Becca poured out two glasses of orange juice, sloshing a generous helping of vodka into each. She handed one to me and walked past, heading for her bedroom. I took a sip of my drink and grimaced at the bitter taste, following behind.
I had slept over at Becca’s a few times, usually because of the girl’s penchant for getting me too drunk to find my own way home. It had started to become a bit of a trend. I climbed onto her bed and made myself comfortable, putting my glass down on her bedside table.
Becca put her own drink down and plumped her pillows up behind her. She grabbed the bowl of popcorn from the side and put it between us.
I sat forward and dragged my hooded jacket over my head. Becca’s eyes dropped to the Harley Davidson logo on my dark grey t-shirt, and I plucked the material from my abs self-consciously.
“Harley Davidson?” she cocked her eyebrow. “I didn’t take you for a motorbike fanatic.”
“I’m not. My flatmate Oliver bought it as a joke, given my last name.” I shrugged with a grin. My attention flickered to the popcorn, and I grabbed a handful, shovelling it into my mouth. “So, what’s on first? I swear to God, if you say Brokeback Mountain, I’m out of here.”
Several glasses of vodka and orange juice later, I lay on my back on Becca’s bed with her tucked under my arm, resting her head on my chest.
“Have you decided what you're going to do about fancying Rowan yet?” Becca slurred.
“Not really.” I rubbed my face, cringing as I remembered the ink fiasco from earlier in the day. Clearly even vodka wasn’t going to erase that memory any time soon. “Today was the worst. I was chewing my pen—”
“You slut,” Becca teased.
“Shut up,” I scoffed. “So, it must have burst, right? I got ink all over me and Rowan cleaned it off for me.”
When Becca didn’t interject with a smart-mouth comment, I looked down at her. She narrowed her eyes with confusion. “Why? That’s a bit…” she trailed off.
“Right?” I replied enthusiastically. “Thank you. I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks it’s a bit forward.”
“What happened after that?” Becca asked.
“Well, I clearly read the roomcompletelywrong, ’cause when I…” I groaned, fresh embarrassment flooding me. “I properly put myself out there, and like, offered for him to help me get the ink off my tongue?”
“Max!” Becca gasped and started laughing. “Why would you say that?”
“I don’t know,” I cried with another pained groan.
“Christ, you really did put yourself out there, didn’t you?” she giggled. “Did he say anything after that?”
“Nope. I left to clean myself up in the bathroom and when I came back, he was gone. Not a good sign, right?” I grimaced.
“Well, it’s done now. At least you’ve got your answer.” Becca shrugged. “If he was ever going to be interested in you, that would have been the green light. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“That he sacks me for sexual harassment, and I get struck off the NHS register and have to find a new job,” I replied.
Becca was silent for a long moment. “Well, shit.”
We both stared at the TV, but I could tell neither of us was watching the film. Keen to change the subject back to something more light-hearted, I cleared my throat.
“Oh, so I meant to ask you earlier.” Becca turned her head to look up at me. “I heard you’re in charge of organising the work’s Christmas party this year. What have you got in mind?”
“We had a pamphlet through the post back in October with a twenty percent discount off drinks for groups at Glitterball.” She grinned.
“Glitterball as in… The bar and club?” I laughed. “Is that really a suitable choice for healthcare professionals, Becca?”
“Last year John ended up in a strip barby accident. I really don’t think it could go much worse. Besides, they do tapas there now,” Becca explained, still grinning.
I laughed loudly. “A strip bar?”
“Glitterball was the only place that filled everyone’s requirements – John wanted food, Trish wanted to dance,Iwanted cheap drinks…”
“Well, you know best.” I shook my head. The club scene was not my go-to, usually much preferring a meal or a trendy bar – something Oliver often berated me for, calling me a stick in the mud.
