Page 17 of Wish You Knew
It was torture.
He hadn’t replied to my last message. I didn’t want to come across as all needy-stalker and send another one. I’d finally agreed to come tonight late this afternoon. Having debated with myself for the past few days, I decided I wanted to be here for Saff. Not for Scott.
Ha, who was I trying to kid?
“I asked him if he wanted to come for dinner.” Saff stood in the restroom, reapplying her lipstick, while I waited for her.
I could pretend I didn’t know who she was talking about, but there was no point. “And?”
“Said he was going to stay and watch the headline band.” She pursed her lips together, then touched up the smudge in her cupid’s bow.
Figured as much. There would be more fresh meat for him there, rather than hanging out with me and Saff.
I couldn’t shake the feeling he was pissed at me.
But then I also couldn’t shake why it bothered me so much.
“Come on, let’s go eat. I’m starving.” Saff turned away from the mirror, fixing me with a grin.
We ended up in a burger place not far from the venue. A small part of me hoped Scott might change his mind and join us. As I didn’t have a casting until Monday, I chose a cheeseburger and chips, plus wine. I could be more sensible over the weekend. I’d live on water and celery if I had to. Saff ended up ordering the same, after taking an age looking at the menu, and changing her mind about five times. I pitied Tris when he took her out, her indecisiveness was legendary.
“What’s going on with you and Scott then?” Saff got straight to the point once our drinks arrived. She was nothing if not direct.
I shrugged, unsure how to answer.
“I saw you giving him the eye at The Matchbox, did you hook up after?”
I chewed on an olive and nodded.
“Oh, Rosie.” Saff let out a sigh. “I never know whether to be disappointed in you or angry for you.”
The waiter appeared with our food and we paused the conversation while he set down the plates.
“What do you mean?” I asked, shaking vinegar over my chips.
“You and Scott, all this on/off stuff. You can do so much better than him.”
I vaguely recalled having a similar conversation with her after she’d been papped with a married footballer. Had Saff listened to me? Of course not. Did that mean I should listen to her?
Saff stuffed a forkful of chips into her mouth. “We need to find you a nice guy,” she mumbled.
“Why?” I pulled a face.
She directed a finger at her chest. “Case in point. Look what happened when I stopped hanging around with the likes of Troy Carson or Carl Doherty.”
I considered her justification. True, when she started seeing Tris it had been for show, to get her out of trouble with her cousin, the record company and the gossip columns. Then as they grew closer, she had softened, and fallen in love with him. As a painter and decorator working for his uncle, he was a grafter, working hard for everything he had. Basically, the polar opposite of Saff, the wild child, rock star who didn’t like obeying the rules. Or at least she had been. Since they’d moved in together, she had lost some of her hard edginess. Not angry at the world all the time she stopped doing things simply to piss off her cousin. I loved both versions of her, although this new, sentimental side of her was a revelation.
“Yeah, I get it.” I sipped my wine, pretending to give her suggestion some serious thought. “But where do I find the good ones?”
Excited that her suggestion might actually have sunk in, Saff waved her fork at me. “I bet Tris has some friends from back home. I can speak to him and see who he thinks might be a suitable match.”
I gulped. I hadn’t expected her to move things on quite so quick. Let’s not get carried away.
“We can arrange a double date, dinner at ours. A sort of housewarming party!”
“Um. Okay?” I hesitated. Much as I loved Tris and how he’d changed Saff, I wasn’t sure a manual labourer would quite do it for me. Or was I being too judgemental?
“We’ll arrange it soon. I’m meant to be doing some stuff with the guys in the studio. Promised Jonas we’d have the second album sorted by now.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s like running through treacle, none of us are inspired.”
