‘Remind me why we’re doing this again?’ Vod asks. They’re in the pub and J.P. has an arm slung around her with all the nervous arrogance of a fourteen year old.
J.P. is also having problems keeping his lies straight.
‘You know,’ he improvises. ‘Cohabitation, income tax, that kind of thing.’
‘Right.’ Vod swills her drink. It’s the reason she’s still there to be honest. J.P. might be a posh bastard but at least he can spring for decent larger. ‘Are those your posh wanker friends over there?’
‘They aren’t po-,’ J.P. begins. ‘Well they aren’t... Yes. I mean, I think that might be them.’
‘Is it possible,’ Vod asked. ‘That you made the entire thing about tax rebates for couples up and in fact just wanted to impress your posh wanker friends by showing up here with a girl?’
‘What? Me? No? How could you even-’ J.P. stammers as Vod turns her best glare on him. ‘Possibly.’
‘Whatever. Buy another round and I promise I’ll pretend to get a text and storm out yelling about how I don’t care how good the sex is, I’m not staying with the guy who cheated on me with my sister. Again.’
‘Would you?’ J.P. looks hopeful and perverted at the same time, like a school boy who’s just seen his first glimpse of female underwear.
'You won't throw your drink over me?' J.P. asks, concerned. 'It's hard to look dashing when you're wet.'
For you maybe, Vod thinks. But he won't get her sense of humour. Compared to her, J.P. is a tender flower. 'I wouldn't waste the alcohol,' she tells him instead.
'Thanks, Vod,' J.P. beams. 'You're a mate. I am, like, sooo glad Oregon was busy.'
Vod raises her eyebrows, then relents. Obviously she’s going soft.
‘Buy the house pizza tonight and I’ll make it my twin sister.’