“Let’s see, then,” he smirked, and we were off.
James is a fucking good squash player. He’s nimble for his build and he’s strong, like a fucking ox. His reflexes are like a cat’s, but I’m slightly quicker on my feet than he is. I used it to my advantage, tearing about the court like a man possessed as we battled it out for a win. A couple of points in and we stopped to catch our breath. I took a swig of water and checked my phone. Nothing from Faye, but I wasn’t expecting anything. She’d never been great with mornings.
“Big night, then, next weekend?”
I nodded. “Birthday bash. Faye’s bag, fuck knows what kind of crazy shit she’ll come up with.”
“Didn’t you see the email?”
“Email? No, I didn’t. She’s not exactly desperate to keep me in the loop,” I said. “We have some power issues we’re still hammering out.”
“Hammering out quite literally, I imagine.”
I flashed him a look, not quite a smile, but enough to give him the picture. “Faye Devere is a monster to handle when she digs her petulant little heels in. No fucking sense, no fucking reason.”
He smiled broadly. “Faye Devere is quite something.” I served, hard enough that he had to spring to the back of the court. “She’s spirited,” he added. “Original and playful. Quite infectious. I had a lot of fun with Faye Devere once upon a time.”
“I remember,” I said, channelling the jealousy into my game. It worked. A couple of points smashed home in my favour.
“So, what’s the landscape? Are you two a thing now?”
I was surprised at the question. James isn’t usually one for talking, and neither am I. I shrugged. “We’re hammering that out, too.”
“Nice. I’m sure you’ll be great together.”
I laughed, spinning my racket in my hand to loosen up my knuckles. “You don’t have to be polite.”
“I’m not being polite,” he said. “There always seemed to be something there, from an outside observer’s perspective. I think you’re both game enough to keep each other on your toes. That’s half the battle as far as I see it.”
“She’s keeping me on my toes, James, she’d have me twirling like a fucking ballet dancer if she could get away with it.”
He cocked his head. “And she can’t?”
I bounced the my racket against my knee, game forgotten, and James responded, backing up to the side of the court and folding his muscled arms across his chest.
To talk or not to talk. Fuck it, why the fuck not.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” he said. “Fire away.”
“Picture this. You wake up after your honeymoon, some day in the future, and your lovely Cat suddenly announces she wants a switch relationship. She wants you on your knees and begging for it, ready to bare your fucking asshole and take a decent pounding with a strap-on. What would you say?”
He laughed. “That’s quite specific.”
“Faye is quite a specific woman, James, she wants what she wants and she wants it now. Like I said, she’s a fucking monster.”
“And that’s what she wants?”
“That’s exactly what the dirty little cow wants.”
“What doyouwant?”
I propped myself against the opposite wall, and there was silence as I weighed it up, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. “Ishouldwant an easy life, to get on with running Explicit in a sensible manner, whether that’s together or not. Ishouldjust tell the snotty little mare that I’m not pissing submissive, and she can take it or leave it. Ishouldwant to tell her to get fucking lost after she bailed without so much as an explanation three years ago.”
He smiled. “And what do you actually want?”
“Fuck knows.” It was a lie, I knew exactly what I wanted. I wantedher. Every annoying, infuriating, zany, weird, childish fucking bit of her.