I winced. Another creak, and then I heard him walking around. “So…am I busy tonight? No. Completely free. Hold on.”
Then I heard, very clearly, the sound of a stream of liquid.
“Oh my God! Are you taking a leak, while you’re on the phone to me?!”
“I’m running water into the sink, so I can clean a mug.” The sound stopped. “You think I’m all class, don’t you?” He sounded a little hurt.
“No! Yes! Sorry.” I was pacing around my apartment now. “Look, do you want to come to a party tonight?”
I heard the rattle of a cereal carton. “Sure.”
“It’s not a date,” I said suddenly. And then froze. Why did I say that?!
“I know,” Connor said patiently. “I didn’t think it was.” He paused. “Unless it is? Is it a date?”
I knew he was playing with me now. “No!”
“Are you asking me out on a date, Karen Montfort?”
“No!” Why did he have to be so infuriating?
He chuckled, and I gave him the address through gritted teeth.
***
That afternoon, I fought valiantly…but I was surrounded. Surrounded by giggling, over-helpful friends.
I was sitting on a stool in the center of my lounge. Natasha was behind me, cooking my hair inch by inch with ceramic tongs so powerful I knew my hair would crumble to ash if she left them in one place. Jasmine was in front of me, doing my makeup. Clarissa was sitting next to me, cradling my hand as she painted my nails.
I almost would have felt glamorous except that firstly, glamour isn’t my thing and secondly, I was in my pink fluffy bunny rabbit dressing gown.
I knew there was something going on. They’d encouraged me to get dressed up and go out before, of course—it’s the bane of all single women with attached friends (or “friends who have no problem getting dates” in the case of Jasmine). But this went way beyond anything they’d done before. I would have much rather been left to practice, but saying “No” wasn’t my strong suit.
“Did you hear from Connor?” Natasha wanted to know. “I’m worried there’ll be too many women.”
I grimaced. “Don’t worry. He’s coming, and he’s a walking testosterone factory. Give him five minutes and he’ll have one of those society girls in a broom cupboard.”
I saw a look pass between Clarissa and Natasha. “What?”
“Nothing,” Clarissa told me in a sing-song voice. “Don’t move your hand. Let it dry.” She wheeled her stool around to my other hand.
Natasha leaned down to my ear. “Last time we had a party at our place, there was some use of the broom cupboard.”
I saw Clarissa flush. “You know you called it our place?” she asked, to cover herself. “I don’t know why you keep renting with me. You could just move into the mansion and have a whole wing to keep your shoes in.”
Natasha went quiet. “Not ready yet,” she said after a moment. “What about you and Neil?”
“Neil always comes to our apartment, and I’m not ready to have him move in.” She paused. “I still haven’t been to his place yet.”
There was utter silence.
“You haven’t been to his place yet?!” Jasmine almost screeched. “It’s been months!”
“That does seem a little…unusual,” I offered quietly. “Do you know where he lives, at least?”
“Of course I do!” Clarissa was gripping my hand a little tighter than was really necessary. “It’s…in….”
We all waited.
“Boston,” she said with a shrug.
“Boston?!” Natasha gaped at her. “The best you can do is the city?!”
“You know Neil—he’s a free spirit. When he’s at MIT, he’s at his place in Boston. When he’s in New York, it’s our place, or sometimes he crashes with the bikers at the clubhouse. He doesn’t attach much importance to it. He says ‘A bed’s a bed, y’know?’”
“But does he know that you think it’s important?” I asked. “That you’d like to see where he lives?”
Clarissa went quiet, and then we all went quiet.
“Done!” yelled Natasha, breaking the tension. Jasmine scrabbled to finish my face. “Purse your lips,” she told me.
I pursed.
“What’s that?” she asked, horrified. “You look like Kermit the Frog. Pucker up, like you’re going to kiss someone.”
I tried to imagine kissing someone—not easy, with no one there and your friends around you. I closed my eyes and imagined Sven, my fantasy masseur. But I’d always focused on his body—I had no idea what his face looked like.