Page 34 of Wilder at Heart
I’m sure if I offered myself to Theo, he’d go for it quite happily, but equally, if I didn’t, he wouldn’t waste a second contemplating what could have been.
He doesn’t give a flying fuck either way.
It must be incredible to move through life with that kind of cavalier confidence. The stakes seem low for him. They’re high for me, which is why I’ve always over-thought everything to do with guys and sex.
It’s not like I’m envious of his lifestyle. If anything, I can admit to myself deep down that I judge him a little for it. But I’m envious that his sexual exploits seem to wash over him like water off a duck’s back. Just for once, I’d love to be like him. To have laughingly propositioned Jonathan earlier this evening in his girlfriend’s absence, genuinely not caring about whether he took or left my offer because I was so empowered by my belief in my sexual potency.
Because that’s the thing. Not caring is very empowering. Caring too much, on the other hand, makes your entire life a fucking prison.
But back to Theo. He’s thrown me a bone, and the semantics of what he said shouldn’t matter, but they do. So I throw him a bone back.
‘You’re a lot better at kissing than you are at talking.’
He slaps the counter in defeat. ‘Tell me about it.’
‘I reckon those crumpets are ready.’ The cheese is audibly sizzling, and the smell of it is driving me crazy.
‘Shit. Yes.’ He spins around and tackles the grill pan with an oven glove.
‘Did you feed Trixie and Dixie cheesy crumpets?’ I can’t help ask, and maybe if we can laugh about the steady stream of women who clearly pass through this beautiful flat, it’ll feel less horrifying.
‘Like hell I did.’ He uses a silicon burger flipper to move the crumpets from the grill pan to a large plate. They are perfect, bubbling discs of golden magic. ‘Dig in. I put them both in a cab as soon as I came to my senses.’
‘Camebeing the operative word.’
He sniggers. Again, the not-giving-a-shit thing is fascinating. ‘Something like that.’
‘Classy.’ I pick up a crumpet, but it’s too hot to eat yet. Ouch. I drop it back on the plate.
‘Here.’ He hands me a napkin.
‘Thanks.’ Given we’re actually talking about this, I figure it won’t kill me to adopt a little of his cavalier attitude. I can ask a question that I deem awkward, and the sky will not fall. ‘Is it scary having a threesome?’
‘Scary? Nope. It’s kind of ridiculous. But it was pretty fucking fun.’
I grimace.
‘Not a fan of the idea?’
I press my thighs together under the counter. ‘Definitely not. No judgement,’ I add.
He sniggers. ‘Sure. You’re not judging me at all. I have a question for you, Little Miss Sensible.’
The way he says it sounds—I don’t know—loaded. I eye him suspiciously and take another slug of my wine. ‘What?’
‘When I kissed you at uni—what was it like?’
There’s a pause where I feel very foolish indeed.
‘You really don’t remember?’
‘No. Sorry—I was hammered.’
‘You don’t look remotely sorry.’
‘I’m not sorry because it’s rude not to remember. I’m sorry because I’d like to be able to imagine it. I definitely held back tonight. A lot. But when you mentioned it—I thought maybe that other kiss was pretty wild.’ He raises his eyebrows at me as he braves a crumpet and sinks his teeth in. ‘Fuck me, that’s good,’ he says, his mouth full. A couple of drops of butter dribble over his plump lower lip towards his beard-thing, and I stare as he catches them with his tongue. Fuck’s sake. The butter-porno thing is a big deal for me tonight, it seems.
‘I’m not sure you’d consider it wild. After all, there were only two of us involved.’ I go for a second attempt at a crumpet, peeling off a bit of the cheese this time and testing it in my mouth. It’s perfect.
