I know, I know, you don’t have to tell me how pathetic that is.” I held up a hand defensively as Vic pulled back slightly and wrinkled her nose at me. “You’d think I’d have grown out of that kind of crap at school, but I actually tried to be one of the cool girls. At age twenty-eight. I’m a complete tool.”
“Twenty-nine now,” Vic pointed out and sighed. “You don’t secretly fancy Gretchen, do you, and that’s why you told her you were single? This isn’t your way of telling me you’ve become a lesbian?”
“Oh shut up, I’m being serious. Remember I told you me and Tom had been talking about mortgages and settling down and this horrible smug engagement party we were going to? I felt like the personification of a Boden cardigan.” I sighed. “I just wanted to play at being someone else, someone exciting, I didn’t think I’d wind up being friends with her, and by then it was too bloody embarrassing to come clean.”
“You tit,” laughed Vic. “I wonder if Madonna has this much trouble every time she reinvents herself? Look, it’s no big deal. It’s not like I don’t understand what you get out of being friends with her, Al—she’s fun, lively, glamorous, you don’t have a very deep or demanding friendship—and that’s great for you. You just get to have fun. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“But when she hinted about me and her brother hooking up, I actively said it was over with me and Tom,” I said. “You can’t tell me that’s OK. I feel so guilty about it I can’t even begin to tell you. What the hell was I playing at? That’s not like me—and now, as if that wasn’t bad enough, I keep thinking about him and I’m … feeling confused.”
“By ‘him’ do you mean your boyfriend of two years, Tom, who brought you out here for this surprise birthday trip because he thinks he needs to be more spontaneous and romantic—”
“He said that to you?” Shocked, I shielded my face from the sun again and squinted at her, feeling even worse.
Vic nodded. “Or do you mean the coffee bloke you obviously have a thumping crush on?”
“You think that’s all it is?” I said hopefully. “A crush?”
She pulled a face. “Of course! What does he look like?”
“Tall—”
“If you say ‘dark and handsome’ next, I’ll punch you,” she interrupted.
I ignored her. “He’s got light hair. He’s outdoorsy, obviously works out a lot. At the coffee shop he looked like he’d ridden a wave up to the door of the café and hopped off his board at the last moment, you know? I think he’s a bit edgy though—he’s a travel writer but he had this massive bulging hunk—”
“Oh la la!” Vic grinned.
“—of money,” I gave her a look, “in his back pocket. He’s got these really green eyes too, and a cute bum, and …”
Vic laughed. “Oh please! You just want to shag him, that’s all. Don’t beat yourself up about it! Everyone likes a bit of window-shopping now and then. I’ve got this crush on this bloke I see every day on the Metro and I’ve barely finished unpacking my stuff at Luc’s. He’s so my fantasy shag—although I’m pretty sure he must be gay, he’s that fit.”
“Really?” I said eagerly, relieved, checking again that Tom still couldn’t hear us. “Because I seriously can’t get him out of my head. I keep thinking about how nice he was—he’s creative, well traveled, interesting and”—I blushed—“he told me I had a lovely smile, but then he could just like flirting I guess. He’s funny too, Vic … We had this sort of spark, I’m sure we did.”
“Whoa.” Vic stopped dead in her tracks. “He’s funny?”
I nodded.
“And you had a spark?”
I nodded again and blushed like a fifteen-year-old.
“Oh shit.” She sighed. “Oh poor Tom. What’s this perfect man’s name then?”
“Bailey,” I said dreamily, and she went “Ha!” so loudly the boys turned around and I practically had to push her into a fountain to
“Twenty-nine now,” Vic pointed out and sighed. “You don’t secretly fancy Gretchen, do you, and that’s why you told her you were single? This isn’t your way of telling me you’ve become a lesbian?”
“Oh shut up, I’m being serious. Remember I told you me and Tom had been talking about mortgages and settling down and this horrible smug engagement party we were going to? I felt like the personification of a Boden cardigan.” I sighed. “I just wanted to play at being someone else, someone exciting, I didn’t think I’d wind up being friends with her, and by then it was too bloody embarrassing to come clean.”
“You tit,” laughed Vic. “I wonder if Madonna has this much trouble every time she reinvents herself? Look, it’s no big deal. It’s not like I don’t understand what you get out of being friends with her, Al—she’s fun, lively, glamorous, you don’t have a very deep or demanding friendship—and that’s great for you. You just get to have fun. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“But when she hinted about me and her brother hooking up, I actively said it was over with me and Tom,” I said. “You can’t tell me that’s OK. I feel so guilty about it I can’t even begin to tell you. What the hell was I playing at? That’s not like me—and now, as if that wasn’t bad enough, I keep thinking about him and I’m … feeling confused.”
“By ‘him’ do you mean your boyfriend of two years, Tom, who brought you out here for this surprise birthday trip because he thinks he needs to be more spontaneous and romantic—”
“He said that to you?” Shocked, I shielded my face from the sun again and squinted at her, feeling even worse.
Vic nodded. “Or do you mean the coffee bloke you obviously have a thumping crush on?”
“You think that’s all it is?” I said hopefully. “A crush?”
She pulled a face. “Of course! What does he look like?”
“Tall—”
“If you say ‘dark and handsome’ next, I’ll punch you,” she interrupted.
I ignored her. “He’s got light hair. He’s outdoorsy, obviously works out a lot. At the coffee shop he looked like he’d ridden a wave up to the door of the café and hopped off his board at the last moment, you know? I think he’s a bit edgy though—he’s a travel writer but he had this massive bulging hunk—”
“Oh la la!” Vic grinned.
“—of money,” I gave her a look, “in his back pocket. He’s got these really green eyes too, and a cute bum, and …”
Vic laughed. “Oh please! You just want to shag him, that’s all. Don’t beat yourself up about it! Everyone likes a bit of window-shopping now and then. I’ve got this crush on this bloke I see every day on the Metro and I’ve barely finished unpacking my stuff at Luc’s. He’s so my fantasy shag—although I’m pretty sure he must be gay, he’s that fit.”
“Really?” I said eagerly, relieved, checking again that Tom still couldn’t hear us. “Because I seriously can’t get him out of my head. I keep thinking about how nice he was—he’s creative, well traveled, interesting and”—I blushed—“he told me I had a lovely smile, but then he could just like flirting I guess. He’s funny too, Vic … We had this sort of spark, I’m sure we did.”
“Whoa.” Vic stopped dead in her tracks. “He’s funny?”
I nodded.
“And you had a spark?”
I nodded again and blushed like a fifteen-year-old.
“Oh shit.” She sighed. “Oh poor Tom. What’s this perfect man’s name then?”
“Bailey,” I said dreamily, and she went “Ha!” so loudly the boys turned around and I practically had to push her into a fountain to
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