Page 39 of Harper's Holiday Romance
“Yes. I am a fully-fledged homosexual.”
Julia, two points. Harper, zero.
It was embarrassingly easy.
“But no girlfriend?” I probed.
“No girlfriend.” She looked disappointed by such a statement. My intuition sensed a recent breakup, but it wasn’t my place to ask.
I tucked in to the main course the second the plates touched the table. I opted for a vegetarian Pad Thai; woksautéed noodles were my favourite. We chose to share a fresh tropical roll. It was essentially a wrap filled with vegetables, but the wrap was made from rice paper. The presentation was immaculate.
We were about done with our meals. Desserts had been considered, but my stomach was expanding by the second and screaming for me to leave it alone. Julia ordered a soft drink to finish, as did I.
“Thank you for being nice to me today.” I recoiled.
I don’t know why I said it.
The words made me sound timid, which I hated. After spending the day with Julia, who I assumed I would hate, strangely I just wanted her to like me.
“It meant a lot for me to see the turtles.” They were memories I would never forget. I averted eye contact. My lemonade only had a few slurps left, but I stared at the small layer of liquid like it was about to tell me my fortune.
“Thank you for being nice? Why do you say that like it shocks you that it’s possible?” Julia asked.
I raised my eyebrow. Really? Surely, she wasn’t that oblivious.
“What?” she probed. “C’mon, Fox. Say how you really feel.”
After the initial hatred subsided the day trip had been a success. I didn’t want to spoil it by making things awkward, but in the spirit of being open and honest.
Here goes—
“Well, you’ve been unfriendly on several occasions. I kind of had you down for a twenty-first century mean girl.”
Regina George, eat your heart out.
“Oh, so you think I’m a bitch?”Julia cocked her head.
I’d called her a lot worse in the presence of Billie and Sarah, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Erm—”
“Worse than a bitch?” She quipped. I swear there was a hint of a smile on her lips, but I daren’t look at her face long enough to confirm.
“The title, Spawn of Satan may have been used.”
She gasped, then proceeded to knock back a complimentary tequila shot before laughing out loud.
“Why is that so funny?” I asked.
“After our little bathroom incident I think I described you to my friend as Lucifers mistress.”
Touché.
She couldn’t stop laughing; the sound was refreshing. I should’ve been offended, but the slow cackle erupting from her throat made me forget unpleasantries.
“Me? But I didn’t do anything wrong!” I proclaimed my innocence.
“Neither did I,” she challenged.
