Chapter Thirty-One Mo
Chapter Thirty-One
MO
The next morning, Mo woke to the same cloud of confusion he’d gone to bed with. Netta. Netta. Netta. Was she all he could think about these days? He rolled over, buried his head under the pillow and let out a low groan of frustration.
Yesterday. What the fuck had that been all about?
He’d thought they’d had such a good time at Bianchi’s—it had felt like a date— but she’d been so distant after the rehearsal.
And then, oh God, that mortifying attempt to hug her as he left the hotel room.
She hadn’t even remotely hugged him back.
She’d just stood there, motionless, like she was trying to wish herself out of her own body.
Maybe he’d read it all wrong and she just straight up wasn’t interested—she was just in it for the money.
He kicked back the blankets and sat, stretching his arms above his head and then out to the sides, squeezing his shoulder blades together.
He’d been so close, last night, to telling her about what had happened with his mum.
Netta had this way about her that swung a sledgehammer at his walls without her even having to try.
He threw on a windcheater and shuffled to the kitchen. Mav sat at the bench, halfway through a coffee.
‘Morning,’ Mo mumbled.
Mav gave him an up-and-down appraisal. ‘You look like shit.’
‘Thanks, mate.’
‘Where were you last night?’ Mav curled his left hand into a tunnel and poked his right index finger in and out of the hole.
Mo laughed. ‘Don’t be juvenile. I wasn’t with anyone. Not like that, anyway.’
Mav raised his eyebrows inquisitively, reluctantly putting an end to the hand sex.
‘I was with Netta yesterday,’ said Mo. ‘She—we—thought it’d be a good idea for us to get to know each other a bit before the gala.’
‘What’s she like? I mean, apart from being the imposter who took my ticket?’
Mo waited till the coffee grinder had finished its carry on before he answered. ‘She’s … different.’
‘Like …’ Mav tapped his forehead.
‘No! I mean she’s not the type of woman I usually meet.’
A grin spread across Mav’s face. ‘You mean she’s not into you?’
Mo pressed the button and watched as the coffee dripped into his cup. There was no way to answer that question without sounding like a self-absorbed dickhead.
Mav laughed. ‘Well, I can see how that could be confusing for you, mate.’
‘It’s not just that. She just seems, I don’t know, different,’ he said again. ‘I feel weird around her. I have to keep stopping myself from telling her everything I’ve ever thought.’
‘Oh my God.’ Mav stared at his brother. ‘You’re into her!’ ‘No.’
‘Yes.’
‘Nope.’
‘We’ll see.’ Mav’s grin was so broad it almost swallowed his face. ‘What’s her deal, anyway? I’ve been replaced by this mystery woman and I don’t even know how you met.’
Mo hesitated. As far as Mav was concerned, the diary didn’t exist, so the truth was off the cards. ‘She’s a friend of a friend of Rhona’s,’ he lied. ‘She’s Australian. She’ll be heading back to Melbourne not long after Christmas, I think.’
‘Better work fast then, buddy. Shouldn’t be anything too far out of your skill set.’
What Mav failed to realise was that when it came to women, Mo hadn’t really needed to develop a ‘skill set’. They’d always just come to him. He knew how to work things after that point, but he’d never had to win someone’s interest before.
‘I’m not going to do anything,’ he said, pouring warmed milk into his coffee. ‘She’s not the sort to be interested in someone like me.’
‘What? A rich, famous celebrity isn’t good enough for her?
I guess she would have to be a bit of a saint to get past that hideous face of yours.
’ Mav feigned a look of disgust. He wiped toast crumbs from his lap and stood.
‘Anyway, I’m off into the city. Actually, there’s no chance I could borrow the Jeep today, is there? My battery’s dead.’
Mo rolled his eyes. ‘Leave the lights on again?’
Mav shrugged and flashed the innocent smile Mo had been falling for since he was a kid.
‘I have to go to the city today, too,’ Mo said. ‘You can take the Jeep, but you’ll have to drop me off. I can use Jac to get around once I’m there.’
Mo watched as his brother skidded out of the kitchen Risky Business style. He retrieved Mav’s abandoned coffee cup from the counter and checked the clock. Eight forty-five. He should probably call Netta. He grabbed his phone from the charger and hit call.
‘Hello?’ She sounded groggy.
‘Oh, shit, sorry. I’m making a habit of waking you up. I was just calling about today. You still free to hang out?’ He sounded desperate.
‘Um, yeah?’ Shuffling sounds suggested she was sitting up in bed. ‘Unless you have other things to do. I’m easy.’
‘I have to go to my final suit fitting this afternoon,’ he began, ‘but the morning is pretty free.’ He took a quick sip of coffee. ‘There’s this tiny cinema I go to sometimes that shows old black and white movies. I just sneak in after the lights have gone down. I think you’d like it.’
‘Okay,’ said Netta. ‘As long as there’s popcorn, I’m happy.’
Mo ended the call and leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at the phone while he waited for his heartbeat to resume its normal steady rhythm and the adrenalin to drain away.
Why did he feel like a teenager who’d just worked up the balls to ask a girl on a date?
He put the phone down and reached for the dustpan to clean up the crumbs his brother had left on the floor, distracting himself from the truth blooming in his chest. He felt like a teenager because the last time he’d felt like this, he’d been a teenager, with a monumental crush on Vanessa Montgomery from his year nine biology class.
This was a disaster.
Morrison Maplestone had a motherfucking crush.