Chapter Fifteen
Fin
‘Somebody hasn’t been sleepingin their bed.’ Natasha’s voice greets me as I open the door to the flat. ‘What happened to your tights?’
I glance down at my bare, cold legs, quickly looking back up again to where Ivy is curled on the sofa like a cat. Okay, a cartoon cat seeing as how she’s almost as green as the pillow supporting her head.
‘I—they had a bit of an accident.’
‘Is that what we’re calling it now?’ Nat teases, her smile beaming from ear to ear. She sits in the old wingback chair looking, for all intents and purposes, like a father awaiting his errant daughter’s return. Though I suppose he wouldn’t necessarily be grinning, but what do I know. I’ve never had a father figure wait up for me. ‘I can’t wait for the opportunity to remind the pair of you about this,’ she crows. ‘How was your walk of shame? See anyone we know?’
Maybe I should be annoyed? Ashamed? I can’t find either sentiment, strangely.
‘Don’t gloat so loudly,’ groans Ivy. ‘You’re making my stomach ache.’
‘Hair of the dog that bit you. I keep saying that’s what you need.’
‘Only the dog didn’t just bite me, did it? It chomped, and then vomited me back up. I think it might’ve also infected me with rabies.’
‘Drama llama. You need to drink more often,’ replies Nat. ‘Build up resilience.’
‘I don’t want resilience. I’m supposed to know my limits. I’m a—a grown-up, for flips sakes.’
‘What sort of a grown-up can’t handle her drink?’ scoffs Nat.
‘Well, come in,’ Ivy says, stretching out one pale arm and waving it weakly.
I realise I have the door handle in my hand. I wasn’t expecting them to be awake—it’s still dark out. No sane person should be awake this early on a Sunday morning, but I suppose neither of this pair is strictly sane.God, I’m so tired. I feel like I haven’t slept a wink. As well as being screwed to the point of insensibility most of last night, while I’d lain awake waiting for Rory to fall asleep, I’d been sure of three things.
One: I’d be leaving before he woke to avoid the inevitable nature of a daylight meeting, having already established he’d be in the village for only a few days.
Two: That I’d be off the village streets before the kirk bells rang for the early Sunday service. There’s no way I was doing the walk of shame past anyone on their way to converse with the Almighty.
Three: I’d be tucked up in bed before Ivy woke, thus avoiding necessary explanation of my bare legs, along with the suspect staining on my four-hundred-dollar skirt. From then on in, I was expecting her to be too annoyed to speak to me for the rest of the day.
Instead, I’ve got thehow-good-was-the-de-briefingdebrief committee.
I can’t catch a break.
‘Is that actual... fuck-muck you have on the back of your skirt?’
I didn’t think it would be possible for Natasha to sound as gloaty as she does right now.
‘Eww,’ groans Ivy. ‘That’s so gross. You,’ she adds, pointing at Nat, ‘are so wrong. It’s not...’ The question hangs in the air, unfinished, her face a picture of disgust.
‘Of course it’s not,’ I reply, turning once the door is closed.I sat on a yoghurt carton? No, say nothing—nothing at all. I wasn’t myself last night, so I don’t need an excuse.The choice of seating is limited, so I perch my butt on the opposite end of the sofa to Ivy.Please forgive me for exposing the sofa’s upholstery to hook-up sperm. But better on my clothes than in, you know...‘You’re looking all chipper this morning.’
Natasha gives a short shrug. ‘I never get a hangover. I can handle my drink. It’s true,’ she adds, taking in my eyebrow-less expression. They’re there, just hiding in my hairline. ‘The pair of you just assume I’m some kind of raging party animal. I’m not. And I don’t ever hook-up drunk. I might end up with a troll. Besides, drunk fucking is only half the fun.’
‘Oh.’ As far as replies go, this one is exceedingly lame. Last night might not have been a drunken one-night stand, but by some people’s standards, it was definitely shady.
‘Anyway, last night I was all about making sure my girlies had fun.’
‘Fun...’ Ivy groans, clutching the pillow to the sides of her head. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun before and I don’t think I want to ever again.’
‘What about that time you told me about, when that movie star, what’s his name again? You know, the one that’s always smashing paparazzi cameras?’
‘This is something I’ve never heard,’ I say, my gaze sliding along the sofa to Ivy’s panic stricken one. If it’s possible, she seems to turn a darker shade of green, maybe due to the rate she’s shaking her head. Her reactions are a great distraction, not to mention a bit of a balm. It’s good to hear about her questionable decisions instead of mine.
