I storm towards the car and get in. I start up the engine and pull out of their driveway.
“Please, try not to hit that wheelie bin, or we’ll never get out alive.”
“Shut up, you’re distracting me.”
Evan holds up his hands and nods at Ryan. I pull out onto the road and head home, finally starting to relax a little. It’s not that the evening wasn’t enjoyable – just that being near Ryan always makes me feel a frustration that I never feel otherwise, something that only arseholes like him can bring out in me.
I switch on the radio and play the first station I find.
“So…this Ryan…”
“Drop it.”
“You really don’t like him, do you?”
“Not at all.”
“Mmm…shame.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, from the way he was looking at your arse, I’d say he likes you.”
“Evan!”
He shrugs.
“He’s annoying, self-centred, and…rude. Obnoxious, too. I can’t stand him.”
“Okay, okay, calm down.”
“Was he really looking at my arse?”
“Uh-huh.”
“But was he judging it, or admiring it?”
“I’d say he looked like he couldn’t wait to—”
“Evan! This is me we’re talking about here!”
“You asked.”
“You didn’t have to go into detail.”
I’m a terrible mother.
We sink into silence until we’re parked in front of our house. When we get inside, I kick off my shoes and take off my jacket, heading straight for the fridge.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Evan asks from behind my back, arms crossed.
“I just need another half a glass.”
“Mmm…”
“What?”
“You don’t like him – do you?”
