‘It was like aFinal Destinationaccident,’ I remind him. ‘I mean, come on, we caused water damage, then fire damage, then water damage again.’
‘Well, that last one was for the fire,’ he points out with a cheeky grin.
Honestly, I don’t even know that happened. I mean, I do, it was because we were too busy getting busy to realise we had knocked over a bottle of champagne, flooding an electric heater with the contents – which we had on, because it was cold – which started smoking and sizzling and then… it’s all a blur, I think Ethan threw water over it, to stop any sort of fire in itstracks, I managed to knock over the framed photo of Jennifer and her family while I was frantically trying to turn the power off, and it was just mess on mess, on chaos, on mess.
‘We sorted it out,’ he reminds me. ‘And no one ever found out.’
‘But if they had found out, I would have lost my job,’ I say. ‘I could have been in even more trouble than that – especially if we had caused more damage. We could have burned the place to the ground.’
‘Isn’t that everyone’s fantasy?’ he replies. ‘To burn their office down?’
I can’t help but laugh because he’s got a point.
‘We fixed, sure, but the way we fixed – it felt unhinged, what we did. It was psychotic, sociopath shit,’ I remind him.
‘It was also the coolest thing I’ve ever done, and the most alive I’ve ever felt, and just something about doing it together – I don’t know – as awful as it was, and as stressed as I was, looking back it only makes it seem hotter. And, hey, we work great together as a team.’
I mean, we did work great together as a team that night. We knew we had made a mess, and that we would be in big trouble if anyone found out, so we set about covering it up. Sure, there was no way to make everything as it was when we found it, so what we needed to do was offer an alternative narrative, a different version of events that could have brought about the same accident. It was the middle of the night and we were still drunk, so I’ll never know how we pulled it off, but some careful arranging of a window that was ‘left open’, and a plant that was knocked over, and a cup of coffee Jennifer clearly never finished (in her favourite ‘If I’m too much then go find less’ mug) tipped over in just the right (or technically wrong) way and it actually looked like a genuine accident. What’s interesting is that Jennifer must have thought it was her fault, because when Icame into the office the next day there was no mention of it. She genuinely believed it was a mistake she had made, and so she covered it up for us. It really was the perfect crime and, yes, I do feel like a psycho saying that. It was also the reason we ended up swearing we would never see each other again, if that was the kind of mess we were going to make. We’d already had the incident with the blinds, and the trouble we caused on the night out before that. Thinking about it now just reminds me of how close we came to throwing it all away and for what, a shag? A few shags? A few incredible shags, fair enough, but there’s good sex and then there’s burning an office block down.
A loud thumping on the door snaps me from my thoughts. I look to Ethan, concerned.
‘Stay here,’ he tells me.
I don’t know what the problem is but I just know it’s going to be something – something that we’ve done, or caused, or happened because of us. Maybe it’s the police because they think I drugged Pat. Maybe it’s Jennifer, because she’s got me bugged, and I just confessed to the crime we made her cover up. Maybe it’s Steve with an axe. All I know is that whatever it is, it’s bad news, and it’s because we’re together.
Fuck you, universe.
23
I place my index finger silently over my lips and widen my eyes in Ethan’s direction to let him know that I’m being serious. He has to be quiet.
It takes me the best part of a minute to place my key in the lock and turn it ever so softly, making sure that my other keys don’t make a tinkling sound, that the lock doesn’t make too much noise as it turns, that the door hasn’t suddenly developed a new extra-loud creak (or that Steve hasn’t fitted it with one of those bells that shops have, so that you know when customers walk in).
I hold up my hand, letting Ethan know to stay put in the doorway, before creeping in to peer around into the living room, to make sure that Steve hasn’t sat up waiting for me. It’s not like he hasn’t done it before.
Without saying a word, I beckon Ethan indoors with my hand. Impressively, he manages to close the door and lock it without much of a sound. Now all that’s left to do is make it to my bedroom.
Steve is normally very strict about this being a ‘shoes off at the door’ home, but do you know what makes him even angrierthan that? Me fraternising with boys. The best thing I can do is get the two of us safely to my bedroom, where we can hide out for the rest of the night, and then I’ll either sneak Ethan out as soon as it’s morning, or I’ll keep him here until Steve goes to work. Lucky for me (not that any part of this feels lucky in any way) I’m off work tomorrow, to get the last of my things ready, before flying in the early hours of the next day. This is my last full night of sleep before I catch my flight to Sydney, and this is how I’m spending it. Incredible.
Ethan carries his suitcase so that it doesn’t make any noises that might wake up Steve. He’s great at sneaking into flats, which makes me wonder if it’s a skill he picked up by sneaking out of them.
Inside my room, I close the door carefully behind me and finally exhale.
‘So, the walls aren’t that thick,’ I whisper to him. ‘But if we stick to whispering, we should be okay.’
‘Great,’ he calls back.
I don’t turn on the big light – not just because only psychopaths like the big light on, but because it feels more incognito to only turn on the dim light next to my bed.
‘Oh,’ Ethan blurts – still keeping his voice nice and quiet. ‘You only have a single bed.’
‘And you don’t have any other options,’ I tell him.
‘I can sleep on the floor, it’s all good,’ he replies.
I know that’s probably the safest thing to do, but I can’t be so cruel.
‘Don’t be daft, it’s freezing,’ I reply. ‘I’m sure we’re safe to share a bed. The universe only gets mad if it thinks we’re going to have sex.’
