My So-Called. A. Michael L.Читать онлайн книгу.
at her. ‘I guess. So … you’ve never been with anyone except him? How long were you together?’
‘Almost twelve years.’
‘Jesus,’ he said quietly, ‘so … are you not going to put yourself out there?’
Tig paused and just looked at him, all earnest and interested, and she was angry at herself, at how bitter she’d become, because all she could do was look at him and think What game are you playing? What do you want from me?
‘I don’t tend to share all this crap with someone I’ve only just met.’
‘Sometimes that’s the best way.’
‘Well, it makes me feel … vulnerable.’ She scowled. ‘I don’t know anything about you.’
He shrugged. ‘Ollie Carver. Twenty-nine and freaking out about it. I’m here for four months waiting for my next contract to start. And I am in a uniquely good position to help you change your life. Or at least re-enter the dating scene.’
‘Ooh, smooth.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Because you shag around a lot?’
Ollie frowned. ‘No, smart arse. I actually married my high-school sweetheart, and had to learn to date once it was all over. I was you, three years ago.’
‘Oh.’ She felt her cheeks warm. ‘Sorry.’
‘No biggie,’ he shrugged, ‘but at least you know I get where you’re coming from. And it’s a lot easier without the whole wedding thing. You lose deposits, but you save on lawyers’ fees.’
Tig tilted her head to look at this guy who had her spilling her guts after only meeting him a few hours before. ‘You seem so well adjusted.’
He laughed, loudly. ‘It’s an illusion. Tigerlily, I am an absolute mess. But I live by one rule now: don’t sacrifice my life for anyone. I do what makes me happy, and I don’t give that up. No demanding girlfriends, no ultimatums, no sacrifice. No one controls me.’
Tig tried to imagine what a life without sacrifice was like, but all she could think of was letting Ame have the last few scoops of the Haagen Dazs when she wanted them.
‘You’re thinking that sounds like a pretty selfish way to live, I’m guessing.’ He raised an eyebrow, leaning forward to capture her attention again. Whenever she met his eyes she was always a little startled.
‘Actually, I was thinking that sounds like a wonderful way to live. No obligations, no responsibilities except your own happiness. I like it, I think I’m going to steal it. How’s it working out for you?’
Ollie’s mouth twitched. ‘A little lonely,’ he admitted. ‘Women seem to think it’s me being a typical male – I won’t go see a chick flick with them if it’s not what I want to do, but that’s not really what it’s about. I don’t mind compromise, I just won’t sacrifice what I care about.’
Tig watched his face change, how he looked sad, indignant, and, yes, lonely. Someone had screwed him, obviously, but who was she to talk? And she certainly wasn’t at the point of prodding at someone else’s wounds, not yet anyway.
‘So you’ve got nothing against chick flicks?’
‘If anything, they are a weapon in my arsenal of tricks to get women to let me into their knickers,’ Ollie grinned. ‘I’m a sensitive guy.’
‘Like fuck,’ she snorted, and watched as muscles in his forearms moved. The guy was a machine, perfectly tuned. Sure, he seemed nice enough, but this was not a guy who cried, or whined when you went out with your friends, or made you feel guilty about things. Ollie was clearly a man.
‘I’m sensitive! I’m very good at feelings –- I knew what you needed this evening, didn’t I?’
‘Wine and cake? Yes, you’re a mind reader.’ She rolled her eyes.
‘I’m a fixer,’ he shrugged. ‘I knew what you needed tonight, and I know what you need now.’
‘Let me guess.’ She put on her shocked voice. ‘It’s to go home with you tonight and put on a chick flick, right?’
‘Ooh, look who got all defensive when she thinks someone’s trying to get into her panties,’ he snorted. ‘I’m not hitting on you. I’m offering to help you.’
‘With your dick,’ she snorted, almost itching for an argument. Stop punishing random men, Tigerlily, she thought to herself, shaking her head.
‘Hey New Guy! Little help?’ Anna at the bar called over, and he nodded, signalling to Tig that he’d be back in a minute.
She really needed to stop being so insane. Really. The guy was trying to be nice, as far as she could tell. He’d been in the same situation as her. He knew what it was like to suddenly be an adult and have no idea how to do any of the things you’re meant to know how to do as an adult. Like have a conversation with someone who wants to sleep with you.
This guy could teach me things, she thought, and then blacked out all the images her brain sent her way in response to that idea. He could teach her lots of things, lots of really bad things. But the point was, Ollie had survived. He’d been married, and he’d learnt how to date, and here he was, living his life on his own terms. She should be like that.
Her head hurt just thinking about it. She looked down at the invitation again, and reached up to undo her braid, gently rubbing the roots of her red hair with her fingertips, closing her eyes as it stung with relief. It was like every uptight bit of her sat in her hair, creeping down her neck muscles. She needed to relax.
And what was he asking of her? Nothing, as far as she could tell. He was offering advice. Maybe suggesting they hang out. He could be her Mr Miyagi, show her the wax-on, wax-off of the heart.
That was the saddest thing, she thought – that she didn’t know how to trust men anymore. She couldn’t read the signals, the intentions. She’d spent so long being sweet, chubby Lily with all the boy mates that the minute she got confident and Darren left, she was just … shell-shocked.
Matt had been the main one, one of their oldest friends, since secondary school. He was going to be the best man at their wedding. When he found out Darren had ended it, he’d been so sweet, all those text messages letting her know he was still her friend, he was still there for her, that things between them hadn’t changed. He’d come round, with wine and Chinese food and let her cry on him for an hour … and then put his hand down her top and tried to kiss her. She supposed she should have felt flattered, but really she just felt sick. The rest of the lads had turned on her after that, calling her a prick tease, thinking she was too good for them since she’d become a ‘skinny bitch’. She didn’t know how getting healthy and getting dumped made her the bad guy. And now Darren was doing it all over again. She downed the rest of the wine, and put her head on the table, so very tired of everything.
She needed a change. No more Misery Dinners. No more Darren. No more anger and bitterness. She had to let a little light in. After a night of swearing and violently vomiting up sambuca, obviously.
‘I was thinking we might be the answer to each other’s problems.’ Ollie reappeared and sat down opposite her. She slowly lifted her head off the table, and opened one blurry eye to look at him.
‘Owls blat?’
‘What?’
Tig took a deep breath and tried again, enunciating clearly. ‘How’s that?’
‘Well,’ Ollie leaned in, hands moving all over the place, ‘you need a nice, non-grabby fella to lead you into the dating world, show you the ropes, right?’
Tig shrugged.
‘And I need someone to stop my crazy neighbour from trying to get into my pants. Or wearing my pants. Or rolling around in a big pile of my pants.’ Ollie shook the image away. ‘You could help with that.’
‘You