Pants on Fire by Maggie Alderson Read Free Book Online Page B

after we met. I’m sorry about that. It was rude, but I was just showing off to Rory. In fact, he dared me to do it . . .”
    A dare? What was he talking about? Why would Rory dare Billy to kiss me? Was it because I was so ugly? Not judging by his performance in the park. I didn’t know whether to feel insulted or just to let it pass. It was all so weird.
    â€œOh, that’s fine,” I said, suddenly all brisk. “The bathroom’s in there. There are clean towels in that basket and you can use my back brush—or maybe not . . . I’ll get you a T-shirt.”
    He disappeared inside. I didn’t pour any drinks. I didn’t put soft music on. I didn’t take my clothes off. I just paced around, not knowing what to do with myself. One of the most beautiful men I’d ever seen was naked in my shower—I could hear the water running and him singing ‘car wash . . . woo ooo ooo . . .” through the door—and my heart was still racing from a combination of all those little platey licks and our passionate snogfest under the stars. So I did what I always do when I don’t know what to do. I had a drink of water. When I turned round from the sink, Billy was standing in the kitchen doorway, his hair wet and slicked back, a white towel around his waist and that smile on his face.
    Seconds later we were in my bed.
    Now, I’d been working on women’s magazines long enough to know that the best way to kill a romance before it begins is to sleep with a guy on the first date. But he was gorgeous. All over. Not an ounce of fat on the man. I felt like I was losing consciousness.
    Then something funny happened. Or rather, it didn’t happen. His body was hard as rock all over—except for the one place it really mattered.
    â€œGeorgie,” he said, as it became patently obvious to both of us that things were not quite right. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
    â€œYou’re right,” I said, secretly relieved. “I’m sorry. I never should have let it get this far, but it was unusual circumstances like you said.” Not to mention that I’d ingested about twenty-five fingerfuls of Class A drugs, two bottles of champagne and several puffs of supersonic hydroponic Sydney smoko.
    â€œI’m the one who should be sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to take advantage of you, but it was such an amazing night and it just sort of happened. I think I’d better go home. Would you mind?”
    â€œNo, it’s a good idea, before we do anything else stupid. I’ll get you that T-shirt.”
    I got up quickly, glad he was going—it meant I wasn’t a slut after all. But I was also sad, confused, disappointed and embarrassed. What had gone wrong? He’d been like a raging bull in the park and then, when we were in a more appropriate locale, it had all closed down. Had he suddenly realised I was repulsive? What was the matter with me? First I had made Rick turn to hookers and now I’d made macho-man Billy Ryan turn to jelly. Was this all part of the dare with Rory?
    â€œGeorgie, give me your phone number. Please. I’m not a bastard, really. I would like to see you again. I’d really like to be friends.”
    Friends? What was that supposed to mean? I found a business card and gave it to him. If he wanted to be “friends” he could ring me at work. He looked at it and looked back at me, with a winning half smile.
    â€œCan I have your home number as well? I’ll call you tomorrow. We can go and have brunch or something.”
    Yeah right, I thought, but I wrote my home number on the back anyway. He gave me a warm kiss on the cheek and left. I pulled horrible faces at the closed door for a while and then, after five more glasses of water, I got into bed and screamed into the pillow.

Chapter Three
    I don’t want to dwell on how I was feeling physically when the phone woke me up the next