Page 22 of Boyfriend Material
“Why? Are you Julia Roberts inPretty Woman?”
His blush deepened. “No. I simply prefer to reserve that intimacy for people I actually like.”
“Oh.” Sometimes, you can half believe you’ve been hurt so much you’ve basically been vaccinated. Rendered immune. And then someone says something like that to you. I forced my mouth into a grin. “Well, as you’ve seen, that’s not a problem for me.”
My only consolation was that Oliver didn’t look very happy either. “Apparently not.”
“But don’t worry. Despite recent evidence, I can keep my lips off you.”
“Good. Thank you.”
Silence sloshed heavily between us.
“So,” I asked, “what now?”
“Brunch at mine? This Sunday?”
Twice in a week? He’d be sick of me before we even made it to the Beetle Drive. And I’d either be sick of him or I wouldn’t. And “wouldn’t” was too scary to handle right now.
“If this is going to work”—he gazed at me solemnly—“we need to get to know each other, Luc.”
“You can call me Lucien,” I blurted out.
“I thought you said you didn’t—”
“It can be your special name for me. I mean”—suddenly, I could barely catch my breath—“your fake special name for me. That’s a thing, right? That couples do.”
“But I don’t want to have afakespecial name for you that yougenuinelydon’t like.” There was that light again. Those secret flecks of silver in the cold steel of his eyes. “That would make me a terrible fake boyfriend.”
“It’s fine. I overreacted. I don’t care.”
“That’s hardly an endorsement.”
“I mean I don’t mind.” Was he going to make mebeg? Who was I kidding? I was probably going to.
This was why relationships sucked: they made you need shit you’d been perfectly happy not needing. And then they took them away.
He gave me one of those too-searching, too-sincere looks. “Well, if that’s what you want.”
I nodded, quietly hating myself. “It’s what I want.”
“Then, I’ll see you on Sunday…” He smiled. Oliver Blackwood was smiling. At me. For me. Because of me. “…Lucien.”
Chapter 9
“So,” I said to Alex Twaddle, “a man walks into a bar. And he sits down and there’s the bowl of peanuts. And a voice comes from the bowl of peanuts, sayingHey, your hair looks great. And then this other voice comes from the cigarette machine on the other side of the bar, saying,No it doesn’t,you look like a prick, and so does your mum.”
Alex’s eyes widened. “Oh I say. That’s a bit much.”
“Yeah, keep that in mind because it’s sort of integral to the joke. Anyway, the man asks the barman what’s going on. And the barman says,don’t worry, the nuts are complimentary but the cigarette machine’s out of order.”
“Well, I suppose they wouldn’t have bothered to fix it because you’re not allowed to smoke in pubs anymore.”
I should have seen this coming. “You’re right, Alex. It’s the accuracy that makes it funnier.”
“I’ll keep that in mind too.” He smiled at me encouragingly. “What’s the rest of the joke?”
“That was the joke. The nuts are complimentary, but the cigarette machine is out of order.”
