal with Nick?”
“He’s looking after me.” I try to outpace her but she’s having none of it.
“Looking after you how?”
“I’m staying with him… while my house gets sorted… you know, the house you gave the key away to, the house that got totally invaded by a load of deadbeats from a shitty club while I was stranded in the rain.”
She looks so horrified, and I’m glad.
I nod my head. “Yeah, Kels, that house.”
“Jeez, Laine, I’m sorry. Mum saw Mrs Barnes from down your street yesterday, said your house got all fucked up. I’m a total fucking ass.”
I don’t reply in the affirmative, even though I probably should. “Nick’s letting me stay at his. He sorted me out with some clothes. Brought me to college.”
She stares at the lunchbox I’m still clutching to my chest. “Made you sandwiches…”
“Yeah, made me sandwiches.”
She tugs at my elbow, but I don’t let her see inside the box. “Don’t you think that’s a little…”
“A little what?”
She pulls a strange expression. “I dunno, a little creepy? Some random guy rescues you, buys you dresses and packs you a lunchbox. That’s a bit creepy, no?”
I shrug. “He’s not creepy. He’s really nice.”
“He could be a serial killer. Ted Bundy was a really nice guy, you know.”
I laugh. “You’ve been watching too much CSI.”
“Yeah, and you’re really sweet. Too sweet. Like take advantage of sweet.”
She’d be the one to know. If only I was bitch enough to point that out.
“I may not be worldly wise like you, but I’m not stupid. He’s a nice guy. I like him.”
And I guess I say like him with a little too much conviction, because her eyes widen and she gives me that look. The interrogation look.
“You like him?! Like really like him? Like want his dick like him?”
I sigh, back myself into the wall to let some people pass. “Yeah, I like him. I like him like that.” And now I’ve said it I feel it all over again. The tickles and the flutters. That feeling of burning up. The memory of his body against mine.
Kelly Anne’s mouth is open, and she looks so shocked. The most shocked I’ve ever seen her look.
“But he’s… he’s…”
“He’s what?”
She struggles for words, which is totally unlike her. “He’s like… old. Like an old guy.”
“He’s not an old guy.” I laugh, and it sounds so high-pitched. “He’s forty-two, that’s not old.”
“My dad’s forty next summer, Laine. Forty. And he’s an old guy.” She sighs. “This Nick guy’s old enough to be your dad, Laine. Isn’t that weird?” She screws her face up. “Gross.”
The thought makes my heart pound, as though she’ll know. Know the dirty thoughts I want to keep all to myself.
“I haven’t really thought about it like that,” I lie. “I just like him.”
“And does he like you?” Her eyes are right on mine, and I can’t lie. I don’t know where to look. “Has he… tried anything?”
I shake my head. “No… it wasn’t him… it was…”
“It was what?”
I feel my cheeks burning, and I put my finger over my lips until another crowd of students pass us by. “It was me…” I whisper. “I… I tried something…”
The grin spreads right across her face. “You tried something?! For real?”
I nod. “Yeah, and it was stupid, alright? I made a fool of myself.”
She’s trying not to laugh, I can tell. “I’m sure you didn’t…”
“Yes,” I say. “I totally did.”
“And what did he do?” she’s smiling so bright.
“He… he told me I didn’t have to say thank you that way.”
“And you don’t, Laine. Using sex for that is totally skanky.”
I don’t even try and work out where Kelly Anne’s rules on skanky sit. In her world it’s ok to put it about to anyone who looks hot after a couple of tequilas, but clearly not to express gratitude that way. It’s ok to ditch a friend to go running after a piece of random dick, but not ok to fancy someone old enough to be your dad.
“Well, he didn’t take it.”
“I’ll bet he wanted to, though.” She nudges me in the arm. “He must like you, Laine. Cute little blonde thing like you. I bet he’s jerking off to the thought every five minutes. Dirty old man.” Her laugh cuts right through me. “Seriously, though,” she says, “you should come stay with me, not some random old guy.”
The thought fills me with dread. “I’m good,” I tell her. “I like it with Nick.”