JEN
I’m a bitch.
It’s something I’ve been told plenty of times over the years, but I laughed it off ‘cause, really, who gives a shit what people think of you? I don’t. I am who I am – and that’s no-one’s issue but my own.
Besides, I wouldn’t say I was a bitch. I’m just brutally honest, and there is a difference.
So it’s a thin line, but it’s there.
But Bing’s eyes haunt me, and I know I am the biggest bitch today. He looked after me last night, brought me home, and even stayed the night to make sure I was okay today. What do I do? I throw his past back in him.
Yeah, woo! Give the stupid speak-before-you-think blonde a gold fucking medal for the mantel.
The worst thing is that I can’t even blame it on my hormones or my hangover. Nope, it’s because I’m jealous of all the girls who’ve been there, and that’s a whole lot of damn jealousy.
I don’t even know why I’m jealous. He has that many notches on his bedpost that the bedpost probably doesn’t even exist anymore.
But I am not one of them, and when he walks in my bedroom with nothing on that fine ass chest of his I get mad. And waking up with a shirtless Bing is also starting to become a habit – one I could get too easily accustomed to.
My phone makes an annoying little pingy dingy fuck off sound next to me, and I grab it, if only to shut it up. Lexy’s name appears on the screen.
Bing says you got drunk last night. Be safe crazy girl. Love you x
Always safe. Your brother slept over to look after me. He’s going soft. Love you too. x
He slept over? Are you taming the beast?
I would love to tame the beast.
No. Just passing out on him in a taxi.
Nice.
I huff out a short, sharp breath, and make the decision to get up. I pad my way into the kitchen with a rumbling stomach, and there’s a DVD case on the side. I frown, picking it up.
It’s my favourite movie, Stardust, and beside it is a note telling me to look in the freezer. I pull the freezer door open, and look inside a drawer. Two pizzas and garlic bread.
It dawns on me like I’ve just been hit round the head with a skateboard, and I groan loudly, smacking my head on the freezer.
“Fuck!” I curse and rub my forehead. “I’m a twat. Such a twat.”
I crawl across the front room floor, knock my phone off the table, and dial his number.
“She’s alive then,” his husky voice answers.
“Alive and kicking. Not so much kicking. More head-butting and crawling. But yes. Alive,” I ramble out.
He chuckles. “Any particular reason you’re calling me?”
“Umm.” The open freezer door catches my eye. “Yeah. I just got out bed on a food mission, and noticed the DVD fairy stopped by along with the pizza fairy. I know I can eat like a horse but I’m pretty sure I can’t eat all the pizza and garlic bread by myself so...”
“And?”
And you’re so fucking difficult all the time.
“Are you actually going to make me ask you to come over and eat the food you bought?”
“Maybe.” The teasing lilt to his voice tickles me, and I’m momentarily distracted by what it’d feel like if he actually did tick-
“Fine. Samuel, would you like to come over to my place for pizza and garlic bread you bought, and to watch a DVD you rented?”
“I have to wash my hair,” he dead-pans.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I flinch at the volume of my voice. Oh, my head.
“No. That messy ‘I just had sex’ style is hard to maintain.”
“Well I’m sorry to break it to you, John Frieda, but it doesn’t look like you’ve just had sex. It looks like you’ve been pulled through a hedge, run over by a lawnmower, and shit on by a donkey.”
“Oh, she flatters me so. Will you be nice to me if I come over?”
“I don’t know. I might leave your sorry ass on the doorstep.”
“My hot sorry ass,” he corrects.
“Your hot sorry ass,” I say without thinking.
“You think my ass is hot?”
“What? No. Fuck off!”
He roars with laughter down the phone. “I’ll see you later, gorgeous.”
“Goodbye, Samuel.” I clench my teeth and put the phone back.
I take it back. I’m not a bitch if it’s deserved.
~
I open the door resembling something somewhat human opposed to total zombie apocalypse.
“Have you passed the head-butting stage yet?” Bing leans against the door frame looking sinfully sexy in a white polo top and dark wash jeans. Mamma Mia on horseback.
“The head-butting thing was an accident.” I smile sweetly. “But it can always be arranged.”
“So it’s safe for me to come in?” He smirks, his eyebrows raised slightly.
“Depends on your definition of safe,” I mumble and step aside. He glances at me out the corner of his eye as he walks past.
“Something to say, Jennifer?”
I want to wipe that shit eating grin off his face with my frying pan.
“Not to you.” I flutter my eyelashes, and shut the door.