Page 63 of Not That Ridiculous

“You’ve got me mashed up against my car,” I said. “They’re going to know you’re…you know. Interested. In me. Or else they’ll think you’re mugging me.” Probably the latter.

His brows inched higher. Any further and they’d be in his hair.

I shoved him again. He didn’t yield any more ground, and then it was too late.

“See you, Kev!” one of his mates bellowed across the carpark.

“See you!” Kevin bellowed.

Good grief, he had a set of lungs on him. I swear my hair blew back in the blast.

“Bye, mate!” another one yelled.

“Bye!” He lifted an arm to wave and I took my moment to sidle away. I didn’t get far. He dropped his arm again, caught me, and put me right back.

“Oi, Kev!” a third one yelled, jogging over.

“What?” he yelled back.

Did I really have to be here? Having my eardrums assaulted like this? I huffed and attempted to squirm away but Kevin simply leaned against me. I was going nowhere.

What on earth was the silly boy doing?

No one could look at us and think, Ah. They’re discussing football. Or lager. Maybe Star Wars.

Kevin had me flat to my car, one leg was now between mine, and I was standing there helplessly, all red faced and wide-eyed about it.

It wasn’t like this was the nineties or the noughties, but a lot of people were still dicks about anything other than heterosexuality.

His mate arrived. Griffin. One of my regulars. “Hi, Charlie,” he said.

“Griffin.” I scowled at him, ready to lay into him if he evenhintedat having a problem with Kevin. He’d never drink another cup of coffee in this town again for as long as he lived if I had anything to do about it, and I’d?—

“You good to help me haul that stuff to the tip later?” Griffin continued without seeming to notice that Kevin had a possessive hand resting at the base of my neck, thumb lightly grazing my collarbone. “My mum’s giving me shit about it. If I don’t get it out the garage this weekend, says she’s going to start charging me storage fees.”

Kevin laughed. “She would and all, wouldn’t she?”

“Yeah. Say around three?”

Kevin lifted my wrist and looked at my watch. He made a considering face. “Can we do it tomorrow?”

“Eh.” Griffin shrugged. “Kind of need to get it done today. Unless you two?—”

“Three is fine,” I said, before he finished that sentence.

“Yeah?” Kevin asked me seriously.

Was I his social secretary now? Was I in charge of his calendar? I nodded.

“Right, then. I’ve got to go and see to Charlie’s front door first, I’ll meet you at three, and be back at Charlie’s by—what d’you reckon?”

Griffin pondered this.

So did I.

Back at Charlie’s?

Wait. Front door?

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