“I will, when I’m lying on my hospital bed because you couldn’t keep your eyes on the road.”
He chuckles and opens the passenger door for me. “Give me some credit.”
I slide into the seat.
“I’ll only look when we stop at traffic lights,” he says, and closes the door, cutting off my retort.
As he walks around the car, I huff a sigh and buckle myself in. He gets in the driver’s side, closes the door, and does the same.
Then he looks at me, and we both start laughing.
“Kinda nice to be going on a date with a friend,” he says as he starts the engine.
“I know what you mean. There’s no pressure.”
“Yeah, no awkwardness.”
“I hate dating,” I grumble.
“Me too!” He turns onto the main road and heads for the ferry. “That moment where the conversation is all awkward and you’re feeling each other out.”
“On a first date? I can see what kind of girls you go out with.”
He chuckles. “You know what I mean. You don’t know what the other person is into, so you’re telling them about yourselves and trying to discover whether they like the same things you do.”
“Yeah. And then you find they like motorsport and heavy metal and they don’t like curry, and you’re, like, oh shit, this isn’t going to work.”
“I couldn’t date a girl who didn’t like curry.”
“I know! I couldn’t date a guy who didn’t like music.”
“Who the hell doesn’t like music?”
“You’d be surprised. Tamati said he was, but after I started dating him I realized he wasn’t really into it. He never understood why I always liked to have it on in the house.”
He checks his mirror, then glances at me. “You lived with him?”
“Yeah, for about a year.”
“I didn’t know that.”
I look out of the window. “It wasn’t the best decision of my life.”
“I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “It’s done now. No point in regrets.” I look across at him. He’s resting an elbow on the windowsill, with his fingers on his lips, thoughtful. He’s incredibly handsome. And he smells amazing. “People are never going to think we’re an item,” I joke.
He frowns. “Why?”
“Look at you, Kingi. You scream money and power. I’m a gardener for God’s sake. You’re lucky I’m not wearing wellies.”
“Oh yes! About that. High heels! I didn’t know you possessed any.”
“Not much call for them when you’re up to your knees in mud.”
“I guess. But it’s good you’re wearing them. It’ll make it easier to kiss you later.”
“Oh God, don’t start that again. I’m not kissing you.”