Page 17 of Hot Girl Summer

Through the darkness, I bypass the open plan lounge-diner into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. On the way out, I’m startled with the image of a sleeping Ryan sprawled across the tiny sofa, his long legs dangling off the edge.

Holding my breath, I creep across the parquet floor, being careful not to wake him, and pray that the old floorboards stay silent. His phone chimes, and I jolt, splashing burning hot liquid onto my top.

“Shit,” I curse under my breath, and he stirs. When I look back at him, he’s bolt upright with wide eyes, his forehead damp with sweat.

“Phi?” His features instantly soften. He lets out a long breath, and melts back into the couch. “Did you just get home?”

I nod, then blow on my drink, taking a tiny sip. It burns my tongue, but it’s the only way I can drink it.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you were here.” I pause. “Whyareyou here?”

He sighs, and buries his head in his hands. “Chrissy ended it.”

“Oh no, what happened?” I feign surprise. This isn’t the first time they’ve broken up, and it won’t be the last. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve helped mend his broken heart, but it’s never easy to see him upset.

“I fucked up. Again.”

I take a seat next to him. “So, she threw you out, huh?”

His gaze falls to the floor. “April and I. We...we slept together again.”

Why am I not surprised? “Fucking hell, Ry. I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you need to learn how to keep your dick in your pants.”

“It was just once,” Ryan says, raising his hands in defence.

I don’t back off. Not for a moment. “Look, you know how I feel about Chrissy. But you also know how I feel about cheating. If she doesn’t make you happy, then it’s best you go your separate ways.”

Marie Kondo that bitch out of your life once and for all.

I realise how insensitive I sound, but it’s been a long day, I’m exhausted, and the last thing I want to be doing is dishing out relationship advice, especially as I’m hardly an expert in the field.

“Thanks, Phi,” he says, meeting my gaze. “You always have my back.”

“What are friends for?”

I try to remember a time when our roles were switched, but I fail to think of one.

“I need to go to bed,” I say, hopping off the sofa. “You going to be okay?”

He nods, and a kind, reassuring smile spreads across my face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Mug in hand, I start towards the staircase.

“Phi? Can I ask one teeny-tiny favour?”

I pause, waiting for him to carry on.

“Can I stay in your bed? This sofa isn’t doing my back any favours.”

Turning, I size up his 6-foot-something frame, and then the modest two-seater couch. I roll my eyes. Where’s the harm in letting him stay with me? Ryan is one of the few people I trust, and I don’t want to be responsible for a pro basketball player’s back injury.

“Fine. But don’t for one second think about touching me. I don’t even want to hear you breathe. And I want fresh juice in the morning.”

“How kind of you,” he says, half joking.

For once in my life I want to be terrifying, but I know the reality. Being small has its perks, and being taken seriously isn’t one of them.

Once we’re upstairs and under the covers, I switch off the light, close my eyes and try to tune out the sound of Ryan’s annoyingly loud breathing as I clutch the duvet to my chest. After a failed attempt to sync our breaths, my hopes of tricking my body into thinking I’m alone diminishes, and the more I try to ignore him, the louder the noise becomes.

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