Charlotte sighs. ‘I know you don’t have a girlfriend, so naturally I’m going to assume the issue is me.’
I might not have a girlfriend, but I do have a soulmate. Not something I’d ever say aloud—especially in the middle of a busy pub. ‘It’s not you—’
‘I swear to God, if you finish that sentence with “it’s me”.’
‘Okay, then, it’s you.’
Her eyebrows rise.
‘Your obvious bad looks and awkward personality.’
She relaxes. ‘Oh. You’re one of those hilarious farmer types.’
We’re silent a moment.
‘She messed you up good, huh?’ she says, expression turning serious.
I turn the leather band on my arm. ‘I think we did a pretty good job on each other.’
She nods. ‘Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be with the rest of the drunk folk on the dance floor.’
‘Better-quality guys out there anyway.’
‘Your modesty just adds to the appeal, so you’re better off saying nothing.’ She flashes me a smile. ‘I’ll leave you to lick your wounds.’
I watch her walk away. Actually, I watch her arse. I’m not perfect.
The moment she’s swallowed up by the unruly crowd, I take out my phone and type a text message to Annie.
Me: I’m at a pub in Turram wearing a mullet wig.
Annie: I have the visual, and I’m not disappointed. I think I’m the only person in Brisbane in bed right now.
I glance at my watch. It’s 11:56 p.m.
Me: Did I wake you?
Annie: I have a stall at the local market tomorrow. I’m still fiddling with jewellery. This is how jewellers ‘ring in’ the New Year.
Me: I see what you did there. Your jokes are getting worse. Tamsin’s here btw.
Annie: Now I’m jealous.
Annie: Everything okay?
Me: Did you dye your hair?
Annie: Not yet. Why? Are you pro or against?
Me: It’s none of my business what you do with your hair… but 100% against.
Annie: :)
Annie: Are you okay?
Me: You already asked me that.
Annie: And you didn’t answer.