Upside Down(50)

“Like the Richter scale?” Sandra asked seriously.

I nodded, equally serious. “Exactly like that. But to the power of ten. It really was that good.”

“Don’t you worry,” Charles said. “We got you.” And for the rest of the trip home, they all chipped in with the best-worst ideas ever. So God help me. The Soup Crew really were a bunch of weird and wonderful motherfuckers.





“Need me to bring anything?” Merry asked. I’d just told her about our dinner plans on Thursday and told her she had to be there for moral support.

“Nope. I was going to have it at home and cook something, but the Soup Crew thought it would be better if we went out.”

“The Soup Crew?”

“Yeah, Mrs Petrovski, Charles, Becky, Sandra, and Ian. They catch the bus with us and they’re very invested. They’re like the Avengers…” I made a face as I reconsidered. “Okay, more like the cast from Cocoon, but whatever. They’re very invested, and they clap and cheer whenever Hennessy does anything sweet before he gets off the bus. Like yesterday, when he kissed me.”

“Wait.” She put her hand up. “Hennessy kissed you on the bus yesterday?”

I swooned at the memory. “He did. Just a sweet peck before he ran off the bus.”

Merry gave me her puppy dog eyes. “Awww.”

“I know!”

“And people on the bus clap and cheer for you?”

I nodded.

“What even is your life?”

“Fucked if I know.”

“Jordan!” Mrs Mullhearn said, frowning at me. “Is there any emergency reason for the language?”

“Well, emergency is subjective. I’m sure what I would deem as an emergency and what you might deem as an emergency—”

“Is anyone in a life-threatening situation?” she said over the top of me.

I looked around the room. “Um, no. Unless we count Merry’s lunch in the fridge. She cooked it last night and believe me, I’ve eaten her cooking before and although life-threatening is a strong word—”

Merry whacked my arm. “Hey!”

“Ow!”

“Is there work to be done?” Mrs Mullhearn asked.

“Always,” I replied with a smile, knowing my tactic of talking until she made me leave would make her forget about my swearing.

Merry and I shoved out into the hall and she pushed my back. “What’s wrong with my cooking?”

I laughed. “Absolutely nothing. So, Thursday? You in? I was thinking of that café with all the vintage stuff, on King Street.”

“Oooh, I love that place. And after your comment about my cooking, you’re paying.”

I laughed. “Deal.”





The bus was crowded and Hennessy gave me an apologetic shrug when I locked eyes with him, because there was a guy in the seat next to him. “It’s okay,” I mouthed.

But then the guy nodded at me and rolled his eyes and smirked before standing up. “I can find another seat,” he said. “I’ve been telling my wife about you guys, and if she ever found out I was the reason you couldn’t sit together, she’d kill me.”

I tried not to turn too red, but well, it was awkward and I was the king of that shit. “Thanks,” I said. “And tell your, uh, wife I said hi?”

I sat next to Hennessy and he was looking a little bewildered. He whispered, “He told his wife about us? What does that even mean?”

“I don’t even know. Apparently our lives are now like The Truman Show meets Cocoon.” I cleared my throat. “I’ve stopped questioning the weirdness.”

He laughed. “You look great today. Love the purple. Very ace.”

“Ace? Oh.” Ace, as in asexual. I freaking blushed again and looked down at the offending purple scarf. “Thanks.”

“So Thursday night dinner? Are we still on?”

“Yes, for sure.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Tell me again, Angus is okay with it?” He made an adorable face like he was freaking out.

I grinned at him. “I told you last night on the phone. He’s more than okay with it.”

He let out a relieved breath. “I know. I’m just nervous.”

“I know, and it’s utterly ridiculous to me that you would be nervous about anything.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the cool one, and I’m the one who is definitely punching above his weight.”

“Cool one?”

“Ah, yes, with the cool name, like Hennessy who is paid to be an internet ninja.” Jeez, did I have to spell it out for him?

He snorted. “Says the guy who has the best dress sense and can name and quote any literary reference off the top of his head.”

“I’m not sure that’s a qualifier.”

“Well, I disagree. And you’re not punching above your weight, I assure you.”

“We’ll let Angus be the one to decide that.”

His mouth fell open; a look of horror crossed his face. “Oh God. No pressure then.”

“That’s why these guys—” I waved to the Soup Crew who were listening intently to every word. “—thought meeting at a restaurant or café would be less pressure on you than being at my place.”