Chapter 22
22
We’re back in the bedroom, sprawled across the bed and the floor like defeated war heroes after what turned out to be a totally embarrassing battle.
The ceiling fan whirls rhythmically above us, but it’s doing little to cool us down, and it’s not even helping to dry Nita off one bit.
My hair, which I’d curled earlier, is now a frizzy mess, full of leaves and twigs and God knows what else. I noticed, as I passed the mirror, that my mascara was smeared all over my face, but honestly I got off lightly.
Willow and Lou are unscathed – physically, at least – but Nita is soaking wet, from head to toe.
‘You’re actually dripping,’ I say, pointing at Nita, who is sitting cross-legged on the floor, sulking into her own puddle.
She lets out a dramatic sigh and wrings out a section of her hair onto the towel on her lap.
‘Yeah, well, being rugby tackled into a swimming pool will do that to a girl,’ she says. ‘Harry didn’t even hesitate. I’m not sure if he even knows whether or not I can swim. I was halfway through putting my best moves on him, I got closer, and then he was onto me; he grabbed me and launched us both into the pool, like a kind of hostage situation.’
Willow snorts from her spot on the bed.
‘To be fair, you were trying to smell the man – it turns out men get really freaked out when you try to smell them,’ she points out.
‘Especially when they’ve done something wrong, and they know you’re onto them,’ Lou adds.
‘Honestly, a loser like Harry should count himself lucky to be sniffed by a babe like me,’ Nita says – half joking, I assume.
I bury my face in my hands to stop myself from laughing because, honestly, I didn’t actually come out of this situation much better myself.
‘Come on then, Willow,’ Nita prompts her. ‘How did your plan go? You were supposed to get Nolan…’
‘I don’t know what happened,’ she says. ‘He went into the bathroom, and I thought, fine, I’ll just… wait. Except I panicked and started interrogating him through the door.’
‘What did you say?’ Lou asks.
Willow shrugs.
‘Stuff like, I don’t know, how do you get such nice hair? What shampoo do you use?’ Willow admits.
I wince.
‘Not very subtle,’ Nita tells her.
‘Yeah,’ she agrees. ‘So, anyway, by the time he came out of the bathroom his hair was soaking wet. He must have dipped it in the sink.’
‘That’s what Owen did,’ Lou adds. ‘Although, to be fair, I did such a terrible job. I just thought, fuck it, honesty is the best policy, so I just asked. He had his hair under that kitchen tap like a shot.’
‘They’re not as stupid as we think they are, are they?’ Nita says begrudgingly. ‘Okay, Mol, come on, how did it go for you?’
‘I tried being flirty, I really did, but it just wasn’t working… I don’t think. I think he thought something was wrong with me,’ I confess. ‘And then he thought I was going to kiss him, which is when I tried to smell him, and then we just sort of ended up wrestling on the floor.’
‘Which explains why you’ve got half the garden in your hair,’ Nita points out. ‘So, not a sniff?’
I shake my head.
‘But not through lack of trying,’ I tell her. ‘I hung from his waist as he crawled through the dirt. But he managed to stick his head underneath a fountain before I could work my way up his body.’
‘So, we blew it?’ Willow says.
‘We didn’t get them this time, but they know that we’re onto them,’ Nita says. ‘So they won’t think about doing it again. At least there’s that – not that it puts the shampoo back in my bottle. But, mark my words, we’ll get our revenge on these silly boys.’
‘What are you planning, Nita?’
‘I’m thinking…’ Nita starts with a frankly menacing grin, ‘that we take all of this pent-up frustration – all of our bruised egos, our dented pride, our soggy clothes – and we channel it into beating the boys at the competition. Forget the battle, let’s win the war.’
‘Yes!’ Willow says, clapping her hands excitedly. ‘No more flirting. No more seduction. Just total annihilation.’
Lou laughs, shaking her head.
‘Okay, sure, if we can’t have their nice-smelling heads on spikes, then thrashing them at the competition will have to do,’ she says.
‘Why not?’ I chime in. ‘Now it’s personal.’
For a moment, we all sit there in our damp, messy, slightly pathetic states, and laugh.
We might not have them banged to rights with Shampoo Gate, but the war isn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.
‘I hope they’re ready for what’s coming their way,’ Lou says.
‘Not a chance,’ Nita replies. ‘Let’s get them.’