louder than the pipes. “Good impersonation! I was almost scared.”
I somehow smile and frown at the same time before cottoning on to his childishness, my eyes narrowing, my patience paper-thin.
Forgetting where I am for a second, I punch his arm. “Very funny.”
“Hey!” Dylan shouts. “You can’t punch Master Will.”
Both our heads snap in Dylan’s direction, and it’s then I notice Oliver glaring at us.
“Sorry,” I mouth, raising my hand in apology before facing Will again. “Master Will?”
He flicks his eyebrows. “Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You wouldn’t be the first woman to say that to me,” he says for the second time in a matter of minutes.
“Ugh! So can you fix it or not?”
“I can fix the tap, no probs, but I need to look into what made it burst in the first place, and for that, I need more tools from my truck.”
“Good.”
“So what’s the damage?” Oliver steps up next to us and offers his hand to Will. “I’m Oliver.”
“Will.”
They shake hands, and Oliver stretches his upon release then cups it with his other hand.
“Do you two know each other?”
Will hugs me to his side. “We go way back.”
I inconspicuously pry myself from his grip. “No, we don’t.”
Oliver’s eyes drop to my blouse, and once again, I’m crossing my arms over my chest. I really need to change clothes.
Another grumbling noise sounds, this one much quieter than the last, and I soon realise it’s not the sink, instead coming from Will.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, eyes narrowed at Oliver.
We watch him leave before Oliver breaks the silence. “So how do you know the plumber?”
“I don’t. Not really.”
“He sure knows you.”
“He’s a friend of Carly’s.”
Oliver scoffs. “Now that I believe.”
Turning to face him, I’m curious to know why their friendship is amusing to him, like it’s somehow less civilised than his friendships. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
He walks toward his desk, so I follow him. “No, tell me what you mean by that. I wanna know.”
“They just seem like they’re cut from the same cloth.”
I shake my head, bemused. “And what cloth would that be?”
Oliver goes to answer when, speaking of cloth, a T-shirt is draped over my shoulder.
“You might want to put that on,” Will says.
He moves to the tap, bends down, and fiddles with something under the sink. I hold the black material out in front of me, a picture of a tap and the slogan Tap That Plumbing printed in green on the front.
“It’s clean,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at me, “if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Oh, no, I wasn’t worried about that at all.” I smile, a little shocked at his kindness. “Thank you. This is very thoughtful of you.”
Will glares at Oliver and says, voice low, “You don’t want boys looking at your tits.”
And just like that, his “kindness” dissipates.
Sucking on my tooth, I turn around and address the class. “Grade 3s, start writing your four times tables in your workbooks. Grade 2s, you can write your fives. I’m just going to change my wet top. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I scurry to the office and stop by Carly’s desk, tapping my fingertips on the reception countertop. I don’t know how, but Will being here is definitely her doing.
“Yes, Mrs Hunter,” she says, pointing to the telephone receiver she’s holding to her ear. Carly gives me a “Suck shit, I’m busy” grin, so I cock an eyebrow and smile. She can’t avoid me forever; I know where she lives.
Ducking into the staff toilets, I remove my blouse and throw on Will’s T-shirt. It dwarfs me, but it’s dry, warm, and surprisingly soft. Nuzzling the collar, I inhale, a little disappointed to find it smells like brand-new cotton and not him. No matter his caveman appearance and immature persona, nor how many buttons of mine he delights in pushing, I remember him smelling quite pleasant on Friday night when his arms were wrapped around me on the dance floor.
After tucking the hem of the T-shirt into the waistband of my capris so it doesn’t look like I’m wearing some god-awful tunic, I stand under the hand dryer and turn it on, lifting my knees one at a time in an attempt to dry the damp sections on my legs.
“What are you doing?” Carly asks.
I swivel to find her standing at the door. “The can-can, what does it look like?”
Her gaze lands on the T-shirt. “Tap That?” She laughs. “Ha! That’s so Will.”
I don’t get what’s so funny at first