Page 27 of Going Overboard

Ugh, men and sports, why do they have to be such a cliché? Then again, here’s me, doing the most to prove I’m Bridget Jones.

‘Thanks,’ I mumble, because honestly, it is actually kind of him. He has these weird little flashes of decency, and I do vaguely remember having a good chat with him last night, too – about something. Not enough to shift my general stance, which is: he’s attractive, but he annoys me. Isn’t it always the way? If hot people had good personalities too, they’d be unstoppable. Society would collapse.

‘I’ll leave you to change,’ he says, strolling off – still strutting around in his boxers, of course. He could have grabbed himself a robe, while he was getting something for me.

Once I’m alone, I do my best to smarten up. I use the bits of make-up from my bag, doing my best to patch up yesterday’s face, and run my mini brush through my hair. Then I pull on the hoodie, sleeves dangling past my hands. The joggers are massive too – I have to yank the drawstring until they’re practically cinching my organs to keep them up.

Then I head into the bedroom, adjusting my waistband to make sure it’s secure, only to find Brody lying back on the bed, his arms behind his head, flexing his biceps in a way that just has to be intentional.

‘Thanks again,’ I say, trying to sound casual. ‘I’ll give this stuff to Neil, to get back to you at some point.’

‘It suits you,’ he says, with a lazy grin, clearly enjoying the absurdity.

‘Erm, thanks, well, bye,’ I babble.

I step out, close the door behind me, and exhale.

What a night. What a wedding. What a mess.

I turn to head for the lift but before I can escape to stuff my face with breakfast, I hear a familiar voice.

‘Jessa!’

Oh, no. Not Caroline.

I can see her looking at my tracksuit, clearly trying to work out where I got it from. She’s smiling like the cat that got the cream and the hottest gossip of the wedding.

‘Oh, Jessa, hello! What a day you had yesterday!’ she coos. ‘I just feel so sorry for you. I really bloody do. After what Todd did to you. Do you think you’ll ever get over it?’

I open my mouth to form a polite – or maybe not polite, because why would she say that like that? – reply when Brody’s door opens.

He steps out. In boxers.

He’s got something in his hands that he wiggles at me.

‘You forgot your car keys,’ he tells me.

Caroline’s eyes light up, twinkling practically, as she puts the pieces of the puzzle together in the only way she can make them fit.

‘Okay, wow, well, I’ll leave you two to it,’ she says, her voice brimming with implication.

Brody looks mildly apologetic but mostly amused.

‘Sorry,’ he tells me. ‘I just didn’t want you to forget them.’

‘It’s fine,’ I reply. ‘But now everyone at breakfast is going to think we?—’

‘You’ve got to stop caring what people think,’ he says, annoyingly chill about the whole thing.

I frown at him.

‘Bye, Brody,’ I say, finally, loudly and clearly.

‘Bye, Jessa,’ he says with a smirk. ‘Until next time…’

‘Har-har,’ I call back as I head for the lift.

That’s enough of him for one morning – that’s enough of him for this lifetime, to be honest.

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