“Well, say something,” Aidan almost pleaded as Adele stood there looking somewhere between mortified and elated.

“You have a dog,” she eventually managed to splutter. “Since when did you have a dog?”

“What dog?” Aidan frowned and then looked embarrassed as the scraggly mutt began to bark. “Oh yeah, him.” Adele raised her eyebrows, and he decided further elaboration was needed. “I found him abandoned in the park. I couldn’t believe anyone could be so cruel, so I, ah, adopted him kinda.”

She felt a lump form in her throat. Damn him for being kind to dumb animals. How dare he be so sweet! She soon found herself speaking quickly to stop herself thinking improper thoughts or at least things she wanted to enact using the couch and the leftover whipped cream in the fridge. “Does he have a name?”

The dog jumped onto Aidan’s legs, his paws clawing his crotch to get attention. Aidan happily ruffled the fur on his head. “I’m thinking he’s going to be called Degas.”

“Oh, that’s really sweet,” Adele cooed, knowing full well it made her sound like a psycho fan girl. She reached out to pat the dog and her fingers brushing against his. Her cheeks flushed and she couldn’t dare look up in case he’d noticed.

“So, will you accept my un-dumping?” he finally asked with a little trepidation in his voice.

She forced herself to look up. His eyes were sincere and warm and that ever-increasing desire to taste his lips took over again. “I guess I’m gonna have to, huh?” she breathed, and Aidan smiled, making her stomach bunny-hop.

They looked at each rather giddily for a moment before Degas barked, breaking the moment and forcing them to look away.

“Don’t suppose you’d be interested in helping me bathe Degs, would you?” Aidan said gently.

…As an oil painter, Dürer was equally successful at religious and secular subjects, producing magnificent altarpieces and powerful portraits…

“God, that’s a good painting,” Joaquin sighed as she studied the television. “He was just a genius with a brush and oils.”

“More wine?” Ben asked and filled both their glasses. He quickly sculled the contents of his glass before refilling it again as he sat.

“So how are you finding The Da Vinci Code?” she queried, stretching out her legs.

“Enlightening,” he said so quickly that he almost tripped over his words. “It’s a masterful work…”

“What about Shakespeare?”

“We all know Shakespeare was a genius with a pen.”

“They didn’t have pens back then.”

“Fine, one of those feather things.”

“A quill.”

“Huh?”

“Ben, what’s going on? Joaquin asked as she sat up and grabbed her wineglass. She wasn’t sure how much she’d drunk, or been forced to drink so far, but she was pretty sure it was enough for a hangover.

“Nothing is going on,” he laughed in such an over the top fashion that it was obvious he was lying. “I like art and culture and books,” he insisted feebly as he felt his entire evening crumbling before him. “Is it really so weird?”

“Yes,” she declared with such directness that it made Ben flinch. She sat up and plopped her glass back on the coffee table. “You’re a macho, football-loving jock. You like lesbian porn and blonde things in bikinis. Your sole diet revolves around beer, pizza and beer. Art appreciation, animal activism and Shakespeare don’t even enter into it.”

Ben opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, and Joaquin couldn’t help but notice he looked a mite crushed. “I’m offended, how could you…”

“Stop, please!” she groaned. “Just tell me the truth.”

“I don’t have any dog shampoo,” Adele shrugged, looking apologetically at Degas.

“Oh, I came prepared,” Aidan enthused and produced a bottle of medicated pet shampoo from his back pocket and passed it to Adele. She looked at him strangely.

“You knew I’d relent!”

He looked sheepish. “I kinda figured if I did, you would.”

“See, trapped in your own ego,” she chided as she ushered Aidan and Degas into the apartment.

“I am not trapped in my own ego,” he frowned. “I don’t know what gives you that impression.”

“You’re good-looking and talented and you know it,” she teased, disappearing into the bathroom. She put the stopper in the bath and began to fill it with lukewarm water.

“So you think I’m good-looking and talented?” he smirked, appearing at the doorway with the abandoned bottle of vodka.

“Hey! Paws off my voddy,” Adele frowned as Aidan drank straight from the bottle. “That’s for me to drown my sorrows.”

“What sorrows?” he laughed. “Our non-existent relationship is back on track.” Adele felt her cheeks redden and distracted herself by plopping Degas into the bath. “Me, now I have sorrows,” he continued, dropping to his knees beside Adele and passing her the bottle.

“Really?” she said, surprised and looked at him briefly. She quickly refocussed on the dog, because if she actually thought about how cute he was, she might actually polish off the whole bottle.

“Yeah, started this morning when this girl I’ve got a huge schoolboy crush on dumped me,” he chided. Adele’s face now burning red, she drank more of the vodka. “Then I discovered I can only afford my rent this week as opposed to rent and food. This of course is topped off by a good friend demanding I pay for his imported Italian sofa to be cleaned because Degas is either not housebroken or incredibly spiteful.”

“What?” she gasped, putting the bottle of vodka down and looking up.

“I know,” he frowned. “Dale is so obsessed with his sofa. It’s not even a nice colour. It’s like baby shit yellow.”

“Actually I was more concerned about you not being able to eat.”

“It happens,” he shrugged. “Anyway, I’ve applied for a job at the local high school. If I work the two jobs I’ll be able to afford plenty of food, wine…”

“What about dog food?” she asked as she washed the foam from Degas’ back.

“Oh shit,” Aidan winced. “I spent the last of my cash on the shampoo. Do dogs eat baked beans?”

Adele felt giggles form in her throat and couldn’t hold them back. Aidan looked at her mortified a moment before a smile formed on his lips and he started to snigger.

“I am such a fuckup!” he declared, falling back onto the floor, sprawling himself across the tiles.

“No you’re not…you’re perfect,” she smiled, then blushed and squeaked and went back to some intense dog washing as Aidan propped himself up on his elbows.

“Perfect?!”

“Well?” Joaquin sighed as she leaned back against the padded arm of the couch, sipping yet another glass of wine.

Ben wrung his hands and looked at her guiltily. “Do I have to?”

“I’ll force a documentary of feminist art in the 21^st century on you.”

He sat down promptly. “You’re just gonna laugh at me.”

“Probably,” she mused, knowing full well that the alcohol in her system was making the whole situation far more amusing than it was.

“Ok,” he sighed. “I know you like…art boy…I do, and really, why wouldn’t you? He’s intelligent, good looking, witty, arty, and sensitive. Christ, he’s even kind to dumb animals.”

“Go on,” she prompted as Ben stopped to take a mouthful of his wine.

“So I thought if I was more like him you might, y’know, like me more.” He looked at his feet to mask his crushed expression. “You can laugh now.”

“You did all this for me?”

He nodded slowly and looked over at Joaquin. “Yeah, idiot that I am.”

“I think it’s kinda sweet,” she smiled, sitting up. She leaned forward and rested her glass on the coffee table. “I’m flattered.”

“Really?” he almost gasped.

“Yeah,” she breathed and leaned into his side. “I mean by doing all this you’ve proved you are intelligent, witty and sensitive.”

“Not arty though.”

“You’re a big dumb animal, though,” Joaquin giggled.

“Hey!” Ben mused, nudging her gently. She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, forcing him to remember she was rather tipsy and shouldn’t be taken advantage of.

“So how did you come about forming all these ideas about Aidan?” she asked after a moment. She leaned back into the couch. “Mothers meeting with Leo?”

He let out a small laugh and leaned back beside her. “We spent the morning stalking him.”

Joaquin burst out into fits of laughter. It was the first time Ben had seen her really laugh, and he thought she looked beautiful. The usual lines of worry, the repression, the skittishness were all lost in those few glowing seconds of happiness.

“Now that’s funny,” she managed to pant on regaining some composure from the image of Ben and Leo dressed as Sherlock Holmes and Watson.

“I learned a sonnet for you, too,” Ben enthused, deciding he was on a roll. “Want to hear it?”

“Yes,” Joaquin beamed and Ben took her hand with all the mock seriousness he could muster.

“A woman’s face with nature’s own hand painted, hast thou, the master mistress of my passion,” He gently stroked the top of her hand with his thumb. “A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted, with shifting change, as is false women’s fashion: An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; A man in hue all hues in his controlling, which steals men’s eyes and women’s souls amazeth.”

Joaquin realised, with delayed achoholary reaction, that Ben’s face was now very close to hers. He smelt sweet, a mix of wine and aftershave, and it was intoxicating. His warm breath tingled her flushed cheeks.

“And for a woman wert thou first created; Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting, and by addition me of thee defeated, by adding one thing to my purpose nothing. But since she prick’d thee out for women’s pleasure.”

“Ben,” Joaquin managed to breathe, her eyes unable to break the lock they had on each other.

“There’s one line left,” Ben whispered. “Mine be thy love and thy love’s use their treasure.” Gently he moved his lips to Joaquin’s. Feather light, the warmth, sweetness and alcohol-related lack of shame made her tingle ever so slightly. Ben moved his lips away gingerly. They sat breathing and trembling for a few seconds before their lips met again.

“Why are you convinced I’m perfect?” Aidan mused, leaning against the bathroom wall near the towel rail.

Adele blushed. “Jo has always been convinced you are. I guess it just kinda stuck.” She finished drying Degas and leaned against the wall next to Aidan.

He gave a small chuckle. “I don’t know why she’s convinced of that,” he frowned, taking a swig from the reclaimed vodka bottle.

“I think the fact you’re talented, good looking, intelligent, sweet and a lover of woollens blurs all your imperfections.”

“I’m hardly talented,” Aidan snorted. “I teach the old, incompetent and unemployed how to create something pretty for their living room walls.”

“That’s not true.”

“No, you’re right,” he nodded. “Jo is the exception to the rule. She is talented and too full of her own insecurities to actually do anything about it.”

“I’m not talking about Jo…”

“As for good-looking, give me a break!” Aidan frowned. “I hide myself in those hideous jumpers because I’ve grown up hating who I am. My last girlfriend left me for some bronzed, squash-playing god who looked good in white shorts.” He reached for the bottle again but Adele snatched it from him.

“Problem, not a solution,” she remarked, raising an eyebrow.

“I think Jo has brainwashed you into liking this perfect illusion of me,” he groused. “For fuck’s sake, I’m not even sweet and sensitive! How can I be that if I’m so revolting towards Fiona, and Jo, my god, how awful am I to her? A nice guy would just tell her that he’s not interested and is in…is attracted to her best friend.”

Adele flinched at the unfinished profession of whatever if was he was about to profess, whether it be love, like, or a tendency toward sheep. “You don’t tell her because you don’t want to hurt her.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you’re too sweet.” Adele felt her cheeks flush. “I know ‘sweet’ sounds schoolgirlish, but it’s true, whether you want to accept it or not. You adopted Degs because you felt sorry for him, and you turned up here to repute being dumped from a non-relationship because you didn’t want me to be any more hurt than I already am.”

Aidan gave a small, breathy laugh, “Damn you for seeing through drunken venting.”

“It’s a knack,” Adele sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. “Oh, and for the record ‘That Bastard’ was the squash-playing, short-wearing type and he was a dud root.”

“And what makes you think I’m better in the sack?”

“I saw you shirtless, and that required a cold shower and a change of underwear. So I can speculate.”

“Ok,” he flustered. “I’ll keep that in mind for future reference.”

They fell silent and Aidan hesitated a moment before entwining his fingers with hers. “You know, while we’re being all drunk and honest…I hate that you’re a loyal, caring friend to Jo.”

“I know, it’s thoroughly annoying,” Adele agreed, squeezing his hand.

“It also really pisses me off that your ex has damaged your whole mental and physical response to relationships.”

“Oh, it’s healing,” she perked. “I’m into cuddling again.”

“Ohh, headway,” he chided and they both giggled. “So what would I have to do to get you to move on to kissing?”

“Well, seeing as we’ve nearly polished off that bottle of vodka, probably not a lot.”

“Bonus!” Aidan teased and Adele nudged him, making him chuckle.

“I’m feeling rather drunk and sleepy,” Adele sighed, squeezing his hand again. “I think I need to go to bed.”

Aidan sighed and nodded. He got up slightly unsteadily and helped her up with aid from the towel rail. Aidan wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she slipped hers around his back before they made a slow exit from the bathroom, Degas following curiously. Aidan found the bedside light in Adele’s room as she plonked herself on the bed.

“I’m going to be so hungover tomorrow,” Adele yawned as Aidan crouched down and took off her shoes. She lay down and he pulled a purple minky blanket over her. “You can stay if you want.”

“No, it’s probably better if I go,” Aidan said softly, stroking her hair. He leant forward and brushed a kiss on her forehead. “Night Del,” he added and crept out of the room, his damp dog trotting along after him.

Joaquin tried to open her eyes, but the pain engulfing her head was making it extremely difficult. With all the effort she could muster, she forced them open, then instantly wished she hadn’t as a wave of nausea swept over her. This passed when she noticed she wasn’t in her own room, or passed out on the couch. She was in Ben’s bed with Ben gently snoring beside her. Oh fuck…