'You're just mad 'cause you can't knit.'
'Knitting's stupid anyway. I keep dropping stitches, this has got massive holes in and this... it's just crap. Plus, k7, p7, b.. o.. what the hell?' Pip pulled the half finished scarf off the needle and threw it across the room. It was supposed to be dramatic but, as it was still attached to the ball of wool, it didn't go as far as she intended.
'Yet another thing you can do better than me. Just one more thing that makes you the girl in this relationship.'
'You throw like a girl.'
'Not helping.'
'Sorry.' Sam tried his best sad puppy-dog eye face. It didn't work. Nothing had worked over the past few days.
'Okay, you're not going to like this,' Sam started. 'Just remember, I am totally on your side on this. She was completely in the wrong. But.... You could just try saying sorry. Even if you don't mean it. Maybe if you're nice she'll end up in some sort of shame spiral and apologise to you.' Evil eye. Abort. Abort. 'Or you could just... punch me in the arm?'
'And what, exactly, would that achieve, Sam?'
'I'd have a bruise and you'd feel better?'
Pip eyed Sam's arm. 'Tempting though it is, you know I didn't mean that. Even if I took a tub of Ben and Jerry's over and we both apologised. We might chat and laugh and have a brilliant afternoon but it doesn't make things better. She's still with that prick.'
'Honey, she loves him. Nothing you can do can change that.'
'He's still a prick.'
'Yes, he is. But what would you do if she'd stopped coming round here and hardly spoken to you when we got together?'
'You're not a prick.'
Sam sighed and pushed a strand of Pip's hair back behind her ear.
'You love her, she loves him. You have to try and get on with the guy. You can't just avoid her and hope to get the, "I told you so," moment. That might never come. You either lose her friendship or suck it up.'
'I hate you.'
'No, you don't.' Sam pulled her in close for a hug. "See, you throw like a girl and you sulk like one.'
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