Page 7 of CowSex

“Me Before You. I drank too much wine. Then I watchedMe Before You. It’s not fair, Kod. This life, none of it’s fair. Reggie should be with me. I shouldn’t be doing this on my own. It was a bad idea. Can you book me a flight? Any airline, I don’t care, I just wanna come home.”

I hear her either sigh or draw in a deep breath, I can’t tell which.

“You finished with the pity party?”

“Fuck you.”

"There she is."

"Double fuck you."

I cuff my runny nose on the back of my hand, my trolley coming to an immediate stop because I’m no longer squeezing the handle and the brake together. I make a sort ofoomphsound as I walk straight into it, almost winding myself.

“Yeah, and fuck you right back, Elliott. You’ve been planning this trip for over a year. Granted you planned on Reggie being with you for part of it, butthat…that didn’t happen. You broke up. You’ve spent the last few months wallowing like a sow in self-pity over a bloke you’ve spent the last three years wondering if you should even be with.”

I again come to a complete standstill; this time because I’m in shock at the way my supposed best friend is talking to me.

“You’ve done nothing but sit on your arse and do sweet fuck all around the office for weeks, and I’ll be fucked if I’m gonna book you a flight so that you can come all the way home and carry on like that.” She pauses.

I open my mouth to speak, but before I can get even a single sound out, she carries on.

“Go enjoy Colorado, Gracie. Be inspired by the scenery, the weather, and the sexy mountain men, and then send me some designs that are gonna knock my fucking socks off, because, ya know, you’ve been coming up with jack shit lately, and the team are worried.”

This is true. Sometimes when I’m stressed, I design, draw, and create maniacally, other times zero, I come up with absolutely nothing. The last few months have been the latter.

“Did you call me a sow?”

“Seriously, Grace, that’s all you got from that?”

“I haven’t been only sitting on my arse.”

Kod sighs. I know for sure this time that it’s definitely a sigh, and it’s long.

“It’s two in the morning here. It’s been a long day. I’m not booking you on another flight so stop behaving like a princess. Suck it up, man the fuck up, shut the fuck up, and go pick up your car.”

“I can’t. I’m too drunk to drive still.”

“Well, get out of the airport and either order an Uber or jump in a taxi, I really don’t give a fuck which. Text me when you get to the house.”

“When did you become such a bitch?”

“When my boss and best friend turned into Princess Pussy. Now, straighten that crown, and go find a car and a driver to get you to your destination. I don’t wanna hear another peep from you until you’re at the house, lodge, cottage...whatever the fuck it is you’ve rented for the next six months.”

“It’s a cabin. You d’narf say fuck a lot.”

“D’narf? What version of the Queen’s English is that? Those Americans ain’t gonna have a Scooby what you’re saying if you go all Essex on them.”

“I don’t care. I don’t plan to talk to many of them.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to talk to your driver at least, so don’t pronounce ‘th’ like ‘f’ and mind your Ps and Qs.”

“Fuck off. That English enough for ya?”

“I think you’ll find it's actually of German or Dutch origin.”

“Well, fickin’ fucken ze off. Does that work better?”

“It’s after two in the morning. I love you, but you’re boring me now. I’m going.”