Better Than Words

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So I wasn't going to post anymore excerpts from Right Now, the sequel to Right Place, Right Time. I've been working on it, but wanted to wait until I was quite a few chapters into it before I started posting it properly.

Then today I heard about Mr Styles playing scrabble with my fellow Kiwi Georgia Fowler (no I don't know her myself, but I know several people who do - New Zealand really is a small country). And guess what, one of my future chapters includes a scrabble game between Harry and Emma. By the time I get around to posting it, everyone will think that particular chapter was inspired by Harry and Georgia, when in fact it was written weeks ago. 

So I decided to post a wee snippet here, kind of to show that I haven't just ripped off their real-life game, and also to give you another teaser of what is to come. 


After several normal games of scrabble, Harry suggests they play the dirty version, in which they can only use words that are rude.  As you'll see, he gets quite creative...


"OK, my turn," he said. He put an R, an O and a T around the o in horny. 

"You can't have root, it's not rude," I said.

"It is in Australia, it means shag." 

I rolled my eyes at that.

"It does!" he protested. "Over there, if a bloke asks if you want a root, he's not talking about part of a tree. It's true,  I'm not making this up! Google it."

Actually, it did ring a bell. I'd heard it somewhere, probably Home And Away or one of Chris Lilley's programmes.

"All right, you can have that," I conceded. I paused for a moment then added an I and a T to the T on root, making TIT. It only gave me three points, but it was all I could do. I picked up two more tiles.

Harry stared at the board for a long time, running his hand over his chin. Then he put O, D G and A under the last T in tit. "There you are, todga. Yet another word for that part of the male anatomy." He gave me one of his heart-melting smiles, but I was determined to resist it.

"That is not how you spell it. It's T O D G E R. Todger."

He had a response ready. "Todga is the gangsta version. Posh blokes have todgers, gangstas have todgas. I've got gangsta mates, I know this."

I had to give him points for trying.

"So you've sat there with your gangsta mates and discussed how you spell different words for your dicks?" I asked. "Really, Harry?"

"Actually, we stood there at urinals and did it,"he replied, trying to look serious.

"I thought blokes didn't chat about their bits while they're at the urinal? Isn't that a kind of unwritten rule? You don't check out each other's anatomy?"

"We weren't checking out each other's anatomy, we were discussing spelling." His lips crept up into a tiny smile. He was enjoying winding me up.

"Blokes do not stand at the urinal discussing spelling," I told him. He grinned at me, and I had a feeling he was going to get away with this one.

"How do you know?" he asked. "When was the last time you used a urinal with a bunch of guys?"

"You are such a cheat!" I tried to sound indignant but I couldn't do it when he was pulling such an adorable, puppy dog face.

"Your turn," he said, picking up his tea and swallowing a mouthful.

I stared at my tiles, but couldn't for the life of me think of a rude word I could spell from what I had. The only word I could spell was rich, and I couldn't see how I could be as inventive as Harry and convince him it had a dirty meaning.

"I can't go," I said. "Can you?"

"Hmmm," he said. His eyes flicked between the board and then his tiles for another long while as he concentrated, and as he looked down, I couldn't help staring at him. He was truly beautiful. His lovely long eyelashes were casting shadows on his cheeks and the stubble on his chin only highlighted what a strong jaw he had. I sat on my hands to stop myself reaching out and stroking his face.

Eventually, he placed an  S, P, R, O and N on the board in front of the G in todga, creating the word sprong. 

"Now you really are cheating," I said.  "What the hell is a sprong, Harry? Don't try and tell me it's another word for a penis I've never heard of."

He frowned and chewed on his lip as he was obviously trying to come up with a plausible answer. "It's not a penis as such, it's the, um, it's the... uh, it's the sound of... a fully erect penis being released from a pair of tight pants."

How he kept a straight face, I do not know. I nearly wet myself laughing.

"Sprong? Really? You're trying to tell me that's the sound it makes?"

"Of course. Have you never heard it?"

"Can't say I have."

"Well, it's definitely the sound mine makes. You should stick your head down there and listen some time." His eyebrows shot up and he broke into a wide, suggestive  grin.

"Fuck off, it is not," I said, trying not to grin back, but failing. "Remember what we did this morning? I heard nothing then."

"Well, maybe it's really more the sensation we blokes feel, rather than the sound it makes," he said, backtracking. "Yeah, that's it, it's the word that describes the way it feels when your penis is standing to attention and finally gets freed from the confines of restrictive pants."

I shook my head at him. "You really are full of shit, Harry."

"Am not. We even wrote a song about it."

"What song?"

He started singing, "I'm sorry if I say I need you, But I don't care, I'm not scared of love.

"Cause when I'm not with you I'm weaker, Is that so wrong?

"Is it so wrong, That you make me sprong?"



Thanks for reading... this game of scrabble will continue! By the way, I need some help with covers. If anyone can lend a hand or recommend a really good cover designer, I would be most grateful!


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