Ouch. Great. Spell it out loud and clear, Noah! ‘Oh, stop being such an arse. I told him.’ He frowns. ‘What kind of a girl do you think I am? And what’s that look for now? Worried he’ll think you’re screwing me over or something.’ His mouth opens and closes, flapping fish style. ‘Oh, stop worrying for God’s sake. He thinks the sun shines out of your arse still. It amused him.’ That isn’t one hundred per cent true. He did laugh, so I’m not lying, but then he said, ‘oh yeah pull the other one. It might have started out like that, but I know Noah. Boy do I know Noah. Fancy risking a kebab and another beer?’

‘He looked after me, he was nice.’ I pause. ‘What is it with you? Every time I’m having a good time you come over like this and spoil things.’

‘I don’t.’

Luckily, we are now outside my place. The perfect timing to say my piece and part company. ‘Yes, Noah, you do.’ He opens his mouth to say something, but I stop him. ‘But don’t worry, I’m not after getting cosy with your friends, you, anything. I can kiss somebody and not think I’m falling in bloody love!’

I close the door on him then go through and flop back on my bed. I feel like I have been steamrollered.

I also think I might have just told a lie.

Chapter 22

I have a text message from Dad. This is odd because he very rarely texts me, apart from when he’s making up excuses for not coming home, insulting me, or when he wants me to do his dirty work for him.

This started when I was fourteen years old and he brought me my first mobile. I didn’t realise at the time, but apparently, even though I am now all grown up and have moved out, he still thinks this is acceptable in emergencies.

‘Hi Ro!’

He’s the only person to call me Ro.

‘Can you do me a favour, darling? Dad x’

‘Sure, I’ll see you at the party, we can sort it then! R x’

Signing myself off Ro has always seemed kind of weird, so I settled on R quite a long time ago. Once I’d realised that his texts usually were the lead up to him letting me, or Mum, down. Ro suggested we were in it together, camaraderie, co-conspirators. Even as a teenager I recognised the need for distance to protect myself.

‘Need to sort it now, darling. Dad x’

‘Call me.’

I know he won’t. Dad hardly ever calls because 1. He’s too busy living his best life, and 2. He hates confrontation. He prefers distance. Texting. I think he is partly, okay mainly, responsible for my non-confrontational, logical approach to life. Except I do it with better, more honourable intentions. I am beginning to think he doesn’t know the meaning of honour, especially not in the ‘love, honour and obey’ context.

I’m also beginning to realise that he is one of the most emotionally detached people I know, despite being one of the most charming and flirtatious. Oh, and one of the most deceitful. It’s funny, isn’t it, how easily you can be tricked by what people say, and who they appear to be? How you can mistake touchy-feely and smiley for close and open. How you can mistake platitudes for honesty and doing things in your best interest with controlling.