‘Nothing happened,’ she says quietly. ‘I just couldn’t go through with it.’
‘But he didn’t . . . He didn’t give you a hard time or anything, did he?’
A range of emotions flitter across her face. ‘No. Well, once it became clear he wasn’t going to be able to give me any kind ofhard, he gave up. Stopped.’
‘Stopped what?’
‘Stopped trying. Stopped caring. Went back to killing shit on his PlayStation.’
‘God, you should’ve called me,’ I say, reaching out and covering her hand with mine.
‘Why? You’d had just as much to drink as I had. You were just much more sensible. Besides, you were probably tucked up in bed, fast asleep. Or passed out on top of it.’ She shoots me a teasing smile.
‘I hadn’t had that much to drink.’ I was drunk on other things. ‘But yeah, I went to bed pretty soon after I got the cat back.’ I press my lips together because I’m not going to tell her I didn’t get into bed alone. But whether due to bad timing or the prospect of being a bad influence, I’m not sure.
‘I can’t believe you crawled in through a dog door.’
‘I didn’t.’ I got stuck. ‘Need to. I just grabbed him.’ Grabbed him. Rolled on top of him. Rode him. Oh, the fun that was had...
Obviously, not with the cat. Though I did have to chase one of the haughty voyeurs out of the bedroom at one point. It was a bit off-putting to be watched, especially by something that was so uninterested, it broke off watching halfway to clean its own bum hole.
I put a hand to my heating cheek as Heather carries on.
‘Well, you were definitely more sensible than me because I ended up spending almost my whole week’s wage on a taxi back home. And I had to give Danny twenty quid not to tell Mum I was home the next day.’
‘What? Why?’
‘The little rat caught me creeping out to creep back in. I was supposed to be going home with you, so I had to sneak in to sleep in my own bed, then sneak out in order to make my official entrance. You know what they’re like. They would’ve had a million questions, and I’d have had to throw you under the bus and said we’d had an argument or something. And then they would’ve called you, and they would’ve been all “hey man, let’s all be groovy friends” thing.’ She affects an accent and makes the air quotes.
‘They’re not that bad,’ I say with a giggle.
‘You don’t have to live with them. They’re too young to be hippies, but it doesn’t stop them with that whole free love thing. It wouldn’t be too bad if they just confined their loving to their bedroom.’
‘Free? Oh my God, Heather. Your parents arenotswingers, are they?’
‘No. Ew, no! They screw like bunnies, though. And they don’t hide it. It’s no wonder they have seven kids.’
‘I think it’s lovely that they’re still in love.’
‘Yes, agreed. If only they’d just stop expressing it so freely in the communal parts of the home. Anyway, I’m still broke because of that useless little scrotal component. He’s blackmailing me.’
‘Is he? Still?’
‘It’s not funny. He’s a little wanker.’
‘That’s no way to speak about your little brother.’ Sometimes, I forget she’s only nineteen. ‘You could’ve told them the truth.’
‘I would rather take a vow of silence than discuss my sex life with either of them,’ she answers gravely. ‘And you know I do love to talk. Besides, they’d ask questions they wouldn’t like the answers to. So I snuck out to sneak back in. If only I could’ve remembered the address of the place where you’re staying.’
Her turning up that night would’ve been awkward—for all three of us.
‘I’m pleased Louisa had left home before I was sneaking around to hang out with boys.’ My older sister, Louisa, lives in the permanently sunny city of Sydney on the other side of the world. It’s funny, but Heather has three older brothers too. None of them lives at home, but I can’t imagine they’d have been happy to stay silent for the sake of a few pounds. Big brothers are supposed to be very protective, so I understand.
She snorts unhappily. ‘It doesn’t matter. You and Louisa get on far too well to extort money out of each other. Besides, you’re too sensible to go traipsing to the other side of London full of cocktails.’
If only she knew. Scratch that, I’m glad she doesn’t. I know she was all for it, making hot neighbour dude my rebound, but she’s too young to understand. Although she seems to have a handle on regret. Not that I regret that night. I regret how it ended, but that isn’t on me. It was good while it lasted, even if it has reawakened that need in me for human contact. Christ, how can it be I miss that skank Tamara more than I miss Cameron? The weirdest thing is, she’d understand how I feel. She’d probably throw her arm around me and say fuck him—fuck the dude for skipping out on me while I was asleep and fuck Cameron for being a lying prick.
But then again, she took care of the last one for me.
