Becca pulled me into a hug by my neck. “Are you having a good night?” she slurred.
“It’s been great. Listen, will you be alright to get home if I leave?” I asked quickly. Becca did a double take.
“You mean, you’re going home with Rowan?” she said, dumfounded. I simply nodded, flashing her a nervous smile. She raised her eyebrows but pulled me into another tight hug.
“You owe me,” she muttered.
“I definitely do. Will you be okay getting yourself home?”
“I’ll be fine. Louise will make sure I get home safely, right?” Becca turned to the blonde girl, who was nodding in agreement. I hooked my arm around Louise’s neck and gave her a hug too.
After a few quick goodbyes, I wriggled back through the bodies towards where Rowan was standing waiting for me. As soon as I was close enough, Rowan held my glass out to me, and I took it gratefully. Despite there being more than half of the drink left, I downed it quickly, nerves getting the better of me already.
“Okay let’s go,” I said decisively, placing my now empty glass down on a nearby table. Rowan just nodded, taking my hand in his once more. I followed behind, letting him lead me to the exit. Juice was conveniently located right outside a taxi rank, a fact that I was immensely grateful for as Rowan, and I made our way into the wintry night air. It was raining heavily, and we dashed across the small courtyard towards a line of black taxis.
After talking to the driver quickly, we both hurriedly jumped into the backseat of the taxi. My teeth were chattering, and I noticed the light material of Rowan’s t-shirt had grown rather see-through from the rain. I rubbed my arms, attempting to get the blood circulation flowing again, all the while subtly eyeing Rowan’s chest.
Rowan gave the driver directions to his house, and I remembered him telling me before that he lived on the new housing estate they had built on the other side of town. I was curious to see what kind of house Rowan lived in, even though it made me uncomfortable knowing it wasn’tjusthim who lived in it.
Neither Rowan nor I said a word the entire journey, just the noise of the car and a faint warble of the driver’s radio interrupting our silence. I was nervous, knowing I was going home with a married man to the house he, his wife and his daughter lived in. I knew they weren’t going to be there, but it still left me decidedly on-edge.
It took less time than I thought to get to our destination, thanks in no small part to the alcohol. Soon we were pulling into a street filled with large, typically suburban homes. I noted, even in my intoxicated state, that there were nice, shiny cars with this year’s number plate parked in pretty much every drive. It felt surreal to be there, like we’d gone to a different country, not just a different part of town.
The taxi halted outside a house, and I spotted Rowan’s car straight away. He dug his wallet out and handed the driver a few notes as I got out of the cab. I stood on the pavement, waiting for Rowan and trying not to think too much about what I had agreed to.
We rushed up the three small steps to his front door, keen to get out of the rain and I listened to the taxi pulling away into the night behind us. There was no going back now. Neither of us said anything, Rowan’s keys clinking noisily as he pushed the door open, gesturing for me to enter first. I took a deep breath and stepped inside.
I couldn’t see much of the hallway I had just walked into, darkness shrouding everything. Rowan closed the door and flicked a light switch on, causing me to wince a little at the bright light. The first thing I noticed was how un-homely it was.
“First door on the right is the living room,” Rowan told me, tone suggesting I should go in and make myself at home. In all honesty, I was surprisedhecould even make himself at home in this place. Nevertheless, I kicked my shoes off and wandered obediently through the door Rowan had pointed out. I heard him locking the front door behind us and noted uncomfortably that he was doing a good job of protecting himself from being discovered. I couldn’t help wondering if he’d been thinking about this for a while.
“Where’s the light?” I called, running my hands against the walls, searching for a switch. Rowan didn’t answer, just followed behind me and flicked the lights on for me. I felt a little foolish as I came to realise I had been searching the wrong wall.
The living room was large, almost the size of my room and lounge combined. Everything was suitably modern; all the furnishings matched and were laid out perfectly. It was like being in a sofa showroom.
“Wow, it’s clean in here,” I muttered, glancing at the pristine cream carpet that stretched out across the floor.
“I have a fantastic cleaning lady and a lot of stain remover,” Rowan chuckled.
I shifted from foot to foot as I watched him busying around the room. The curtains were closed, and Rowan bent to fiddle with the controls on the front of a stainless-steel box mounted on the wall. There was a small flicker of flames, and I quickly realised the mysterious box was a gas heater.
“Uh, where’s the bathroom?” I asked quietly, not really needing to use it but feeling a little overwhelmed and wanting a moment to compose my thoughts.
“Oh, the door at the very end.” Rowan smiled, gesturing back out into the hall.
“Thanks.” I turned quickly and followed his instructions. The house was much larger on the inside than it had comprehended from the street. I walked past at least three other doors before reaching the one I assumed would be the toilet. It was two stories as well I concluded, spotting a staircase leading to a landing with a computer desk sat on it.
I opened the door, relieved when I revealed impossibly clean porcelain bathroom fittings and hunted for the light. It didn’t take me half as long to locate the drawstring cord as it did the switch in the lounge. I tugged it and closed the door swiftly, bolting myself in.
Once alone, I took a deep breath in an attempt to relax. It felt so wrong to be here and yet I couldn’t bring myself to regret agreeing to come back with Rowan. I felt guilty for not feeling guilty. Sitting on the toilet seat, I took in my surroundings. Yet again I was astounded by the lack of clutter. It really was like a show home.
Even though I hadn’t actually used the toilet, I flushed it anyway and washed my hands – splashing my face to cool myself off a little. I took a few deep breaths as I dried my hands and face in the perfect fluffy hand towel. It smelt comfortingly like Rowan’s clean work shirts. I headed back out to the living room.
The large room was empty and dimly lit when I returned. The main light wasn’t on anymore, the only light sources coming from a decorative lamp, a few candles and the fire. A door that I hadn’t noticed before was open in the far corner of the room.
I sat down on the sofa, fussing with my hair nervously. I could hear movement, cupboards opening and closing, the familiar clink of glass against glass. I assumed the door must lead to the kitchen. For a moment or two I sat in silence before my curiosity got the best of me. I got to my feet and shuffled warily to the door.
The kitchen was huge. A large breakfast bar stretched around one side of the room and there was a large island of yet more cupboards in the centre of the square created by the counters. It looked like something straight off the Magnet kitchen design adverts on TV.
