Page 61 of How We Began

Oh, shiiiiit.

I dropped my grasp of his waist and ducked my head around to see his face. He grinned, gaze bright and innocent.

“It’s your birthday and you didn’t tell me?”

He shrugged and offered me a crooked smile, but the laughter in his eyes told me it all. “It didn’t seem that important in the grand scheme of things.”

“Not that important? Here we are having a day of ‘let’s pretend’ and it is not important that it’s your birthday?” I scrunched my face, disgusted at myself. “Seriously, Ben?”

How do I not know his birthday? I can’t remember if he’s ever told me the exact date, but surely I should have found out somehow? Surely…

Oh, God, I couldn’t help the immediate wave of panic that this was never meant to be if I didn’t even know when his bloody birthday was.

Sensing that I was heading into a spiral of panic, he approached me as one would approach a scared kitten, hands smoothing down my arms, long fingers linking with mine.

“Lilah, you gave me the best birthday present this morning when you agreed to my plan for the day.” He gave me his wicked grin and then leaned in towards my ear. “And the bit afterwards.”

Oh, yes, that’s right.

Meredith stood there, leaning on the kitchen counter, watching and grinning as she worked out what I gave him for his birthday.

“I need to go shopping!” I said, and as quick as I could, I twisted out of his arms, grabbed my bag, and dashed for the door, only pausing when I got there. “Blow job still stands, but I still need to go shopping.”

I then used my new gym skills to jog across campus and onto Roehampton Lane. Speed was of the essence, so I left the shitty car, probably still recovering from Asda, and jumped on a bus.

Even the big red double decker couldn’t go fast enough down the bus lanes for my liking. At last I jumped off and headed down High Street. I’d taken ten paces when I came to a complete stand. “Oi, love, move your fat arse!” One man called out as he weaved around me.

I didn’t respond, totally absorbed by one huge issue.

What the hell could I buy Ben?

Ben, Ben, Ben… I needed a man to help me chose. Unfortunately, the only person I knew was Tristan, and well, let’s be honest, he and Ben could not be further apart if they tried. But then on the other hand was the fact that they’re currently doing the whole ‘best buddy’ thing, so I thought maybe I could ring and ask.

Never ask my brother for advice on anything important.

That’s what I learnt today. Well, that, and the fact I’m a crap pretend girlfriend.

Tristan had no bloody idea at all. Well, he suggested a blowjob, but I wailed that I’d already used that for the day. I hung up the phone about three minutes into the conversation. He was wasting my valuable time.

I ended up at the music shop, and I’m quite proud that I came up with the idea all by myself.

Walking in, I found about a hundred different guitars all hanging from suspended stands. Can’t lie, I nearly burst into tears when I saw them all. No way in hell was I ever going to know what to buy. Not in a million years.

Enter my saviour angel of birthday presents in the form of Big Baz. He was big. He was hairy. And he was covered in tattoos. But he knew how to save a girl in a birthday crisis and that was all that mattered.

He quickly saw the emotional breakdown that I was about to erupt all over the floor of his shop.

“You all right, love?” he asked.

There was an accent. Welsh, maybe? “Um, no.”

“How can I help?”

What a stupid thing to say to a crazy lady on the brink of tears in your shop. Silly man.

He got the whole sob story beginning to end. Nothing left out, no holds barred, even the bit with the black underwear and the subsequent, ‘Moving to the States’ dilemma that’s currently destroying my happily-ever-after.

After I’d finished and he had handed me a tissue, he sat there and twisted his goatee, mulling it over. I stood there feeling like a complete prat waiting for his verdict.