“I’ve got test results, too. For the record, I’m not in the habit of having drunk, unprotected sex with random people.”
Ouch. I flinch.
“But, we should get tested in a couple of weeks, just to be sure,” Jimmy says.
I nod and set a reminder on my phone.
“Last night… The way I remember it… It was consensual. And I’m not just saying that so you don’t call the police,” he says.
“Don’t worry. That’s how I remember it, too.”
My memory is still hazy and patchy. I’m not sure I want it to come into sharp focus or for all the blanks to be filled in. I remember enough to know I wanted him, and that the sex was quick and clumsy. I’m pretty sure we were as drunk as each other, probably one drink off paralytic. If only we’d had another drink, this would never have happened.
“You’ve not slept with anyone since you got divorced?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Why?”
“I’m not ready for another relationship.”
He laughs. “Sex and relationships are not the same thing.”
I lift my chin. “All right, I wasn’t ready to sleep with anyone else.” Except I did. I slept with him.
He whistles. “I don’t get it. Angus is on a dry spell, too. I like sex too much to abstain.”
I press my lips together.
“Too much information?”
“Yes.”
He smiles. I wish he wouldn’t, because his smile is disarming. It always was. He and Billy are identical twins, but I’ve always been able to tell them apart. Of course, now Jimmy has jacked up, pierced his ears, and shaved the sides of his head, so they’ll be easy for anyone to tell apart. The rippling muscles suit him. I need to scrub my brain out.
We all used to be friends, but when Billy and I got together, Jimmy became distant and cold. When Billy and I got married, a month after I turned eighteen, Jimmy stopped talking to me altogether. Was he upset because he thought I was trying to take his brother away from him? I wasn’t. I never meant to become the wedge between them.
“I should go.” I get dressed. It’s impossible to do sowithout revealing myself to him. Not that he and his housemate haven’t already seen it all.
“Do you want anything? Breakfast?” he asks.
The thought of food makes my stomach churn. I put my hand over my mouth.
“Water? We must be dehydrated.”
“Some water would be good. Do you have any paracetamol?”
“Good call. I’ll fetch some. Wait here.”
Where else am I going to go?
Jimmy returns a few moments later, juggling two pint glasses filled with water and a packet of paracetamol. He hands me one glass and pops out two pills for each of us. I take them, then gulp down the rest of the water. It relieves my parched throat. I need to brush my teeth. My breath must stink of stale alcohol.
Jimmy downs his water, then refills our glasses. I drink the second pint slower.
“Why are you here?” Jimmy asks.
“Uh—”
