Page 38 of Harper's Holiday Romance
“Well?”
“It’s good. It’s really good.”
“The alcohol can sneak up on you though. If you’re going to start drinking them at home, just don’t drive afterwards,” Julia advised.
“I think that’s pretty frowned upon anyway,” I said.
“Is it? We have a ten-drink limit in the states.”
I almost choked on the straw in my Aperol Spritz. “Seriously?”
“No.” Julia smirked. “It’s just as illegal as it is in the UK.”
Julia, one point. Harper, zero.
“Billie’s going to love that,” I chuckled.
“What?”
“She keeps track in her phone of all the times she’s tricked me into believing something.”
It’s true. It was entitled,Harper’s Naivety. Her theory, if she noted them all down, she could one day create a column forHarper’s BazaarMagazine with that exact title. I couldn’t fault her ambition.
“And there are a lot?” Julia asked.
“Hey—” I groaned.
“I’m sorry. That was presumptuous.”
“Yes, there are a lot, but there’s bound to be when your best friend makes it her life’s goal to trick you.”
“I need to see this list,” Julia joked.
“Trust me, you don’t. If anyone sees that list, they’ll think I’m dumb.”
The waiter arrived with starters: a portion of vegetable samosas and mushroom hot pot rice with truffle oil, which looked like risotto with its creamy consistency.
“The smell.” I inhaled. The word foodie was invented for me. It wasn’t just a necessity; it was a hobby. The option of à la carte for breakfast, lunch, and dinner was a five-star dream.
“Do you come on holiday with your parents often?” I asked.
Julia smirked. “I do have friends, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“I was not getting at anything. I only spent a few hours with your parents yesterday, and I’d go on holiday with them, so there’s no judgment here.”
“Hmm, okay, well when you’ve spent twenty-nine years of your life with them you might think a bit differently.” She sipped the remainder of her “Iced Tea”.
“In answer to your question, not that often, but occasionally my dad likes me to vacation with them. My brothers have kids now and little interest in being anything other than self-absorbed; so here I am.” She placed her hands under her chin in an angelic pose.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” I asked. It was presumptuous. There had been no admission she was even into girls.
“Oh, I’m not gay.” Julia’s face was unreadable.
“Oh, God. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.” I looked down at the lonely rice granules in my dish, moving them from one side of the bowl to the other.
Julia reached over and placed her hand on my arm. “I’m joking.” She laughed.
“Oh, so you are gay?” It needed clarification.
