‘Clicker? Loser.’ He laughed in her face, easily holding the remote control out of her reach whilst shovelling a chunky piece of fresh tomato into his smug mouth. ‘These,’ he waggled them at her, ‘are called buttons.’
She snorted, almost coughing up a piece of lettuce in the process. ‘Buttons! Oooo, where’s Cinders? It’s a clicker mate, you press the button, it clicks.’
‘Yes! Button, you said it yourself. Buttons you press. Not click.’
‘Yeah, well, button off Yoda, and give me it back. It’s my TV.’
He pulled a face at her and scrolled through the channels.
‘It says “property of Hans” on the back of the TV. It’s labelled. A few bits are, actually. What’s that about?’
Rebecca rolled her eyes. ‘I used to label my stuff with one of those machine labellers, fridge stuff, my shampoo. He’s a hairy dude, he used to cost me a fiver every time he had a shower. He bought the cheap stuff and used mine.’ She lunged for the remote again, almost losing her plate in the process. He swerved her and sat back, tucking into his food.
‘That explains that then. Still, Hans said that there’s a good film on, I thought we could watch it.’ He looked across at her. ‘Unless you have plans?’ He looked around him, as though a suitor was going to ride up the stairs any second on a tall white steed.
‘Er no,’ she said to her steak, ‘no plans tonight.’ That would cover her for now, but what about the next night? ‘Truth is, it’s a busy time here so my social calendar takes a hit.’ Too far. ‘I still go out, obviously.’
‘Ah yes, we have that dinner, don’t we, Saturday night?’
He was focused back on the television now, but Rebecca hadn’t moved.
‘Dinner?’
‘Yeah,’ he said, munching away as he made himself at home. They sounded like a bloody married couple now. ‘Holly and Hans’s place, they’re having a few friends over. After the baby shower.’
Fuuuddgggeeeee nuggets. The baby shower. Arghhh! She’d forgotten, and she hadn’t been shopping yet, or got them a baby gift. And she didn’t know about the dinner after either.
‘Oh, that. Yeah, of course.’ She flapped her hand nonchalantly. It was her day off tomorrow, Hans was coming in to work. She could escape into town and get what she needed. Ring Holly and get the skinny on what Saturday was all about, and why she needed to be tied to the train track too. The baby shower was fine, she loved Holly, but a dinner? What for? Would she and Luke have to arrive together?
‘Yeah, I figured we could go together, share a ride?’ She could feel his eyes on her, and she nodded, forcing her fork to pick up more food. ‘Great, I’m glad. I hate these things normally. I avoid them, if I’m honest.’
Rebecca groaned gratefully. ‘God, me too. I mean, I love them both obviously, but their friends and everyone? It’s a lot.’ She reached for her wine, taking a gulp to push down the tide of social dread she felt wash over her. Glugging it down noisily, she took a breath, and he rushed into the silence.
‘It is a lot! When he invited me here for the shower, well – I mean I was never going to come. I never do when he invites me over, but then I saw the invitation on the fridge, and I just went for it. Booked a ticket, packed a bag. I mean, I never do that. If you knew me …’ He flicked the remote control around in his hand, gesturing wildly. ‘I mean, really knew me, you’d laugh. You really would. Dad …’ He deflated, and his conversation tapered off to a whisper. ‘It’s just not me, that’s all. So, I’m just glad that we’re going together, we can brave it and then come back here and drink enough wine to recover.’ He blushed then, pushing his glasses back up his nose. ‘I mean, if you want to drink wine. You might have plans for after.’
There it was again, the plans thing.
‘You have a lot of plans, back home?’ Deflection was a woman’s best weapon. That and her brain.
He winced, sitting back before answering her. The TV was on, but the volume was low. The menu screen listed some movies Rebecca had never seen before. Now they were facing each other, their legs tucked up beneath them, plates in their laps. Their knees touched, but neither made a move to pull back. Not wanting to drop the steak in their laps, probably. She was enjoying it a lot more than she thought she would; given his murdering of the top ten and level of noise coming from the kitchen, she’d half expected an inedible mess. He swallowed a mouthful of food, and Rebecca watched his jaw flex with the movements. The more she looked at him, the hotter he looked. He licked his lips, and she found herself copying him. She tried to squint at the wine bottle on the coffee table in front of them, to check the proof. She must be getting squiffy.
‘No, not really. I worked a lot.’ The blood drained from his face. ‘Oh shit, work. I haven’t even checked my emails yet today.’ He went to get his phone out of his pocket, tipping the wine in his hand straight over himself, and his mostly empty plate. When it hit the ceramic, it bounced up, all over Rebecca, and her food. Squealing like a pair of schoolgirls high on sugar, the two of them jumped up, dropping everything they still held to the floor and leaving the pair of them standing on the sofa, wet through and smelling like steak.
‘You idiot!’
‘Jesus, I’m sorry! I was reaching for my phone!’
‘Yeah, well, I didn’t think you were reaching for Excalibur, did I, you total klutz!’ She looked down at her fabric sofa, the one Hans had bought her one Christmas by way of a bonus. It was grey fabric, plain but
