‘If you buy me that drink,’ he said. ‘Seeing as you said they’re free and all…’
* * *
I woke up the next morning feeling dreadful.
There was something wrong with my pillow — that was the first thing I noticed. It had a strange embroidered relief that was digging uncomfortably into my cheek.
I fidgeted until I found a smooth patch and almost fell back to sleep, but then I realised something wasn’t right and moved my hand so that I could run my fingertips over the unfamiliar pattern. Not my pillow.
I rolled onto my back and tried to open my eyes, but the light in the room was so blinding it took me two or three attempts before I could focus.Abnormal amount of light. Not my ceiling.
I slid a hand across the thick cotton sheets.Not my sheets, either.
I sat bolt upright and looked around to see that I was in a bright, modern studio flat. There was a gloss red kitchen along one wall and a big sunlit bay window at the front. It was then I remembered, I was at Rob’s.
‘Oh shit,’ I murmured. It was all coming back to me now: the drinks, the laughter – Rob’s jokes, which had been so awful they’d been funny. His invitation – irresistible to drunken me – to come back to his place for cheese on toast.
The wobbly walk up the hill: he’d given me a piggyback halfway, and had actually dropped me because he’d drunkenly tripped over a bollard. I had a bruise on my elbow to prove that and another memory of us laughing ourselves silly as he’d tried to pull me to my feet.
Then… what? I couldn’t remember. Oh! The cheese on toast (heavenly), in the kitchen. Quite probably the best cheese on toast ever made. Then we’d sat on the sofa talking about… Mum, maybe, and how much fun she was? There was a vague memory of us agreeing that Pernod and ouzo should be banned because they were taste crimes. Rob had put Bananarama on his stereo, which had made me laugh some more because it seemed so camp.
Then… a gap… followed by the two of us on the sofa kissing. That had felt lovely and I’d been the one – blush – to initiate sex by reaching down and unbuckling Rob’s belt. Rob, bless him, had been shocked by that. Next up from my unreliable memory bank: his fumbling lack of technique before suddenly – before I’d even got going – unexpectedly arriving at the finish line. Even more surprising had been his tears on pulling out. Because, no, in the end, Rob had not turned out to be gay. What Rob had turned out to be was a virgin.
‘Shit!’ I said. ‘Shit, shit, shit!’
I threw the quilt aside and stood. The room spun for a moment but then settled.
I looked down at my naked body. If proof was needed that this wasn’t merely a bad dream, there it was: five foot eight of sweaty, naked skin.
I moved to the lounge end of the room, where I found my clothes in a pile, neatly folded, and, at the sight of the sofa, more memories: the kissing, the grappling… casting my clothes off as we moved towards the bed. And the memory of a decision, too. Because, though I’d been drunk, I remembered deciding quite clearly. Billy would be proud of me, I’d thought. He’d see that I was able to claim my freedom as well. What stupid, drunken logic hadthatbeen?
‘Rob?’ I called out, just to confirm that he really had gone out.Silence.
I slid a door open and peeped in on a blindingly white-tiled bathroom. I closed the door behind me and sat down to pee, taking in the wet-room shower design, the ginormous chrome shower head, the folded fluffy towels… It looked like a hotel bathroom or… No, actually, what it looked like was one of those TV makeovers. The whole place looked like it had been redone by Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen. Perhaps Rob was gay, after all.
Though a shower was tempting, I merely splashed my face with water and pulled my clothes on. I’d get out of here before Rob came back, and we could all just forget this had ever happened. But as I reached for the bathroom door handle, I heard a key in the front door.
‘Dawn!’ Rob called out. ‘Dawney? Are you still here, Dawney?’
I stepped out into the bedroom area and grimaced at him.
‘Oh there you are,’ Rob said. ‘I thought you’d done a runner on me.’
‘I was about to,’ I admitted.
‘I just went to get a few bits,’ he explained, jiggling a Happy Shopper bag around. ‘Crumpets and stuff. Coffee, too.’
‘I really should just go,’ I said, avoiding eye contact. ‘This was—’
‘Dawn,’ he said. ‘Stay for coffee.’
‘I can’t,’ I said. ‘Sorry. I… I have a… Look, I just need to go, OK?’
‘I know,’ Rob said. ‘You told me. You told me all about Billy last night. I’m not asking for anything. But stay for some coffee. Please? Last night was a big deal for me.’
My stomach rumbled. I was hungry –hangoverhungry. ‘Crumpets, you say?’ I asked.
‘Yes, yes! Crumpets!’ Rob said, nodding with childlike enthusiasm and digging into the bag. ‘I got Marmite and marmalade, too. I didn’t know which one you’d want, so…’
