6/16/2004
 
Dinner last night at Charlie’s. Kate held her glass of red wine between her breasts, lost in thought. Inhaling, she looked at me, the wine sloshing slightly.

“And you’re not going to play him? You really like him? Because it could get complicated with Olly...”

I covered my annoyance at the player remark (noting that even the most mild mannered homo seems like a sex-crazed Lothario to the average hetero girl) and tried to look as sincere as I thought I felt.

“I think I do. He makes me sit up and pay attention.”

“And on Sunday there was definitely something between the two of you?” Trinity asked, leaning over her empty plate and poking the leftover bowl of salad with her fork, her dark, tightly curled hair bouncing against her caramel coloured cheekbones.

“Sing-ing Luke!” sang Charlie in soprano for the third time that night. To differentiate between a few Lukes she’d taken to singing his name because of his own habit of bursting into song.

“Well…” The list of evidence in my head, so convincing before, seemed trite now sitting in front of the dinner council. “I just got a vibe,” I said finally.

Kate cocked her head and stuck out her chin slightly. “Do you know what I think? We’re going to see a lot more of Luke - he’s over at Lorna’s most of this week learning lines – so let it evolve naturally. Don’t forget he’s just come out of a relationship.”

Charlie and Trin nodded.

After a short pause I nodded too.

“Softly, softly it is then.” I said.

 

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