“5am?” Vanessa raised her eyebrows, her eyelids drooping slightly. “I’ll be fine,” she said, clearly making an effort not to slur her words. “But I guess we should get going.”
“Come on, party girl,” said Joey.
“It’s lucky you know where I live!” exclaimed Vanessa. “I have literally no idea where I am.” Her slightly lop-sided smile roused something unfamiliar in Joey, a protectiveness she didn’t want to acknowledge.
“Here we go, let’s walk this way,” said Joey.
“So chivalrous,” mumbled Vanessa, who was holding onto Joey’s arm.
“Mmm, I’m not so sure about that,” said Joey, her lips pursed.
“I am. Some people would use this as an opportunity to take advantage, but not you,” she said, squeezing Joey’s arm. “Are your muscles from kneading dough?”
“Probably,” said Joey, grateful for the darkness that hid her blush.
“Why don’t you have a girlfriend, Joey?” Vanessa stopped suddenly and turned to face her, her hand still resting on Joey’s arm. “You’re really nice and beautiful, in a handsome way.” She swayed a little. “Is that ok to say?”
Joey could hear the blood roaring through her veins. No one usually spoke to her like this. “Well, you’ve said it now,” she muttered.
“It’s true, though,” Vanessa continued, bringing her other hand up to Joey’s cheek. “Beautiful. Yes.” Joey wasn’t sure whether Vanessa was speaking to her, or to herself.
Joey could see Vanessa’s dark eyes gazing at her. It felt like the other woman could see right through her, hear her every thought. Vanessa looked relaxed and serene in that moment, and Joey’s eyes were drawn to her full lips and the smoothness of the skin on her neck. She took a breath and then sighed.
“Come on,” said Joey. “We need to get you home. Less talking, more walking.”
Chapter Twelve
VANESSA
Vanessa’s head hurt. So did her eyes. And her throat. And now there was some kind of infernal banging that was assaulting her ears.
She opened one eye. It was still dark. Why was there banging in the middle of the night? She closed her eye again, hoping it would go away.
“Vanessa!” came an insistent yet muffled voice.
Who was shouting at her door? She’d only just gone to sleep, surely! She swung her feet onto the floor and sat up, but when she opened her eyes the room immediately began to swim. Hazy memories of the party came back to her.
“Come on,” said the voice. “If you don’t confirm you’re alive, I’ll break down the door!”
There was a dawning of realisation. That grumpy tone was familiar. It was Joey. Vanessa glanced at her watch. It was 5.15am. She was late. And she was hungover.
Veryhungover.
“I’m coming,” she said, her voice scratchy and uncomfortable. “Give me a minute.”
She pulled on a hoodie, not wanting to answer the door in her bra and knickers, which apparently was what she’d slept in. She didn’t remember going to bed at all.
She wobbled across the apartment to the front door and opened it just enough to see Joey standing with a sardonic grin, freshly showered and fully dressed.
“I’m alive,” said Vanessa, groggily. “Come in. Give me five minutes and I’ll have a quick shower and put some proper clothes on.” She opened the door fully and let the baker in.
Joey’s grin slipped slightly before she crossed the threshold. Vanessa groaned inwardly. She had a feeling she’d embarrassed herself the night before. “I’ll be back in a minute.” She grabbed some clothes and went into the tiny bathroom, locking the door.
“I’ll make some coffee,” called Joey. “I think you need it. I certainly do.”
“You didn’t even drink!” called Vanessa, regretting it immediately since it made her head hurt even more.
She shed her layers and stepped into the shower. She hoped the warm water would somehow cleanse her of the alcohol that felt like it was still surging around her system. She soaped her arms and body, trying to remember what had happened last night.
