‘Oh, you know me so well,’ Matthew shouted over the music and waved his
present around gleefully. ‘Can I put it on?’
‘DVD yes, condoms no,’ I replied.
Matthew’s party was going better than I had anticipated. Having been
desperate to eradicate all memory of the night before, I’d really thrown
myself into the party planning. There were ridiculous amounts of booze in
the kitchen, more food than would ever be consumed by the assembled
masses and I’d even dug out the fairy lights to create a bit of interesting
lighting. It was also something of a plus that the low lights meant you
couldn’t read ‘Simon is a dick’ on my living-room wall. Which you could
in direct sunlight. Still. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.
Matthew was already worse for wear, Emelie was doing a fine job as
secondary hostess keeping everyone’s glasses full and I hadn’t freaked out
once. Result.
‘So what did you do today?’ I asked Matthew, taking a moment out of
refilling the chips and dips to sit down on the sofa with the birthday boy. He
wasn’t bouncing off the walls as I might have expected. Worrisome. ‘You
don’t seem your usual desperately self-involved birthday self?’
‘Oh god, I don’t?’ he looked utterly stricken. ‘Sorry, distracted.’
‘I know, that’s what’s bothering me.’ I ruffled his hair and tried not to
look at my own TV screen. I assumed he was suffering First Birthday
Without Stephen Syndrome and tried not to push it. ‘Are you OK? Did you
have a nice day?’
Matthew, on the other hand, could not tear his eyes away. ‘Today? I slept,
watched telly, had a wank. What’s tall, dark and dickhead doing in the
kitchen?’
He was of course referring to Dan. He’d arrived dead on the dot of nine
with a bottle of whiskey, a bottle of vodka and a case of beer. Never let it be
said that the boy could not take direction. And yet, since he’d walked
through the door, we’d barely spoken. I was pretty much resigned to the fact
that I’d misread the situation and he was just being friendly and supportive
because I’d been dumped. And by ‘resigned to’, I of course meant ‘relieved
by’.
‘He seems all right.’ Matthew poured us both tumblers full of whiskey.
He had eschewed the beer and wine options much, much earlier in the
evening ‘I forgot how hot he was.’
‘Yeah anyway, back to you, birthday boy.’ Whiskey was good. ‘Is
everything really OK? You just seem a bit down. As in more than your
usual “everyone’s a knob but me” down.’
‘I know, I’m a miserable bastard,’ Matthew threw back his drink and
poured another. ‘It’s just, whatever. Birthday blues.’
‘Watch your porno and be quiet then,’ I ordered, giving him a kiss on the
top of his head before marching back into the kitchen in search of the
Doritos. It was a classy party.
‘Matthew having fun?’ asked Dan as I slid past. Tonight’s ensemble
combo included dark indigo skinnies, a checked white shirt, pale blue
cashmere V neck and a skinny black tie. I had to admit, he looked really
good. If a little warm. I was in my new sleeveless sky blue silk dress and I
was roasting.
‘Like the child that he is, he’s fine now that I’ve told him he can put his
video on,’ I said, peering back into the living room. I knew Matthew
wouldn’t want me to go into his soul-wrenching heartbreak, so I didn’t. Yay
me. ‘You OK?’
‘Yeah, I was talking to Emelie. She seems nice when she’s not punching
out my date.’
‘She is,’ I said. Nice? Date? Were they back on? Argh. ‘Are there any
more crisps anywhere?’
‘She’s really hot.’ Dan reached up to the top shelf where he’d hidden the
snacks.
‘She is.’ There was no way on god’s green earth he’d come to my party
to hit on my best friend. Was there?
‘No need to be jealous.’ He set the crisps down and then turned to hold
my gaze. ‘You’re hotter.’
I coughed, choking on a freshly acquired Dorito.
‘Rach!’ Matthew shouted from the living room. ‘There’s someone
knocking at the door.’
‘Then answer it,’ I replied, not taking my eyes off Dan.
‘I’m watching porn,’ he yelled back. ‘And it’s my birthday.’
‘I’ll get it,’ Dan said. I looked away quickly, just not quickly enough.
‘Can you put the guacamole into that blue bowl? It’s the green lumpy stuff.’
‘You’re so funny, I could wet myself.’
‘Not in the kitchen, please.’ He placed his hands on my waist as he slid
past me into the living room. Hmm, there was that funny flushing feeling
again. He really needed to stop touching me. Or start doing it more
regularly. I wasn’t sure which. Whiskey made me very indecisive.
‘This is a really great party.’ Em replaced Dan in the kitchen, nibbling
delicately on a carrot stick. Which was annoying given that I’d bought Mini
Cheddars especially for her. ‘There are so many people here.’
‘Don’t sound so surprised,’ I replied. ‘I’m very popular.’
‘And you’re wearing a dress again.’ She gave me a half-hug, checked
whether or not anyone was looking and inhaled a handful of dry-roasted
peanuts. ‘It’s so pretty.’
‘Thanks,’ I gave her a little spin to make the full skirt flare out. ‘I’m
almost out of new outfits but nothing that survived the cull seemed
appropriate.’
‘Your old clothes weren’t appropriate for milking cows,’ she replied.
‘There were fabrics in there I couldn’t even identify.’
I stopped spinning and shoved a Mini Cheddar in her mouth. ‘You threw
away my wool coat. Aka my only coat.’
‘Rach, my love,’ Em said through a mouthful of cheesy biscuit. ‘That
was not a wool coat. It had never even been near a sheep. If that coat saw a
sheep, it would climb off your body to go and take a closer look and ask
you what the fluffy bah-ing thing was.’
‘I still don’t have a coat,’ I grumbled. ‘Glad you decided to come casual,
though – wouldn’t have wanted you to dress up too much.’
Emelie had gone all out for Matthew’s party. Which was something of an
understatement. Emelie had gone all out for the Notting Hill Carnival. At
what point had she sat down and decided this was a good outfit in which to
attend a house party, I did not know. In all her stylish wisdom, my best
friend had teamed bright red sequined hot pants with fishnet tights and a
slouchy striped T-shirt that sloped just low enough on her left shoulder to
show off her new tattoo. Her glossy auburn hair was five times its usual
size, a mass of haphazard curls pushed over one shoulder, and I assumed the
black strappy patent platforms I could see by the sofa were hers. She looked
like an off-duty Pussycat Doll. Or a very, very high-class hooker.
‘I just thought it might be nice to try a bit,’ she said, looking back into
the living room where Dan was sitting on the opposite end of the sofa to
Matthew, trying not to look as if he was interested in what was on the TV.
Which, to be fair, was very interesting, regardless of sexual orientation.
Who knew you could get that many people in a hot tub? I supposed they
were all doing their best to squeeze together and make space. ‘So, I was
talking to Dan the man?’
‘That must have been fun,’ I said quickly. ‘Do you know where the
tzatziki is?’
‘He’s not going out with Ana any more.’ She kept me locked in an even
gaze. ‘Apparently they had a massive row after … um, you set sprinklers on
her and I smacked her in the gob.’
‘Shocked.’ How had she managed to get all of that out of him in five
minutes at a party? I’d had him in my house painting for half an hour and
hadn’t been able to work out what the hell was going on with him and Ana.
‘He told you all that, did he? Word for word?’
‘Yeah … Funny how he’s ended up here tonight,’ she replied.
‘Hypothetically speaking, if he were interested, would you be interested?’
‘If you’re asking for permission to make a move, I won’t remind you that
you’ve agreed to go to my dad’s wedding with my disgusting brother and I
won’t remind you that Dan is a massive, massive player.’
I chose to ignore the fact that I felt as though I’d just stabbed myself in
the gut repeatedly with a rusty butter knife.
‘Not me.’ She paused to give Pete, my next-door neighbour and local
middle-aged postman, a wink as he sidled past to get to the fridge. Poor
Pete looked as if he was about to have a heart attack. ‘You.’
‘It’s Dan.’ I held my hands up to emphasize the weirdness of what she
was proposing. ‘I mean, Dan. We’ve worked together for years, we’re
friends. Sort of. I couldn’t.’
‘So?’ Em refused to let it go. ‘Things change. You’ve changed. And,
more importantly, he’s tall, he’s gorgeous and he’s here.’
She had a point.
‘And I just want to get my hands in his hair.’ She pulled her own hair and
fluffed the ends. ‘And the eyes, Rachel, the big brown eyes. Do not tell me
you don’t want a go on it.’
‘Please, I’m eating.’ I would have made a great politician. Probably.
‘Rach?’ Helena, my upstairs neighbour, appeared at my side with air
kisses and a bottle of vodka. ‘Is it me or does it say “Simon is a dick” on
your living-room wall.’
‘Sort of, yeah.’ I gave a considered nod. ‘I might have to give it another
coat.’
‘Shout if you need help,’ Dan shouted across the room. ‘She’s not very
good.’
Could he hear us? Could he hear Emelie? Shi-i-i-t.
‘I’m amazing,’ I countered. ‘I totally did all the edging on my own.’
‘Whatever.’ He turned back to his conversation with Matthew. I turned
back to Helena with slightly redder cheeks than I’d had before.
‘So, um, I saw on Facebook that you two had broken up.’ Helena hedged
around her point awkwardly. ‘Is everything OK?’
Helena was a great neighbour. She took the post in when we went away,
she never made excessive noise and she always had milk and teabags.
Unfortunately, she was not a star singleton role model. Despite being
perfectly good looking, successful and – as far as I knew – disease free,
Helena could not give it away and she was this close to turning 38. Given
the way she was staring at Dan, I wasn’t worried that this was because she
was being too subtle in her approaches.
‘Everything’s fine.’ I did not want to get into the break-up story at that
second. It was Matthew’s night. At least until midnight. Or until I finished
the whiskey. Whichever came first. ‘Thanks.’
‘We should go out together,’ she suggested with a friendly nudge.
‘Unless you haven’t already moved on.’ Another pointed stare at Dan.
‘No, I’m officially single now,’ I replied. ‘Professionally.’
‘Brilliant.’ She slid an arm around my shoulders and hiccuped. ‘No one
knows more about being single than me. Been single for ever, darlin’. I’ll
show you the ropes.’
I accepted her parting slap on the arse with a cheerful laugh. Single
forever. Now there was a cheerful thought.
‘Rach, your phone.’ Em pointed towards a gently vibrating iPhone on top
of the TV. Dashing past the Jersey Whores, I grabbed my phone, ignored
the mass jeers from the crowd that had settled on and around the sofa to
watch and slipped into my bedroom. It was a message. From Ethan. I
nudged the pile of jackets and cardigans over to one end of the bed so I
could sit down and read it properly.
I’d replied to his ‘I’d totally ask you out’ message earlier in a fevered
hour-long session of writing, deleting, writing, editing, deleting and
eventually sending. The general gist of it was that he should be careful what
he wished for, that I couldn’t believe he was single and that I travelled a lot
for work so a trip to Toronto wasn’t out of the question. Which it wasn’t.
Sort of. I couldn’t wait to see what he had to say. I really hoped it didn’t
include mention of a restraining order.
‘Hey, hope you’re having a fun Saturday night. Today was brutal. There
was an incident with an oboe/light-saber battle. Being a teacher is tough
sometimes.’
Too cute.
‘Hmm, why am I single? Good question. I guess I don’t know the answer
or I wouldn’t be! In the interests of full disclosure, I was actually in a pretty
serious relationship until the beginning of this year but that didn’t work out.
She moved away, I didn’t want to. And so, the singleness. I don’t think I’m
very good at it, though, otherwise I’d have more exciting plans than
hanging out with my dog on a Saturday night. Any exciting plans your end
that I should be jealous of?’
Tucking my hair behind my ears, I started my reply. Emelie would be
mortified: imagine replying to a message from a boy Straight Away. But he
was so sweet – how was it possible that he was still so sweet? I wanted to
sound interesting and fun but not like a crazy party girl. I’d managed to
keep The Savoy Incident to myself – this one should be easy. Writing
messages was so hard, how did anyone ever get together through internet
dating?
‘Hi! Happy Saturday!’
Good start, Redhead Rachel congratulated me. Now, let’s just bang this
one out and not take an hour like we did this afternoon.
‘I do not like the sound of your job – lightsabre oboes? I hope you’re
getting danger pay. I’m having a party for my friend’s birthday. He’s
currently sitting on the sofa watching gay porn while everyone brings him
drinks. I think he’s having fun.’
And then I was lost. We’d done all the ‘but you’re so cute!’ parts – how
did I carry this on without it just becoming about the weather and what he
was eating for dinner. Should I carry this on? I knew it was pointless, longdistance
email flirtations rarely ended well, but I wasn’t ready to give up the
kick I got every time my phone buzzed.
‘Staying in with your dog sounds like a lovely Saturday night. Especially
when you compare it to this gay porn birthday party. I hope you have some
equally thrilling plans for the weekend?’
I sent it before I could think better of it and then lay back on the bed for a
moment. I loved my friends and I loved that they’d all trekked over here on
a Saturday night at short notice for the party, but I just needed a minute to
myself. I was so tired. Being single was hard work. Throwing a party,
getting tattoos, screaming at supermodels, going to yoga, dating morons,
running, cutting and colouring your hair, breaking the law, selling your exboyfriend’s
ultra-rare vinyl and then spending the money on designer
undies and painting your flat, all in one week, really took it out of a girl.
‘Whatcha doin?’ Emelie’s head popped around the door. ‘You’re missing
all the fun.’
‘Am I?’ I asked without sitting up.
‘No, not really.’
The bed bounced lightly as she threw herself down beside me. ‘This bed
is comfy.’
‘And now there’s plenty of room in it.’ I stretched out to grasp the
opposite end of the duvet.
‘That’s one good reason why I don’t allow sleepovers,’ Em advised
sagely. ‘Always call them a cab before they get comfy.’
‘I take it all back,’ I said, eyes closed. ‘You and my brother are a match
made in heaven.’
‘Ha,’ she replied. ‘We’ll see about that.’
Em was quiet for a moment.
‘Is everything OK?’ she asked. ‘In general? With you?’
‘I think so.’ I didn’t bother opening my eyes. ‘I just need a minute.’
‘I’m really proud of you, you know,’ she said, finding my hand and
giving it a squeeze. ‘You’re handling this like a pro.’
‘What kind of pro exactly?’
Before she could answer, my phone started vibrating on the bed between
us.
‘International number,’ she said, standing up and slipping out through the
door. ‘Ooh.’
I sat up straight. International? Could it be?
‘Hello?’ My heart was absolutely racing and I had a terrible case of dry
mouth, only partly due to the amount of whiskey I’d drunk.
‘Rachel?’
It was Simon. Almost exactly eight days to the second since he’d done
the deed, it was Simon.
‘Hi,’ I whispered. I wanted to hang up. I wanted to shout and scream but
I couldn’t. I just listened.
‘I’ve been meaning to call all week,’ Simon started slowly. ‘See if you’re
all right.’
‘It’s Matthew’s birthday.’ I was determined to make it through in one
piece. Where was Redhead Rachel when I needed her? ‘We’re having a
party.’
‘Well, tell him happy birthday from me.’ He coughed awkwardly.
‘Listen, I talked to an estate agent about putting the flat on the market
today.’
He was already talking to someone about selling the house? I held the
phone tightly, not saying anything, just feeling it getting hotter and hotter
against my ear.
‘So, if you want to buy me out, we can talk about that.’ The same cold
voice he’d used the last time we’d spoken was back. Obviously this was the
business end of the phone call. ‘I’d just like it sorted out sooner rather than
later.’
Eloquent words at the right times had never really been my strong point.
As my performance with Ana had proved, I’d never been a girl who
excelled at lucid arguments and knocked her opponent down with a single
sentence; but nothing …? I couldn’t come up with anything? That was just
rubbish. So I did the only thing I could do. I hung up. I just wasn’t going to
deal with this right now.
‘Can I come back in?’ Em asked once she was already back through the
door. ‘Was it Ethan?’
‘Simon.’ I stared at the wall in front of me. ‘He wants to sell the flat.’
‘Enculé,’ Em bit a nail. ‘What did you say?’
‘I hung up.’
‘Good girl.’ She gave me a tight smile. ‘What do you want to do?’
‘It’s a birthday party, isn’t it?’ I gave myself a mental and physical shake.
He was not going to ruin my evening. ‘Let’s get our cake on.’
‘Yay.’ Em clapped and brushed down my dress. ‘You look gorgeous by
the way. Fuck that guy.’
‘Fuck that guy,’ I repeated. The words had a very comforting cadence,
especially when repeated over and over and over.
‘Happy birthday to you,’ Em dimmed the lights and began singing as I
stepped carefully through the living room, holding my amazing cheesecake
aloft. Well, holding my slightly sunken on one side but surely still edible
cheesecake aloft. It was the first cake I’d made since a pineapple upsidedown
cake in Home Ec and, god help me, this one had better be edible.
The party seemed to have thinned a little since my time out, but Dan was
still there, albeit trapped in a corner by Helena, and Matthew was holding
court on the sofa while his BFF and premier trolley dolly, Jeremy, furnished
him with the appropriate drinks and snacks. Everyone else seemed to be
smiling. This was officially a good party.
‘Where did you get that?’ Matthew’s reaction to my culinary expertise
was not exactly what I’d been hoping for. ‘I hope you’ve got the receipt.’
‘She made it, you knob.’ Em cracked him round the back of the head. ‘So
shut up and eat it.’
‘You made it?’ His eyes glowed with love and booze. ‘But you can’t
make tea?’
‘I know.’ I was too proud of myself to be offended. ‘And I don’t even
think it’s going to taste horrible.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that.’ He steeled himself and cut a slice, avoiding the
candles. The whole room was silent. Matthew stuck his fork in with
impressive commitment and shovelled a giant mouthful towards his face.
‘It’s not horrible. Is it horrible?’
‘It’s not horrible,’ he confirmed, taking another bite to prove his point.
‘It’s actually good.’
A sigh of relief echoed round my living room as everyone relaxed. I
hadn’t poisoned the birthday boy; they could go on with their evening.
‘Good work, um, Rachel?’ Jeremy said. I nodded confirmation that
Rachel was in fact my name. He’d been Matthew’s best gay buddy for years
and he still couldn’t tell the difference between Emelie and me. ‘You’ll
make someone a lovely wife one day.’
‘Yes, well, quite. If you would just excuse me for a moment.’ I gave him
my best dazzling smile, turned on my heel and marched straight into the
bathroom. Where I let out the most pathetic howl I’d ever heard – and I’d
been there when Matthew got his tattoo. The party responded accordingly
with absolute silence.
‘Jeremy, you knob,’ I heard Emelie screech, before a far calmer version
of the same voice spoke through the bathroom door. ‘Rach? You all right in
there?’
‘Not really,’ I replied from my elegant seat on the toilet.
I spun the toilet-roll holder around and around until all the specially
purchased triple-layer Velvet was on the floor.
‘Can we come in?’
‘Probably not best.’
‘Helena says she needs a piss,’ Matthew said.
‘Helena can go home and have a piss.’ Oh my but my voice sounded a
touch manic.
There was some mumbling outside the door, followed by footsteps,
shuffling, doors banging and more mumbling. Rather than worry what
people were thinking, I concerned myself with getting all that toilet paper
back on the roll.
‘Rach,’ Em called, still on the other side of the door. ‘Matthew and
Jeremy want to go dancing so everyone’s going to Popstarz.’
‘Everyone?’ I tried to imagine Postman Pete in the middle of a throbbing
gay dance party. I suppose you never really knew your neighbours …
‘Yeah, I’m a bit sleepy, though, so we can stay home and demolish the
rest of that cheesecake. If there’s any left.’
It was the most diplomatic way of saying ‘everyone has left because
you’re mentally unstable but I’m staying on suicide watch’ with a side of
‘But hey, remember you made that cheesecake and it wasn’t awful? That’s
your reason to live!’ that I’d ever heard.
‘No, you should go,’ I croaked. ‘I just need a minute. And then I’ll come
and meet you.’
‘I’m not in the mood—’
‘Emelie. You should go,’ I said firmly. ‘I just want to go to bed and I’m
not in the mood for a sleepover.’
Further muffled debate outside the door.
‘Hey, Rach, Em’s coming to Popstarz so just get in a taxi and come if you
want?’ Matthew yelled. He actually sounded glad to escape. His mind
hadn’t been at this party from the beginning. If I wasn’t losing my own
tentative grip on sanity on the toilet, I might have thought more about
where his was.
I smiled and ran a finger along the hem of my pretty dress. Sorry, dress.
You deserved better than this, I thought.
‘Get off you, daft cow,’ Matthew hissed. It sounded like he was enduring
some physical opposition to his declaration. ‘Not you, angel. Just telling
Emelie not to be retarded, I know you’re fine. We’ll see you later.’
‘See you later.’ I tried really hard to make it sound like I wasn’t crying.
Waiting until I heard the front door slam shut, I stood up amidst a sea of
bog roll and sighed unnecessarily loudly. It made me feel better. Redhead
Rachel gave me a foul look in the mirror as I opened the door and peered
out. Empty glasses, cans and discarded paper plates everywhere. Nothing
like the aftermath of a party to make you feel like shit. I had to clean up. I
had to take the dress off to clean up. Reaching around for the zip, I
unfastened the dress and shucked it off. Such were the benefits of living
alone: you could be in your underwear in your living room and no one saw.
Or cared. I let the silk swoosh onto the living-room floor and stepped out of
the puddle of pale blue prettiness. Just before I heard footsteps coming up
the hallway.
‘Oh, bloody hell.’ Dan stood at the living-room door, shielding his eyes. I
didn’t know whether to be ecstatically happy or mortified that I was
wearing my minxish new lingerie. I suppose it was better to flash someone
in the lingerie of a burlesque performer as opposed to that of your average
nan. He quickly pulled off his jumper and threw it in my general direction.
It was just about within the scope of my understanding that I was supposed
to put it on.
‘I’m sorry,’ I squealed, my head lost inside the soft fabric. ‘I’m so sorry. I
thought everyone was gone.’
‘I came back for my keys.’ He peered through his fingers. ‘The door
wasn’t shut properly.’
I nodded at my toes. Well, this was awkward.
‘You all right?’
I looked up. What a bloody stupid question.
‘You’re so much better than this, you know.’ He gestured around the
living room. Was he slating my decorating? Was he slating his decorating?
‘You’re not some prematurely middle-aged housewife. You’re not boring.
You’re amazing.’
‘I’m prematurely middle-aged?’ It took a minute for the second part of
the sentence to filter through. ‘I’m amazing?’
‘Yeah, like, you should still be doing better jobs,’ Dan said quickly. ‘Not
just sticking to the local stuff because you’ve got to get home and cook your
boyfriend’s tea. I think this whole break-up thing is going to be good for
you.’
‘Right.’ I ignored the crushing disappointment in my chest and pulled the
jumper down to my knees. ‘Well, maybe I like being at home to cook my
boyfriend’s tea?’ This didn’t feel like the time to mention the fact that I
hadn’t cooked Simon’s tea once in five years.
‘Or maybe you should come on the Sydney job with me,’ he added. ‘The
people they’ve suggested so far are shit.’
Sydney! This was where I was supposed to be jumping up and down with
joy but my feet were glued to the spot. The room was still lit by fairy lights
and the remains of Mathew’s cheesecake sat on the table between us. The
birthday candle wicks, black and fuzzy.
‘I talked to Veronica about it,’ I said. ‘She’s going to put me forward, I
think.’
‘You’ll get it. You’re one of the best out there, you know,’ he said,
leaving the safety of the doorway and walking over to where I stood,
swamped by his huge sweater. I really was a short-arse.
‘And you’re funny,’ he went on. ‘You’re clever, you’re unpredictable
and, with some training, you could make a half-decent painter’s mate.’
And I was lost for words. ‘Thanks?’
‘You don’t need to check things off a list to teach you how to be
amazing.’ He was standing right in front of me. Close enough for me to
notice he hadn’t shaved. Close enough for me to notice dark circles under
his eyes. Close enough to smell his shampoo. ‘You’ll have a new boyfriend
before you can blink.’
I blinked.
And then Dan kissed me.
It was short and soft and very brief but I still panicked. Pulling away
sharply I clapped my hand over my mouth and locked my wide eyes on his.
That was a definite kiss, not just an awkward swoop like at The Savoy.
Definite lip on lip. But Dan didn’t move. He just stood there, looking at me,
all soft brown eyes, full lips and chocolate curls resting on his cheekbones.
He didn’t apologize; he didn’t say anything. Instead, he took my hand in
his, held it down by my side and kissed me again. And this time, I didn’t
stop him.
The hand that wasn’t holding on to mine brushed my cheek before the
fingers curled around my face, weaving themselves lightly into my hair. His
lips were soft and the gentle kisses quickly began to build into something
more as my body responded. My brain was still back in the bathroom trying
to work out how to get the loo roll back on the holder, and I was quite
happy for it to stay there. Its services were not required. My hands reached
up around his neck, combing through his curls, my feet pushing me up onto
tiptoes to better reach his kisses. This was insane. I was kissing Dan. But
my heart was beating loudly in my ears, determined to drown out the voice
in my head that kept saying this was stupid and whiskey-fuelled and that I’d
regret it in the morning, I just couldn’t find the words to make him stop.
Because I really didn’t want him to.
Instead, I let Dan pick me up until my toes were off the ground, and push
me backwards against my big fluffy sofa cushions, the warm weight of his
body settling on top of me. His lips were still firmly fixed to mine but his
hands began to wander, sliding underneath his whisper-soft jumper, settling
on my lower back. At first.
‘I have thought about this for so long,’ he whispered, starting a trail of
kisses from my ear all the way down my neck. I still didn’t have words but
my broken breath seemed to be enough. In lieu of words, I reluctantly
pulled my hands out of his hair and ran them across his broad shoulders,
tracing the muscles in his back. Lugging around all the camera equipment
really had made for a great daily workout. He felt so solid and strong.
Loosening his tie, he unfastened his top two buttons before putting his
hands to work elsewhere.
‘Oh,’ I squeaked, opening my eyes in surprise. ‘Cold hands.’
‘Sorry,’ he said, a small smile in his voice, but I could tell he didn’t mean
it. Mostly because he was too busy trying to take off the jumper that he’d
given me to put on five minutes before. ‘Do you wear this under those
leggings every day?’
‘No.’ My voice sounded breathless and strange. ‘Or yes? Actually yes.’
Compared to the other whoppers I’d been banging out lately, it was only
a tiny white lie.
‘Amazing.’ His fingertips grazed the lace trim of my underwear before
he went back to relieving himself of his own clothes. The sound of a fly
being unzipped was apparently what it was going to take to bring me to my
senses. Dan was my friend. I was very recently single. But his strong hands
on my soft skin felt so amazing. I was upset about Simon’s phone call. This
wasn’t real. My legs slid up around his waist while his jeans slid down
towards the floor. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so wanted. The
last time I’d wanted someone just as much. But this really was just about
the stupidest thing I could do, besides going outside and dragging a stranger
in from the street. I couldn’t do this.
‘I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to do this at work,’ he said.
‘Just drop my camera and push you up against the wall and just … for years
…’ Dan’s words trailed off into low moans and I felt teeth on my earlobe.
Rowr.
‘Really?’ I heard myself. I sounded surprised. Back in the bathroom, my
brain acknowledged that yes, this was in fact a surprise. It also wanted to
come back into the living room but I wasn’t ready to let it in yet.
‘Really.’ He pushed himself up on one elbow and looked down at me
with dark, heavy, dilated eyes. I pressed one hand across his chest, feeling
his heart beating hard. This was it, last chance to be sensible. ‘I’ve wanted
to be with you for so long. I’ve waited for so long.’
Everything was just starting to get hot and loud and blurred when I heard
my phone trilling loudly in the bedroom.
‘Ignore it,’ Dan murmured, pinning my wrists above my head.
‘It’s Emelie’s ring.’ I arched my back and felt a shudder run all the way
down from the top of my head to my toes. ‘I should answer it.’
‘She’ll get the hint.’ He buried his face in my neck and oh, there was the
earlobe thing again. This was wildly unfair. ‘Please.’
But I knew Emelie wouldn’t give in. And if I didn’t tell her I was OK,
she’d only come home to check what was going on. And that was the last
thing I needed because, quite honestly, I had no idea myself. ‘One second.’
I reluctantly pushed his hands away and found the floor with my feet. ‘Just
one second.’
I picked the jumper up off the floor and pulled it on, readjusting my bra
strap as I went. Worth every bloody penny, I thought as I dashed into the
bedroom as fast as my wobbly knees would let me. My iPhone glowed in
the darkness with three missed calls, all in the last five minutes, all from
Emelie. As I picked it up, the phone buzzed into life.
‘Hey,’ I answered quickly. ‘I’m fine, I just really can’t talk right now, I
—’
‘Rachel, that cheesecake you made, did it have walnuts in it?’ Emelie cut
me off. ‘Matthew’s face is like, fifteen times bigger than it should be.’
‘Oh, fuck.’ I pressed my hand to my mouth. ‘I didn’t check the biscuits. I
totally forgot about his nut thing.’
‘He’s going to be OK, we’re on our way to the hospital,’ she replied. ‘I
just need to know what to tell the doctor.’
‘Hasn’t he got his shot thing with him?’ I ran past a semi-naked Dan and
into the kitchen, looking for the spare epi-pen I kept in case of emergencies.
Of which we’d already had two this year. Matthew wasn’t nearly as careful
as he should be, but I couldn’t believe I’d been so stupid.
‘He didn’t bring it; he said his jeans were too tight and it made him look
like he had a permanent skinny hard-on.’
‘Of course he did. I’m on my way.’
‘You don’t have to come,’ Em said. ‘We’re almost there.’
‘Yeth thee doth,’ I heard Matthew lisp in the background. ‘I’m goin’ to
thlap her.’
‘I’m on my way.’ And back through the living room, ignoring the
beautiful man on the sofa and into the bedroom. Jeans. I needed jeans. I’d
poisoned my best friend on his birthday. This was a new level of fail.
‘Hey, I – oh my.’
On my third trip back to the living room, I was greeted with the sight of
Dan, stretched out on the sofa, shirt fully unfastened and revealing the
previously unexpected chest hair scattered across. His jeans were gone,
boxers on, but failing to completely conceal something else previously
unexpected but hotly anticipated. Gosh.
‘Everything OK?’ he asked. He was obviously a comfortable semi-naked
person. But, to be fair, he had good reason to be. ‘Come here.’
‘This is not good timing, I realize.’ I was well aware that I was to go
nowhere near the sofa. Instead, I clung to the doorframe, keeping a good
and safe few feet between us. I must have picked my brain up somewhere
en route. ‘But I have to go. Matthew has this nut allergy and he was allergic
to the cheesecake and he’s on his way to hospital. I’m so sorry.’
I really, really was.
‘Isn’t Emelie with him?’ Dan sat up and reached for my hand, pulling me
back down towards him. My safety range was nearly safe enough. ‘You
look adorable in that jumper, by the way. Now take it off.’
‘Dan, I really have to go, it’s serious,’ I sighed, weaving my hands into
his hair. The theory was to stop him from moving his kisses anywhere more
persuasive, but it just seemed to encourage him. I felt his breath on my neck
and almost melted away altogether. ‘Really, I have to go to the hospital.’
When I failed to reciprocate, he pulled away, the glazed glittering fading
from his eyes.
‘Seriously? You have to go right now?’
At last.
‘I have to go right now.’ I nodded, thankful I’d put jeans on before I
came back into the living room. The more layers of fabric between us, the
better.
‘Fine, give me a minute and I’ll go with you.’ He started buttoning up his
shirt.
‘No, don’t worry. You can let yourself out.’ My handbag sat on the floor
beside the sofa in its usual hiding spot. I picked it up, slung it across myself
and quickly checked my cash situation. Just enough to get a taxi. If I could
get a taxi. ‘Um, I’ll talk to you later?’
‘Rachel, I want to come,’ Dan said, shuffling into his jeans. ‘My car is
outside, I’ll drive.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ I already had a hand on the door. This was getting more
awkward by the second. I obviously wasn’t made for one-night stands,
friends with benefits, or whatever the hell this would have become. ‘Really,
it’s OK.’
‘Will you just stop for a second.’ He raised his voice just enough for me
to notice. ‘I want to drive you to the hospital. I want to come with you.’
I stopped for a moment. This was just too much. I needed to get outside,
clear my head.
‘You don’t have to be all – like – decent.’ As soon as the word was out of
my mouth, I knew it was a mistake. ‘This was, whatever, but I have to go.’
‘I don’t have to be decent?’
He grabbed his tie from the floor and shoved it into his pocket. I stared
awkwardly at my tattoo. I would never regret getting it: what an amazing
lifelong distraction.
‘What is that supposed to mean?’ he demanded. ‘Am I not decent? Do
you think I have to try to behave like a decent human being?’
‘No, it’s just that you don’t have to do that,’ I said to the floor. ‘It’s not
like you’re my boyfriend or anything. I can get to the hospital on my own.’
‘What am I, Rachel?’ he asked quietly. ‘Tell me what I am to you exactly.
What you think this is?’
‘You’re Dan,’ I replied with a heavy sigh. ‘And this is what you do. And
we’re friends and it was stupid of me to let it go this far. Because we’re
friends.’
‘I’m Dan?’ he laughed. ‘I’m your dickhead mate, Dan. Good enough for
a fumble on the sofa but not good enough to drive you to the hospital when
you need someone. Not good enough to be your boyfriend because nothing
means anything to Dan.’
‘Don’t.’ I was itching to leave. And to stop feeling so incredibly horrible.
‘I know you think—’
‘How do you know what I think?’ He forced his feet into his trainers.
‘You haven’t got a fucking clue what I think.’
‘I need to go.’
That much was true. In the space of five minutes I’d gone from wanting
to be as close as physically possible to this man, right through to as far
away as human endeavour would allow. That and Matthew could be dead
for all I knew. It was more likely that his tongue had swollen to the size of a
double-decker bus and he was cursing my name, but still.
‘Fine, but let me get this straight.’ He pushed his hair back out of his face
and came closer. ‘So that, just then, it was just what – a quick shag?’
‘Dan, don’t.’
‘Something to cross off the list?’
Had I missed something? Had it gone in?
This time my silence was not a positive.
‘Wow. Thanks Rachel.’ He pushed past me and headed straight for the
front door. ‘I really did not think you were like this.’
‘I’m not like this!’ I threw my hands in the air. ‘I don’t even know what
this is. You’re the one that’s like this!’
‘Like what exactly?’ he said, opening the door. ‘All I know is I’m an
idiot.’
‘Look. This isn’t making a lot of sense. I need to leave. You obviously
want to leave. Can we just pretend this never happened?’
‘Maybe we should just pretend I don’t even know you.’ He gave me a
filthy look from the doorway. ‘Because, apparently, I don’t.’
The door slammed behind him, making me jump. He got the last word as
always. I didn’t have time to try to work out what had just happened. Or
almost happened. I had a fun Saturday night in A&E to look forward to.
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