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292 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 25, 2017
She kissed Dean, no, she attacked Dean, sinking her fists deep into his hair and claiming him like she was a Viking warrior and he, a helpless English milkmaid.
God, he was something else. A big dumb sweetheart. Ash just wanted to take his hand, tell him everything was going to be okay, gently steer him towards a quiet room and fuck the shit out of him.
There was a sharp tug on his hair. “Red?”
“Yeah?”
Ash’s eyebrows were raised. “You just made a face. What are you thinking about?” She looked so stern he couldn’t help but blurt out the truth.
“My grandad.”
“What the fuck!” Ash pushed his head away from her. “Ew!”
“Sorry! I mean because he has these flowers that smell kinda like your pussy and I was wondering what they were called, but I can’t ask my grandad because he might be jealous and then I was thinking about him eating pussy. And then I kind of grossed myself out, but it was only thinking about other things I was trying not to bust in my—”
Her looks, mother and housing situation, meant she was getting called a slut before she’d so much as kissed a boy. Ash had decided not to bother trying to make anyone see her differently. Instead, she got on the pill, bought the Kama Sutra (the only sex book she’d heard of) and reinvented herself as the David Bowie of fucking. People waited for her to get pregnant or some nasty STD. Instead, she got her Kingswood, modelling campaigns, a nursing degree, and a collection of knobbish but undeniably attractive ex-boyfriends.
Thank you. And Connor?” “Yeah?” Max said hopefully. “You are in the doghouse. There will be no coming near my labia for a month. It’s total labial recall.” Max let out a howl of misery.
"She thought of Dean, tearing up as he got his Best and Fairest award. The way he was never embarrassed to say exactly how he felt, to show his fear and excitement. She imagined Dean pulling their crying son into his lap and holding him, perhaps even crying himself if there was nothing else he could do. He was a man who was as soft inside as he was big outside, who was gentle even when it was to his detriment. Who had never lost that boyish way of letting every emotion radiate out of him, as though he had nothing to hide."
"They’d tried to diagnose him but there was no apparent medical explanation for his behaviour. He was just what his mum called 'away with the fairies' and Max called 'a bit of a lost cunt.'
“If I’d known you were coming, I would have lived differently.”
-
“You’re my dream girl, Ash. No one even comes close.”
“If I’d known you were coming, I would have lived differently.”
“Out of all the things mum gave us, what do you think is the best; the hair, the legs, or the insane vodka tolerance of twenty-eight generations of Russian peasants?”
“But take it from someone who’s also a little controlling and uptight, Dean has something people like us need. Something that’s rare as fucking diamonds.”
“How did she ever think she had anything over this guy? He was leading her around by the clit like some kind of clit-farmer.”
Rating:
Mains were a choice between steak and salmon. Ash swapped her salmon for Dean’s steak, and he was subsequently ribbed by his teammates for fifteen straight minutes.
“Come on, Sherwood, I know she’s a new girlfriend, but there’s no need to trade in your man-card.”
“Are you gonna ditch your wallet for her purse?”
“Would you like a packet of tampons for dessert?”
Dean laughed it all off like a good little soldier, but Ash, unable to lol at the link between eating a fish and being a big Nancy-boy and feeling very much like an idiot outsider because of it, felt her mood get worse.
Ash zoned out. It was either that or punch him in the groin.
She listened without hearing as Nate droned on about best practices and maternal mortality and the importance of early intervention. Then something strange happened—she started to hear the tremor in his voice, see the pallor in his cheeks, the way he kept shoving chips in his mouth, barely chewing before he swallowed and crammed more in.
He was upset about Shashi. But instead of admitting it, he’d chosen to come here and give her the big ‘that’s life, sweet-cheeks’ spiel. They could have been comforting each other, bonding over their shared pain, but instead, he was sitting in front of her pretending nothing was wrong and that she was irrational for being upset.
And as he talked, without so much as taking a breath, Ash imagined they’d had a baby together, a son called Nathaniel Huxley, like his father and his grandfather. What would Nate Huxley III have grown up thinking about disappointment, guilt, and sadness? What would his father have told him if he was crying? Ash guessed he’d offer his son an ice cream or a trip to the park. “Chin up, mate! It’ll all be okay! Big boys don’t cry! Not even when it hurts!”
She thought of Dean, tearing up as he got his Best and Fairest award. The way he was never embarrassed to say exactly how he felt, to show his fear and excitement. She imagined Dean pulling their crying son into his lap and holding him, perhaps even crying himself if there was nothing else he could do. He was a man who was as soft inside as he was big outside, who was gentle even when it was to his detriment. Who had never lost that boyish way of letting every emotion radiate out of him, as though he had nothing to hide. Ash stood up, cutting Nate off mid-sentence. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
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