Authors: A. L. Michael
‘Oh, she’s a saint. I may need to take drugs to get through this wedding.’
‘I’ll just be taking pictures. I think it’ll be the same thing.’ Chandra grinned.
***
The meeting with Harry during the week was always going to be awkward. It was made worse by the fact that David Crane had decided Tabby’s new role as ‘female blogger’ was to talk about sex. Because that’s what women did, obviously.
So it was a wonderful morning where Tabby and Harry had to sit down with a far too small glass desk between them and talk about sex. Or talk about writing about sex. Which, in Tabby’s book was clearly worse. Because Harry wouldn’t only be criticising her angle on a story, but really, he’d be criticising her technique. Not that she had much technique beyond ‘always use protection’ and ‘try not to elbow them in the face’. But still. She didn’t want Harry knowing that.
‘So…’ Harry cleared his throat. ‘Sex.’
Normally, this would be the point where Tabby said, ‘No thank you,’ or made some joke about his boy-whore ways. But somehow she couldn’t see that diffusing the tension. Harry seemed to be acting as though nothing had happened. Except for the fact that he wouldn’t meet her eyes and was fidgeting like a seven-year-old waiting for his dentist appointment.
‘Right. Was there an angle on this? Or I’m just supposed to dispense almighty wisdom, like “don’t get pregnant” and “don’t get diseases”?’
Harry sighed. ‘I think the government has got that covered. Although thanks for taking this seriously.’
Tabby glared. ‘I am taking this seriously. It’s not my fault talking about sex makes you uncomfortable.’
‘Me?’ Harry laughed. ‘You are joking? You’ve been bright red since you sat down. Every time you hear the word sex you seem to glow a little brighter.’
‘I do not!’
‘Sex,’ Harry said, and Tabby felt her cheeks warm. ‘Sex sex sex!’
She covered her cheeks. ‘Stop being a child!’
‘Me!’
‘Yes, you!’ Tabby stood up, unsure of where to go.
‘Running away again, are we, Tabs? You’re getting quite the reputation.’
‘Ah, the arrogant bastard we all know and love has returned. So nice to see you again, Mr Shulman, I remember you from my first meeting here, before I was tricked into thinking you had a personality!’
Harry just grinned in that irritating way he had when he had the upper hand. ‘Huh.’
‘“Huh.” That’s your response? “Huh”?’ Tabby glared at him with absolute fury. And the fact that he wasn’t at all annoyed was irritating her even more. So he was fine with everything. It didn’t mean anything. He was just Harry Shulman, editor and shag-about-town, taking a chance when he had it and completely devoid of human emotion. She couldn’t even bear to look at him.
She wanted to walk out of the door, but instead started pacing back and forth. He won if she left. So instead she was going to rant until he apologised. Although what he’d be apologising for, she wasn’t exactly sure. For being an arse. Yes. An arrogant arse.
‘Of all the pigheaded, arrogant, mono-syllabic – ’
‘Mono-syllabic?’
‘ – responses. I mean, really, who do you think you are, Harry? Are you really convinced you’re so fucking special – ’
And apparently he did, because when she turned to continue pacing, he was standing in front of her, blocking her way. She stared resolutely at his throat, refusing to look up to meet his eyes. She watched as that vein throbbed in his neck again, felt her heart racing.
‘Move out of my way,’ she said softly.
‘Nope.’
‘Why are you doing this?’ Her anger was starting to still and turn into something a little like fear. Her fingertips were throbbing and she bit her lip, still staring straight ahead.
‘I’m proving a point,’ Harry said, and lifted her chin so she had no choice but to lock eyes with him.
‘Which is?’ Tabby whispered, but she really didn’t want to know, because he was inches from her and radiating heat. He was magnetic, and he knew it, and as soon as she gave in, he won.
‘You want me as much as I want you,’ he said slowly, tracing a line behind her ear with his fingertip.
‘I…you…’ Tabby took a deep breath and blinked, before taking a step back. She immediately missed Harry’s warmth. She also immediately managed to convince herself that denial was clearly the best thing here. Although she couldn’t quite figure out why, with Harry standing there looking at her with all this affection, like he truly cared about her. It was a game, it had to be. She looked at Harry, with his ruffled hair and desperate expression, like it was up to her to make a choice. Like she could think clearly. Right, be defensive, that was the ticket.
‘Look, Harry, it’s not me. It’s just that we’ve been spending so much time together.’ She backed away, chattering quickly, as if afraid she’d lose the nerve if she stopped talking, and just beg him to take her on the floor of the office. ‘You haven’t had time for your boy-whore ways. It’s difficult to have a life with this job, I know. I haven’t done my knitting in weeks.’
She could hear the clapping sound as Harry threw his head in his hands and moaned. ‘Seriously? I’m telling you I want to ravish you and you want to make a jumper.’
She fixed him with a glare, which was easy, as he was looking at her with look number twenty-five: Tabby is Crazy. ‘You don’t want to ravish me. I’m just the only female in the immediate area. And I’m knitting a scarf, thank you very much.’ Yes, that sounded in control, belittling him, that would get the power back.
Harry laughed, but it was an ugly, harsh sound. ‘You’re unbelievable, you know that? You think I follow my dick around like some sort of divining rod, looking for the nearest available shag? Jesus!’
‘I didn’t mean – ’
‘That I don’t give a shit about who I sleep with as long as I sleep with someone? Oh no, I get it, thanks. Wouldn’t want to think you’ve actually got to know me over the last few weeks.’
What was she supposed to say? ‘Oh, OK, you’re right. Wanna have sex?’ She could carry on fighting until he eventually gave up and went home with one of the model-type girls who at this very moment were probably primping in their cubicles in the hopes that Harry would notice them. Then she could go back to her life of writing and whining about Harry and he could carry on with his regularly scheduled programming. That would make sense.
Or, she could take a chance, go into it knowing she would get hurt, but at least she’d chosen it. Maybe she wouldn’t feel so tense all the time, too. If sleeping with Harry was the easiest way to get him off her mind, then think of all the time she’d be saving. It would be like an investment.
‘Tabs? Any thoughts on anything I’ve said?’ Harry looked suddenly exhausted, leaning against the desk for support, crossing his arms.
‘You’re right.’
‘I’m right? About?’
‘About everything. About the fact that I should know you better. That I do know you better.’ She took a step closer and hoped she knew what she was doing. ‘That I’m a ridiculous and irrational person most of the time. Although, I’m going to swear that I’m a lot more normal when you’re not around. You put me on edge.’
‘And do you think that means something?’ Harry raised his eyebrows and unfolded his arms as Tabby edged closer to him, until she was standing right in front of him. Slouched against the desk, they were eye to eye.
‘Well.’ Tabby tried for a thoughtful, innocent look. ‘We’re both writers, Harry. I suppose we should do some research.’
Harry was painfully beautiful when he smiled. He hooked his fingers through the belt loops on her jeans and pulled her closer. She was back in the warmth again.
‘I’m a big fan of research.’ He grinned against her mouth.
‘I thought you might be,’ she said, and this time when he kissed her, she didn’t pull away. If anything, she fell into him, allowing him to lead her. She clung to his arms, and briefly, an elated inner-voice squeaked, ‘I’m kissing Harry! And nothing bad happened!’
Then she told herself to shut the hell up, and kissed him back.
‘I think I might be a gay man,’ Chandra said suddenly, not taking her eyes off the TV screen. It was many, many hours into the lock-in. They were having a Nothing Day.
‘That’s what happens when we watch the entire Queer As Folk box set, I told you.’ Tabby shrugged, returning with a tray holding three mugs of tea, three apples and a bar of Dairy Milk.
Chandra lifted her head from the sofa cushion to precariously balance her tea. ‘But look how pretty they are! Straight guys aren’t that pretty! They’re clearly having a better time than us!’
Tabby said nothing, quietly reliving an embarrassing teenage-esque make-out session with a guy who was just as pretty, and most definitely straight. She settled in the middle of the sofa, lifting Rhi’s legs and resting them over her own. She wondered if her cheeks were bright red.
‘Plus, the nineties were clearly just a better time.’ Rhi shrugged.
‘Yes.’ Tabby rolled her eyes as Rhi passed her a joint, pausing to inhale. ‘Crimping, parachute pants and the Spice Girls. I remember them fondly.’ She coughed a little, and rested her head back against the sofa, enjoying the feeling of her neck muscles relaxing.
They had spent almost two days on that sofa. Occasionally, one of them put on a jumper and walked to the corner shop for milk, chocolate, wine or tobacco, but beyond that the outside world was a dangerous place. At some point in the afternoon there’d been a sudden frenzy of activity that constituted doing the washing up, making a healthy lunch, and somewhat sobering up again. But that’s not what these days were for. They were for checking out completely.
‘Chands?’ Tabby proffered the joint, knowing that her friend would refuse, but always finding it impolite to bypass her.
‘Nope. Mum would kill me if she knew.’
‘Your mum would kill you if she knew you’d shagged half of Holloway, but that hasn’t stopped you.’ Rhi grinned, and after an outraged squawk, Chandra laughed too. Tabby found it strange that after years of friendship, mainly tied together by the fact that she loved them both, Chandra and Rhi could only really agree about Chandra’s promiscuity. And that Dick the Prick was, indeed, a prick.
After a few quiet moments staring at the television screen, realising with mounting horror that the VHS needed to be changed, and that would involve moving, Rhi spoke up. ‘I need to make cookies!’
‘No, you need to load the next episode,’ Chandra whined.
‘No. No one needs to do anything. That’s the point,’ Tabby said firmly. ‘But if you’re baking and I don’t have to move, I’m completely supportive.’
Rhi nodded, getting that determined look and strode for the kitchen. How getting stoned seemed to put Rhi in an energetic cooking mood, Tabby didn’t know, but she absolutely appreciated it. Chandra reached out a hand towards the TV, then gave up, exhausted.
‘Doing nothing is hard work,’ she said.
‘Tell me about it.’
Tabby looked at her phone. A message from Harry, asking if she was freaking out yet. Tabby considered her current state – semi-stoned, somewhat drunk, about-to-eat-cookies – and realised, no, she was not freaked out. She was not anything. Except maybe slightly guilty she hadn’t told her friends.
‘I’ve been snogging Harry,’ she said simply.
Chandra blinked, and looked confused. ‘Harry? Your editor Harry? The one that I’ve been begging you to sleep with for the last few weeks, and you resolutely refused, because….reasons and stuff. That Harry?’
Tabby made a face. ‘Erm, yep.’
‘Hey, Rhi,’ Chandra yelled to the kitchen. ‘You owe me ten quid!’
Rhi walked in slowly, and in the silence, Tabby could hear the rant she was preparing in her head. ‘Nu-uh, it was when she sleeps with him. Kissing doesn’t count. She’ll chicken out before going through with the deed.’
Tabby turned to her friend. ‘You’re not going to lecture me?’
Rhi grinned, wiping a smudge of flour from her cheek. ‘I am a twenty-seven-year-old Masters student working in a silent, empty library seven hours a day. I also hate people. Don’t listen to anything I have to say.’
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘OK, look Tabs.’ Rhi perched on the edge of the sofa. ‘You remember when I was dating that Sophie girl and you said she was a stuck-up cow because she corrected your grammar when I first introduced you? You told me that and then you never mentioned it again until I dumped her. That’s what good friends do. They give you a heads up and then they leave you the hell alone to make your own mistakes.’
‘So you do think this is a mistake?’
‘I think…I think you’re a strong person who knows when things are wrong. And we might all be a bit overprotective over the last incident. Not all male editors are evil. Not all kisses have to mean something. Not all relationships lead to losing your job and starting your career from scratch.’
‘Yeah!’ Chandra chimed in. ‘You know you’ve been a scaredy cat, Tabs. And now Rhi’s given her blessing. One less obstacle.’ She grinned knowingly.
Tabby looked back and forth between her two friends. ‘You knew this whole situation was going to occur. And now you know I’m going to freak out because I have no excuse but to – ’
‘Be happy?’ Chandra offered.
‘Enjoy yourself?’ Rhi suggested.
‘Lose control.’ Tabby sighed.
Chandra made the massive effort of sitting up so she could hug Tabby, and Rhi reached across to stroke her hair. ‘Sometimes, losing control is the best thing you can do.’
‘Speaking of.’ Chandra grinned. ‘More wine?’
‘It is almost the evening,’ Tabby pointed out.
‘Wait till cookies. Then wine. Then some sort of comforting eighties movie.’ Rhi strode back to the kitchen, and they heard the radio go on.
‘So…you’re supportive?’
‘Jeez, Tabs, you’re not marrying the guy. Have a little fun, see where it leads.’ Chandra settled back down on the sofa, stretching out her legs over Tabby.
‘Yeah, it’s just a physical thing. Just a fling for the remainder of my contract. And then we can part ways, no hurt feelings or complications!’ Tabby started to cheer up at the prospect. An easy getaway, an exit strategy. Just in case.
‘That wasn’t…’ Chandra sighed. ‘Fine, but if that’s what you want, you have to let him know that. He might get attached.’