She gave me a sympathetic smile. “Sure.”
I leant my elbows on the kitchen counter. “Tell me about your boyfriend.”
A look crossed her face but she quickly pushed it aside and gave me a happy smile. I wondered at what that meant, but she threw me when she said, “I’d rather know about your man.”
“My man? I don’t have a man.” I couldn’t count Griff as a man in my life so there was no point talking about him.
“You must. You’ve got this glow or something to you. Like you’ve recently had sex, so fess up.” She waited with a huge grin of expectation on her face.
“There is someone, but he’s not my man and never will be my man. We slept together once, and I’m sad to report, it won’t happen again. He’s a stubborn hard-ass who will never let anyone in.”
“Wait, didn’t you tell me you don’t believe in one-night stands?”
I threw my hands in the air and sighed loudly. “God, that rule is coming back to bite me in the ass. I swear I’m never telling my friends about my sex rules anymore. I break them once, and everyone wants to give me grief for it!”
She frowned. “How many sex rules do you have?”
I laughed and took a sip of tea. “None, but if I ever make another one, I’m not telling you.”
“So tell me about this dude. He must be hot for you to break that rule. Have you got a photo? I need to see what he looks like!” she exclaimed. I was sure red blushed across my entire face, and it must have because she pointed at me and asked, “Did you take a sneaky photo of a man?”
I covered my face with my hand and nodded. I’d never done something like it in my life, but I hadn’t been able to resist a photo of Griff while he slept the other morning. “Yes.”
She put her hand out. “Give me your phone. I need to see this photo.”
I found the photo on my phone and passed it to her. “See why I broke my rule?”
Her eyes widened and she looked at me in disbelief. “Holy fuck, Sophia, this dude’s way hot. Are you sure he’s not interested in seeing you again? I’d be doing everything in my power to get him if I was you.”
“Trust me, he’s not interested in me. I’ve practically thrown myself at him, and made a fool of myself numerous times, but we won’t talk about that… he’s made it clear he only wanted one night.” A thought hit me. “God, for all I know, he probably thought the sex was bad… I hadn’t even thought of that until now.”
She stared at me for a moment. Handing my phone back to me, she said, “Geez, this relationship stuff never gets easier, does it?”
Laughing, I said, “It probably does for women who have their ‘man-shit’ together, but I don’t, so it’s not getting any easier for me.”
“What is ‘man-shit’?”
I glared at her. “Are you making fun of me?”
She held her hands up defensively and shook her head. “No! You just say the funniest things sometimes, and I don’t always know what you mean.”
“When you’ve got your ‘man-shit’ together, you’re good with men. You know those women who seem to effortlessly flirt with a man and always seem to know the exact right thing to say to them? They’re the women with it all together. That is not me. I open my mouth and the crap that comes out of it makes men run…I’m sure of it. I kid you not, I’ve been in a bar before trying to flirt and after I’ve said something totally cringe-worthy, I’ve watched as the guy’s eyes glaze over and then he excuses himself and I never see him again.”
Her expression had turned soft, and she gave me a huge smile before saying, “I love having you as a sister. I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather have to teach me about ‘man-shit’ and how to take sneaky photos of men while they sleep.”
I laughed and then she started, too.
And I realised that even on shitty days when nothing seemed to be going your way, it was the little moments with those you cared about that could help pick you up, dust off your hurt and get you ready to go back out into the world.
* * *
The next morning, I dressed to impress for work. I’d slept fairly badly, but I was determined that today was going to be a good day, and I’d always had good days when I dressed well and looked good. So that’s how I decided to start this day. I wore a red pencil skirt that sat just below my knees, a white, fitted blouse that – if I did say so myself – made my boobs look freaking awesome, and red stilettos. I curled my long, blonde hair into soft curls that fell over my shoulders, and paid more attention to my makeup than I usually did for work – almost the same level of attention I would pay to it if I were going out for the night.
I was running on time, I’d made my lunch, which meant I didn’t have to spend money on it, and everything was going well as I headed out to my car. And then everything turned to shit.
As I backed the car out of the driveway, something didn’t feel right, so I pulled up in the driveway, and got out to check my suspicions. I was right – one of my tyres was flat.
Argh!