Page 12 of Almost Ours

"Since before you turned up," I say breezily. "Now leave. You're upsetting him."

Josh inhales sharply at that, which I choose to take as support. He can hate me after, I won't care. I don't know him. But she needs to know she can’t behave the way she is.

Bonnie turns on him. "You're with her?"

"Yeah," Ewan says brightly. "They're, uh, very together."

“Seriously? Her?"

"I take offence to that," I frown. "I'm not a disease-riddled donkey he should be avoiding." I shuffle in my chair. "Are you insinuating I'm ugly or something?"

“I didn't say that."

"You implied it."

She lifts her chin. "I meant he doesn't date people like you."

"People like me?" I lean back slightly, folding my arms. "What does that mean?"

Bonnie hesitates, realising that saying it out loud will make her look even worse than she already does. Her gaze drags over me again, slow and judgemental, utterly pathetic. "You're not his type."

"As opposed to you?"

"Yes. You’re nothing like me and I'm his first love."

"Oh, give over, Bobbie."

"It's Bonnie."

"Bianca, whatever. No one cares."

Her glare snaps back to Josh. "Seriously?"

Josh finally moves, the muscle in his jaw relaxing enough to talk. "Yeah. Seriously."

She sputters. "Josh, come on. This is ridiculous."

"It is not ridiculous. You're being rude." Then, as if it physically pains him to say, he adds, “you're being rude to my girlfriend."

The gritted teeth are a bit much, if you ask me. I might not be as pretty as her, but I wouldn’t say I’m the worst-looking girl to pretend-date for thirty seconds.

“Yeah, Bernie,” I taunt, maybe leaning a bit too much into the bitchy attitude. “You’re being rude to me.”

“It’s BONNIE!” she screams, hands balling into fists at her sides.

“What was that? Bernadette?”

Her entire face goes blotchy with rage. “That’s it—”

“Alright.” Josh cuts across her, sending me a warning look before turning back to the girl. “Bonnie, you need to leave.”

“No!” She gets this wild, almost desperate look in her eyes. “Now I know you’re going to be here, and I’ll have to see you around, we need to talk!”

“We don’t need to talk,” he says, it’s all manly and assertive and makes me want to fan myself. “I don’t want a conversation with you.”

“How are we supposed to move past it—”

Josh’s eyes harden in a way that makes even me sit up straighter. “Bonnie. I’m not talking about this in public. I’m not talking about this ever again.” He takes a big gulp of air. “Go. Away.”