Page 26 of Great Sexpectations
‘That was, like, the best thing ever. No one speaks to my dad like that,’ he says, almost excitedly. ‘Everyone’s usually scared of him. But that was brilliant, it was so smart, so sparky. I’m sorry, because I should have briefed you. I asked you to be here and I was selfish about it because I needed a shield, someone to take the flak off me, because most dinners we have, it’s basically me being the butt of the jokes and I couldn’t take that after what happened at the party.’
This is not the Cameron I met at Halloween. He was so sweet, chatty and I’ve seen none of that today. I saw him climb into a shell, and it pains me to see someone put down like that.
‘That wouldn’t have needed a brief. I’d have needed a full-on report with footnotes. I think the doctor in there is a pervert. He just stared at my chest the whole time.’
‘He sleeps around, it’s known.’
‘They really are not nice people. How did you grow up with that?’ I ask.
‘I was the rebel,’ he replies.
‘You mean the normal one.’
There’s a pause. I feel bad for him when I compare my own upbringing. A dinner party in my family would have been full of laughs, conversation, my dad’s attempts at bad magic, an eighties playlist, innuendo for days and everyone being made to feel welcome, heard, accepted.
I rub Cameron’s arm to try to warm him up. ‘I don’t know what to say, Cameron. Look at you, you’re shivering. I’ll walk up to the main road and grab a cab or call an Uber, it’s fine. Go back to the party.’
‘I don’t want to…’
‘I don’t blame you but—’
‘I think I like you,’ he blurts out.
I pause as he says that. Does he like me because I stood up to his dad or because I’m not wearing a bra? He likes me? Like is a strange word in any case. I like ham, for example. It doesn’t rule my world. It’s a very middling emotion. But I think I’m here because I like him too. But look at everything it’s built on. My fake identity, his strange family dynamics, his cheating girlfriend…
‘I like you too.’ It doesn’t hurt to at least say that out loud, eh? ‘But…’
But I don’t get to finish. Outside his parents’ house, hiding in a bush under the dim street lights, he reaches in and kisses me. Woah. It’s unexpected, but I don’t push him away. His hand to the side of my face, the soft pressure of his lips against mine. You kiss nice. He puts a hand to my lower back and pulls me in and I grab a handful of his hair, there’s a moment when our mouths are just touching, exhaling gently. And a feeling that spreads down my chest, that takes hold of my shoulders, that warms and draws me in.
Shit. I really really like you too.
SIX
‘I went out with someone whose family were tossers. His dad was a casual misogynist and used to grab my bum when his son wasn’t looking,’ Michelle tells me as we look over the monthly reports. ‘His mum was also a huge fan of The Osmonds, like she had a T-shirt with Donny’s face on it, emblazoned across her tits. She used to follow them on tour.’
I stand over the conference-room desk, listening. I don’t mind Donny, less enthused by the misogyny, but Cameron’s family were next-level tossers. ‘They were really awful, Michelle.’
She opens a box of doughnuts, taking one out and biting into it. ‘But still, he kissed you on the pavement, so this thing has legs, right?’ she says, chewing at the same time.
Michelle is the only person I’ve told about the weekend’s events as I don’t want to get anyone else’s hopes up, least of all my own. It was just a kiss, nothing more, because the follow-up options would have been impromptu sex in a bush, sex back at my parents’ house or sex in the downstairs bathroom of his family home where I’d just made a speedy exit. So after we kissed, he went back to the jaws of the worst sixtieth birthday party in history and I went to find a cab and some fried chicken that I brought back home to share with my mum’s dog.
‘We’ve had such a shaky start. He thinks I’m in catering and I pretty much despise his family. It just feels like hard work from the off.’
‘But theGhostbusterscostumes?’
‘And? I wore the same jumper as Pamela in returns last month. This doesn’t mean we’re destined to be together.’
Michelle laughs as the doors of the office open and people file in. It’s what I do at the beginning of a week, I gather representatives from every department and we have a chat over coffee and doughnuts. Good Krispy Kremes with the toppings as I feel that’s the antidote to any Monday morning.
Speaking of Pamela, she walks in with a box and places it on the table. We’re not in the same pea-green jumper today for which I’m glad as Pamela is in her late fifties and last time, it gave me a severe crisis of fashion confidence. Pamela came to our company having only ever worked in biscuit factories. She said there were perks of sorting through bags of shortbread, but at least with this gig she doesn’t have to wear a hairnet and a pinny and she has more interesting stories for the dinner table.
‘Morning.’ I smile. ‘You come bearing gifts?’
‘I’ll say,’ she mutters, her eyes wide open. ‘There’s a problem with the new vibes with the glitter. We’re not sure if they’re overheating, but they’re all coming back in dribs and drabs. That was maybe the wrong turn of phrase to use…’ She opens the box and pulls out a vibrator that’s been returned to us in a large Ziploc bag which makes it look like evidence in a crime scene. ‘They also sent a picture.’
‘What the hell of?’ I’m imagining an inflamed vulva, crispy burnt pubes, we really don’t pay Pamela enough.
‘She sent a photo of how she put it down on the bed and it left a burn mark on her sheets.’
