More moans.
Will was nice enough. A bit dopey. Extremely nerdy. Irritating most of the time. Also, cute. He took photographs of everything (being a journalist for a photography magazine would encourage that) and had a killer sense of humour that matched Stacey’s, so it was easy to like him. Despite that, we fell into a weird we-can’t-stand-each-other-but-tolerate-each-other-for-Stacey’s-sake relationship.
Until my world fell apart and everything changed.
He carried me through my darkest despair, lifted me when I needed carrying, and when I started to slowly piece myself back together (I wasn’t sure how well I succeeded with that), I fell back into enjoying winding him up. In fact, it became a habit. The banter was amusing, and it was less complicated to play the part of the snarky mate with the deadpan delivery rather than confusing our friendship for anything else. Anything more.
Loud gasps.
Flipping the letterbox again, I peeked through.
“Show me…go on.”
What the hell was he talking about?
“You first. No, you. Oh, wow. You’re naughty…”
His laptop was on my coffee table and he was sitting on my sofa leaning forward with hands clasped to his mouth.
“OK, OK. Hang on.”
He pulled his t-shirt over his head and threw it behind him.
“Erm…no. I don’t have much. Chest hair doesn’t seem to be something I excel in growing.”
I watched his bare shoulders and caught sight of something black on the screen.
Was that a mask?
“I’ve shown you. Now it’s my turn to see. What? You want to see mine again? Sweetheart, this seems a little bit of a one-sided situation here.” He laughed. “I know it’s impressive. Yes, I know it’s worth seeing again.”
Oh, Jesus.
He leant forward and changed the angle of his laptop. “Now that has to be one of the best Halloween costumes I’ve ever seen.”
Increased gasps.
It didn’t take me forever to piece the situation together. Will was in my flat, sitting on my sofa, Skyping a woman wearing a rubber mask and reacquainting his penis with his curled hand.
“Oh yeah. You’re a filthy Catwoman. Come and milk me dry.”
That was it. I put my key into the lock and pushed the door open, smashing it against the wall and causing Will to stand up like his arse was on fire.
“Skye? What the hell are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here? This is my flat, Will!” I shielded my eyes from all the nakedness and turned around as he fumbled to find his glasses.
“I thought you were away this weekend!”
“Jesus, bloody Christ!” I shrieked as he let go of his junk once he’d located his glasses on the coffee table.
“I can explain.”
“Excuse me?” We both turned to the laptop as Catwoman peered from the screen. “Who is that?” she asked.
“It’s OK,” Will stuttered, eyes on me. His Clark Kent black-rimmed specs highlighted his green eyes. I’d always been envious of the colour – light, bright, a touch of gold to make them sparkle when he was in a mischievous mood. “She’s just my…flatmate.”
“Flatmate?” I repeated dramatically. Will shook his head in a panic. He knew me too well. “What the fuck?” I was going to have fun with this. “I’ve been your fiancé for eighteen months and you go and do this to me?” I leant down to the screen to wrap up my wind-up. “Again!”
“Who is she?” Catwoman asked as she took off her mask.
“My name is Skye and it appears you already know my…”
“Skye,” Will warned.
“Baby daddy!” I flung myself in front of the laptop and dramatically sobbed through my laughter as Will raised his eyes to the ceiling.
“You have a child?”
“No, sweetheart!” he cooed, stroking the laptop. “This is Skye. My friend. She appears to think she’s being incredibly funny, but I’m not finding this situation in any way amusing.” He said through his teeth as he swiped me on the bum with his boxers.
“You rotten, scumbag!” Catwoman shouted as she threw her mask behind her. A piece of fabric in the background fell down in one corner revealing a framed U2 poster on the wall, which seemed to catch Will’s attention. He looked confused as he tipped his head to get a better look.
“Wait,” he said, “what is that?”
He was crouched down now, his back in complete view, dimples at the base of his spine and something else I appeared to find extremely thrilling.
Will’s bum.
AKA buns of steel.
Eggs in a handkerchief.
Glutes to die for.
Booty of perfection.
What the hell was I doing? I’d seen Will’s bum numerous times but always when it was clad in denim or that tasty tweed suit that fit him really well or those cute trousers he wore to work. The ones with the turn ups and the pockets on his amazing– oh crap. I’d admired his bum before, and I wasn’t even aware I was doing it.
Was I?
“Is that…Adrian’s poster?” Will asked, still peering into the screen. I tried to hide my giggles when I realised Catwoman was his one of his colleagues’ girlfriends. “Where are you?”
“Erm…” Catwoman stuttered, and I almost told her to wrap this up because if I continued to stare at Will’s bootay I would be in serious, mind-blowing, never understanding myself again trouble. “Is it? Oh, I’m…not…sure.” In perfect comic timing, the piece of fabric on the wall fell completely, revealing a Jimi Hendrix poster and wooden letters spelling out June and Adrian.
“You told me you’d separated!” Will shouted.
“Look, Will…I’ve got to go,” she replied and on the final word she disappeared.
“Fuck me,” Will said, blowing out a breath as he rubbed the back of his head. He stood up slowly, more of his body coming into my eyeline. Twisting. Abs. Turning. Pecs. Rising up into full view and all I could think of was the word majestic. Like a glorious male Aphrodite rising from the sea. A magical image. Overwhelming and powerful. My vision had gone hazy. My body no longer strong. Where the fuck had he been hiding this body of steel and granite? More importantly, why hadn’t I noticed that I could easily
