Sympathy for the Devil Read Online Free PDF Page B

across her face. “We shouldn’t have done that.”
           I frowned and sucked on my cigarette. “What?”
           “Oh, God, Pierce,” she wailed. “Prolong their dire misconception that we’re going to start dating.”
           “Oh, no!” I mocked, suddenly yawning so hard my jaw ached. “So what?”
           She looked at me suspiciously. “I get the feeling you don’t like me.”
           “Why’s that?”
           “I’m a bit full-on,” she said wryly. “So I give it some, so people will know what I’m like. I can calm down if I know they can deal with it.”
           “Why go through all that for people you’ll probably never see again?”
           She smiled. “I don’t like leaving a bad impression on people. I feel it. It hangs on me like a knock-off Versace. And I’m getting the dress of distaste from you.”
           Okay, she was too clever by half for me. “You’re imagining things.”
           She reached out and touched a few fingers to my chin, drumming them in light succession. “Tell me the truth.”
           I gave her my premium, heart-attack-inducing smile, guaranteed to shut most women up. “From what I’ve seen of you, I like.”
           My smile was nothing compared to the one she beamed at me. “Shame the feeling’s not mutual.”
           “Oh, yeah?”
           “Yes. I know all about you. Girls call you Uni Casanova, which is about as witty as some of them can get, and you’ve only been here what, five months?”
           I rolled my eyes. “I’ve been propositioned a lot. I have standards so I’ve been trashed by a bitter tart.”
           “Ooh, yes, really liking you now,” she said dryly.
           “Woman, I don’t want or need your approval,” I retorted. “Unlike you I am unconcerned with the opinions of other people.”
           “Well, whose does concern you?”
           “Mine,” I told her sharply.
           “Opinionated, aren’t you?”
           I sighed. “Listen here. A good ninety percent of people you meet on a daily basis you will never talk to or see again. Why be constantly on the lookout to impress those whose names you’ll forget in a matter of minutes?”
           “Because some of us like being sociable,” she said on a laugh. “It’s how you make friends! How you get a favour, borrow a tenner, get lecture notes, bum a cigarette, have a place to crash when you’re too far from home.”
           “I’ve never needed to borrow money, I can catch up on lectures with or without sloppy help.” I rode over her protestations concerning the notes I had collected today. “And I’ve never ended up anywhere without the aid of a good black cab. Anything else?”
           “Friendship?” she questioned. The taxi pulled up in the side street that divided Regent Street and Piccadilly.
           I handed over a fiver and waited until Cari had circled the taxi to answer her. “Most friends are two-faced, backstabbing, and self-serving.”
           She made a face of complete disgust. “I don’t think West can even begin to fit into that category.”
           I touched a hand to her back to walk her across the road. “I did say most.”
           “You’re jaded.”
           “And you should take out those tinted contact lenses. And besides, who was the one effing and blinding at their ex?”
           “That’s different. He’s a prick.”
           “Rick the Prick,” I rhymed.
           “Witty.” She wrinkled her nose. I opened the door for her. A man walked straight into the glass, staring open mouthed at Cari, but she didn’t notice.
           “I do try to be.” I was annoyed that the fact I was walking proprietarily close to Cari didn’t stop men from sending her appraising looks. “Why’d you go out with him?”
           She shrugged.