Page 61 of Behind Frenemy Lines

I was fluffing the pillows when he emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam. He was wearing a grey cotton T-shirt and black shorts, from Appa’s Reject Shop hauls. The T-shirt was too wide across the waist, but a perfect fit across the chest and arms.

Well. Some might have said it was too tight across the chest and arms—Charles was shrugging his shoulders apprehensively, as though worried he was going to rip a seam—but not me.

I found myself wishing I was wearing something sexier than the roomy batik kaftan Amma had bought from Simee Market. I was covered up from collarbone to ankle: I could have walked into any government office in Malaysia without fear of challenge.

But that was good, I reminded myself. I didn’t want to be sexy. This was Charles. My colleague, but also my friend.

I’d never had a real work friend before. I’d had coworkers Iwas friendlywith—lunch buddies, people I’d have a chat with when I saw them by the coffee machine. And there was Arthur, of course, but I’d never thought of him as a friend, no matter what he said about how he saw me.

There had never been anyone, male or female, that I’d have been comfortable offering my sofa bed to, as I had done that evening, without even thinking about it. How funny to think it was Kawan Baik who merited that level of trust.

He had earned it, to be fair. Charles had stood my friend through some pretty dicey situations. I should treat him as such.

I tore my eyes away from his shoulders. “There are snacks in the middle cupboard there if you get hungry. And there’s fruit and yogurt in the fridge, and—what’s this? Oh, leftover rasam. Help yourself to whatever. The bowls and plates and everything are here, and the mugs and glasses are here. And you can watch TV. I’ll show you how to get Netflix on.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “It’s quarter to one.”

“You mean you don’t want to have a bowl of rasam and bingeNailed It!right now?”

Charles smiled. “Maybe not tonight.”

“Suit yourself.” Perhaps Ihadbeen overdoing it with the hostess spiel. “Sleep well—oh, shit, what time are you planning to wake up in the morning?”

Charles blinked. “I’m usually up by seven.”

I’d been starting to get stressed about the fact I’d forgotten to tell Charles about my nasi lemak party, but this diverted my attention. “Really, that early? Even at the weekend?”

“It might be a little later tomorrow,” Charles conceded. “I’ll definitely be up by eight thirty, though. Is that a problem?”

“No, no. But I should have mentioned, I’ve got some friends coming over tomorrow. We’re making nasi lemak. I was worried about disturbing you, but if you’re an early riser, that shouldn’tbe an issue. People should start turning up from around eleven at earliest. My friends aren’t morning people.”

“That’s fine. I’ll be gone by then,” said Charles.

“You’re welcome to join us,” I said, before I could think better of it.

It wasn’t that I objected to Charles’s company—far from it. But his presence was likely to raise questions among Zuri and the others, who’d heard all my stories about him over the years. I could just imagine how they’d react to the news that Charles Goh—theKawan Baik—had spent the night at my flat, no matter how innocent the reasons for that were.

Luckily for my reputation for virtue, Charles shook his head. “I’ve got to sort out my flat, anyway. I’ll clear out well before eleven.”

“OK,” I said, and let out a jaw-cracking yawn. “Well, I’ll be next door. Knock if you need anything.”

“I’ll be fine,” said Charles. “Thanks.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Charles

I was uncomfortablyconscious of Kriya. Hard not to be, knowing she was in bed on the other side of the wall. Whole flat smelled of her.

So did I, after my shower. Turned out her lemongrass fragrance was from her bath wash. Didn’t help with how keyed up I was.

Kriya had emerged from her shower in a flowy print dress, her hair down her back. Dress was perfectly decent, only she wasn’t wearing a bra. Could see her nipples outlined against the fabric.

Stopped looking after that first electric moment of realisation, but mind harder to control than eyes. It was impossible not to imagine what lay underneath her dress.

Relief when we said good night and she went off to her room. She didn’t seem to have noticed anything.

Suppose she trusts me. That’s a nice thought, or should be. Don’t want Kriya not to trust me, of course. But equally…

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