“Do you want to go grab some sushi?”
“Sure, why not?” I grab my bag. I love Simon. He’s tall with blond curly hair, sort of surfielooking, not my type though. He’s hard to explain, but you know those guys that are just too nice. Anyway he’s a great friend and he always says the right things. There has got to be some perks to hanging out with psychologists. We drive and then walk to our favourite Sushi Train in the city, a place we usually frequent about once a week when we have a long lunch. We plan them on the same days for this purpose especially. Simon is telling me in great detail about the date he had on the weekend. He thinks the girl is a stage one clinger, apparently she was talking babies. I smile, although my thoughts are anywhere but on Simon’s date and proposed children. He opens the door to the restaurant in an exaggerated bow and holds his arm out to me and I link mine with his.
“Our sushi awaits my lady,” he says and gives me a wink. He always calls me my lady in reference to the historical romance novels I love. I smile at our ease with each other—he is so uncomplicated. Why can’t I love a guy like Simon? Why do I have to have Bastard player lover syndrome? We watch the train come around the table, while the group in front of us pay their account. They finish with the cashier and turn and I bump head first straight into Joshua. Ben and Adrian are behind him. Oh shit, I step back in shock. What are they doing here? My arm is still linked with Simon’s and I just stare at Joshua dumbfounded. I did not expect this. Adrian comes forward and gives me a kiss on the cheek.
“Hi Natasha,” he smiles at me.
“Oh hi, Adrian,” I push out. “Ben,” I nod to him and he nods back. I smile at Joshua and he just glares at me. Shit. This is uncomfortable. Unable to control myself I take a quick peek at him, why does he have to be so damn attractive in his grey pinstripe suit? Looking all flawless. His dark olive skin and square jaw only accentuate his piercing blue eyes. His body radiates power and at the moment… anger. I can feel the contempt dripping from his every pore. Of course, I look like total shit in my scrubs and no makeup. This is a total disaster. I drop Simon’s arm like a hot potato.
“Um, this is Simon.” I introduce him to the three men.
Adrian shakes his hand first. “Nice to meet you, Adrian.”
Simon smiles, “Pleasure.” Then Ben holds out his hand, Simon shakes it and then Simon holds out his hand to shake Joshua’s hand. Joshua stares at him blank–faced and keeps his hands in his pockets, unwilling to shake his hand. I frown uncomfortably.
Simon raises his eyebrows. “Problem?” he says to Joshua.
Joshua glares at him. “You tell me,” he snaps. Oh shit, what is he playing at?
Adrian cuts in, “We had better be going.” He seems embarrassed. “Lovely to see you Tash,” he smiles and gives me a quick peck on the cheek. Ben smiles and Joshua storms off. Simon and I look at each other. I am unable to hide my horror.
“Who was that?” Simon frowns.
“Ex–boyfriend,” I mutter.
“I know why he’s an ex. He’s a prick.” I smile and nod nervously. I hardly taste my damn sushi. I just stare into space. Simon is oblivious, rambling on and on about crap, who cares whatever. For ten minutes I listen to his constant jabbering. He is really starting to annoy me now. Just shut the fuck up, I’m trying to think here, I’m holding my temples. What an absolute bastard, I am boiling mad. How dare he be so rude to my verbal diarrhoea friend? I take out my phone and text the number I have for him, not even knowing if that is in fact still his number.
You’re an asshole.
I wait and scowl. It probably isn’t even his number. I stole it off Mum’s phone about two years ago. Bloody Mum, can’t even save a number right. My phone beeps a message.
No, you’re the asshole.
What! Is he kidding? How am I an asshole? How dare he? Who the hell does he think he is? I text back.
You have got to be kidding.
I smile. There, that showed him, how dare he say I’m an asshole? I am definitely not an asshole. He is unfucking believable. My phone beeps a message.
FUCK OFF
What the fuck? Red steam is shooting out of my ears. No guy, or anyone actually, has ever told me to fuck off, and especially not in capital letters in print. I am infuriated. I want to throw my new iPhone across the restaurant. I start to drum my fingers on the table, doubletime. Simon is still oblivious to my rage, god he really is docile.