The Spare Bedroom: A totally heartwarming, funny and feel good romantic comedy

by Elizabeth Neep

  ‘I’ll probably just put myself up in a hotel or something,’ I said, as if putting myself up in hotels was an everyday occurrence in the life of young professional Jess.

  ‘Will your work cover it?’ Sam pressed me further. Highly, highly unlikely, Sam, seeing as Art Today Australia don’t even know I work for them. I shook my head, as his eyes searched the room around us. I knew that face. Problem-solving Sam. Dissecting my decision, finding a better cure. ‘We could put you up in our spare bedroom for a bit?’ Sam said, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

  They had a spare bedroom? I’d spent the last few weeks on a third of a double bed and Sam and his surfer had three bedrooms? For just a moment I felt vindicated. Sam could never know the truth about me or my life since he stopped being a part of it. ‘We really wouldn’t mind.’ He smiled his gorgeous smile. It hit me in my stomach. Why was he being so nice? The last time we saw each other definitely wasn’t nice. But I guess that was a long time ago; maybe now things could be different. Sam’s arm reached out to touch me again, sending tingles down my arm and up my legs. My body softened to his, every inch of mine remembering his so well.

  ‘No, I couldn’t.’

  Finally, something truthful fell from my mouth.

  I couldn’t. Move in with my ex? It would drive me insane. More insane. Sam had broken me, broken everything. I couldn’t let him do that again. I looked at him, his face displaying the kind of smile you reserved for best, his eyes alight with promise as if to say: I can fix this, let me fix this. I had waited so long for him to fix it, even longer to be over him. How was living in the next room going to help? Unless, maybe he didn’t want me to get over him, perhaps he’d prefer me under…

  ‘Sure, you can, we wouldn’t mind a bit,’ Sam repeated, his eyes darting again to the photo. ‘Jamie’s a doctor too. We’ll be on shift all the time; the house will be pretty much empty. You can just spend a few days here using our Internet, preparing for your job.’

  Was I a love interest or a charity case? I still couldn’t tell. I stood up and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked like the latter. In any case, was I really in a position to argue? Where else would I go? I had a couple of weeks, tops, to get a job and save enough rent to get my own place. How was living out of a rucksack in an overpriced hostel dorm-room going to help me achieve either of those things? And I couldn’t call my parents and ask them for money and have them think my plan had failed, again. Wasn’t it better to stay in the artisan apartment of two young professionals? Maybe some of their ‘settled’ would rub off on me. And anyway, what was the worst that could happen?

  Actually, I knew the worst that could happen. I’d either get drunk and try to make Sam jealous by coming on to his hot doctor housemate who’d then politely ask Sam to kick the crazy girl out. Or there was the teeny tiny chance I’d fall even more madly, obsessively, unworkably in love with my ex-boyfriend. Unless, perhaps, we wouldn’t be so impossible on the other side of the world? We were different now, both older; he was wiser. But no, this was my fresh start, and I’d already made an absolute cock-up of that. Not that Sam knew. And I had every intention of keeping it that way.

  ‘Sam, I can’t,’ I objected.

  ‘Of course you can, Jess,’ Sam said. ‘Remember how much fun we used to have?’ Remember? I’d spent the last three years trying to forget.

  ‘Wouldn’t that be a bit, well, strange?’ I tried my best to argue but could feel my resolve sliding away.

  ‘Not as strange as bumping into you on the other side of the world.’ He laughed. He was right. Maybe the strangest thing was to let this moment slip away to nothing?

  ‘Just for a couple of days,’ I said, hope and trepidation wrestling in my stomach as I allowed myself to sink back into the sofa.

  ‘I’ll give you a week, J – tops.’ He winked again, confident, infectious. For a moment I could feel excitement flooding out my nightmare of bed-shares and bunkbeds. Now I’d be dreaming just a door away from his. For now at least. My heart hammered at the thought. And I could save some money, just while I found a job. A real job.

  ‘Only if you’re sure,’ I added.

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘Thank you so much.’ I couldn’t help but throw my arms around him, his body melting into mine as the disappointments of the last few weeks started to fade away. ‘Just a week,’ I confirmed into Sam’s shoulder. One week. One week to fulfil every lie covering my not-so-successful Sydney life before Sam could find out what a false start my twenties were proving to be. But for now, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, things were finally starting to look up.

  12 September 2012 – Nottingham, England

  ‘Look, Jess. Oh shit, he’s coming over.’ Zoe looked up from her glass of wine to the broad torso of a man walking across the bar towards us. She smoothed down her black, long-sleeved silk top with a plunging neckline that left little to the imagination.

  ‘And what am I supposed to do? Just sit here and make small talk with the best friend?’ I looked up from picking the final bits of paint out from underneath my chipped nail polish. It was midnight and I was hungover and halfway through fleshing out the rolling pencil lines that had mapped out my latest landscape.

  ‘Just five minutes.’ Zoe’s eyes pleaded with me, looking from me to the man approaching, brimming with possibilities.

  ‘Can we join you?’ The man looked down at our table, very much at Zoe, very much alone. Zoe shrugged. In reality, she’d clocked him the second we’d walked into the bar: the only face looking our way against a backdrop of broad swim-team members drinking and laughing in the opposite direction.

  ‘We?’ Zoe asked, looking her poor victim up and down as he slid into the booth beside me. Great, now I was trapped. Zoe’s made-up eyes darted to mine: five minutes, I swear.

  ‘Yes, we.’ The guy spoke in an unmistakable American drawl adding colour to his tone. ‘I’m Austin.’ He smiled, as if his accent wasn’t enough to place him. ‘And this is…’ He looked up towards the figure approaching.

  ‘Sam.’ I couldn’t help but smile as he slid into the space next to Zoe.

  ‘Jess!’ He grinned across at me, pushing a hand through his thick, brown hair.

  ‘Zoe.’ She threw her own name into the mix, while I tried to warn her with my eyes: you already know him. He lives down the hall. He’s carried you home. He’s seen your pants.

  Sam laughed, sending me a mischievous look: our first private joke.

  ‘You know each other?’ Zoe looked from Sam to me, trying and failing to make sense of us.

  ‘Just a little.’ Sam replied. ‘I’m living at Holymoor Halls too.’

  ‘Amazing, and Austin are you—’

  ‘Have you sent it off yet?’ Sam spoke across the table, our conversation criss-crossing Zoe and Austin’s before they made their way to the bar and Sam came to sit next to me. Five more minutes – Zoe motioned across the room with her free hand, her other now laced in Austin’s. I shrugged and smiled, looking back at Sam, now off the clock.

  ‘Not yet. It’s very competitive, though,’ I said, looking to his earnest eyes, his encouragement making it harder to find reasons to not send off my application, to not throw my hat into the ring.

  ‘That’s what people said about medicine, but they still let me in to study it,’ Sam joked. He had a way of making competition and decisions and, well, life, look easy. No doubt a symptom of privilege, but one I was pretty sure I wouldn’t mind infecting me.

  ‘You’ll make a good doctor.’ I couldn’t help but look down at his hands, big and strong.

  He looked down at his beer, studying its froth. ‘It was the only option really.’

  I searched his smile, not sure why his options were so limited. Unshakable pressure? Undeniable calling?

  ‘Not as cool as art, though.’ He lifted his pint to his lips, taking another swig. I did the same, feeling the rush of intoxication soothe the places where my hangover still lingered.

  ‘Oh, I don’t kn
ow.’ I put my hand down by my side, accidentally touching his, electricity amalgamating with the alcohol. ‘I know which of us would be more helpful in a crisis. Quick! Is there an artist in the house?’

  ‘Art therapy can save lives, you know!’ He laughed, putting his hand on top of mine, nothing accidental about it. I looked from Zoe and Austin, now entwined at the bar, to my and Sam’s hands interlaced on the table, not knowing why our connection felt more intimate. Perhaps the promise of something longer than five more minutes. ‘Maybe you can teach me how to draw sometime?’ He turned his face towards me, inches from mine.

  ‘Maybe, if you buy me a drink.’ I scanned his face, from his eyes to his nose and down to his neck, not knowing why or how he was making me feel so sure.

  ‘Deal.’ He grinned, letting go of my hand, now bonded by the possibility of more.

  Chapter 3

  1 August 2020 – Sydney, Australia

  ‘Deal?’ Sam asked, as I sat motionless, torn between not knowing if I should stay and definitely not wanting to go. ‘Stay in our spare bedroom for a couple of nights, a week, tops?’ He had a way of making it sound like the most natural thing in the world.

  ‘And you’re sure your housemate won’t mind?’ I asked again, not knowing which answer I’d prefer, whether he was a step away from or towards where I was meant to be. But we were here, now – that had to count for something. Sam hesitated for a moment. I knew he hadn’t asked him; he hadn’t broken away for a second to look at his phone.

  ‘Jamie loves having guests.’ He nodded, as if convincing himself that this would all be okay. I saw his steady shoulders jump for a second at the sound of a key turning in the door. ‘Ah, now you can ask Jamie yourself!’ He recovered his smile, forcing it from ear to ear. I sat back down on the sofa, grabbing one of the large cushions to hide my atrocious attire; if only I could find a blanket to cover my face. Sam’s friends were always fit. Gorgeous doctors tended to attract gorgeous doctors; it was an epidemic. Looking towards the archway into the room, the surfer guy from the photo materialised before me. Six foot something, his height only magnified by his skinny black jeans. My eyes followed his legs upwards to a torso you could tell was toned even through his T-shirt, past his tanned arms and further still to a bearded face, thicker than Sam’s own shadowy jaw, perfectly framed by a floppy wet fringe.

  ‘Dude, the surf was great,’ Jamie began in a thick Australian accent, cradling a damp wetsuit in his hands, before noticing me on the sofa. ‘Oh.’ He stopped, affronted. I looked down at my clothes and held the cushion more tightly.

  ‘You must be Jamie,’ I said. Sam was now standing, his head turned away. Jamie stood still for a moment, wetsuit still in hands, a curious expression on his face. For a moment, the intensity of his dark stare stole what was left of my sanity before his warm laugh shocked me back into the room. I felt my cheeks flush pink; what had I said?

  ‘Man, I’m flattered.’ He laughed again, casting a confused look at Sam. What was going on? ‘Sorry to disappoint you…’ His face creased into a smile, whiter against his tanned skin. ‘…but Jamie is far more exciting than me.’ He shook his head, glancing back at a silent Sam. Were they going to let me in on the joke? ‘And you are?’ He looked from me to Sam again, neither of us quite sure why he wasn’t saying more. Clearly, we all had questions. So, there were three of them here? Please tell me this ‘spare’ bedroom wasn’t another bloody bedshare. Unless maybe… I looked at Sam. Was that why he looked so sheepish all of a sudden? He was hoping for a bit longer, alone together, for the sleeping arrangements to kind of just work themselves out?

  ‘I’m Jess,’ I stuttered, as not-Jamie’s eyes widened in something like recognition as he began spreading his wetsuit taut across the kitchen table.

  ‘Joshua.’ He came across to offer me his hand. ‘Sorry, it’s still a little wet.’

  ‘So am I…’ I looked down at my outfit before I rushed to add, ‘…from the rain.’ Joshua started to laugh again, as we heard another key turn in the front door.

  ‘Sounds like Jamie’s back too.’ Joshua moved back across the room, leaving me to try and hide my shabbiness from suitor number three. I followed their gaze towards the doorway just as a five-foot eight, perfectly tanned, impeccably toned, Lycra-cladded blonde swanned effortlessly into the space between us. The real Jamie looked from me to Sam and back again, perfect smile not once fading from her flawless face. ‘Hey, Bub.’ She said to Sam, who was now standing in the little kitchenette with Joshua, physically and metaphorically distancing himself from me. I tried to catch his eye again but all of his attention was on her. Who was she? Joshua’s girlfriend? Was that how she and Sam had met? The Malbec in my hand began to feel less inviting, along with Sam’s earlier invitation. I looked at him, willing him to make the necessary – so very necessary – introductions for the second time that afternoon.

  ‘Hey, Bubby,’ Sam replied, casting a guilty look in my direction. What was happening?

  Bub? Bubby? My eyes darted between them. Maybe it was an Australian thing?

  ‘Hey, Bub.’ I tried to smile sweetly at Jamie, before hearing Joshua stifle a laugh. At least one person was finding this situation funny. I fixed my eyes on Sam, willing him to explain.

  ‘Jamie, this is Jess,’ Sam explained to the Victoria’s Secret model before us, her eyes narrowing for a split second before becoming large and sparkly again. I fixed my eyes on Sam, still willing him to explain, but this time to me. ‘Jess and I were…’ Sam turned to me, his eyes suddenly struggling to meet mine. I prepared myself for what he might say, doubtful that he’d settle on a clear-cut status given that so much was still left unsaid. ‘…we were good friends at university, and I just bumped into her at the shops, can you believe it?’ Sam said with a well-meaning enthusiasm, one that hadn’t seemed strained before. Good friends. Good friends? Of all the ways I thought he’d buy us some time to work out where we were at now – over twenty-thousand hours and twenty-thousand miles since we’d left things – I didn’t think good friends would be it. But what were he and Jamie? Were they good friends too?

  ‘Oh well, honey,’ Jamie began in an accent that sounded like honey. ‘You must stay for dinner!’ She beamed her pearly whites at me as I wished I could shield my eyes.

  Dinner? I’d just agreed to stay for a week. Sam had said this would be okay. Why wasn’t he making things feel okay now?

  ‘Joshua, can you stay too?’ Real Jamie tuned to Fake Jamie as I tried to make sense of their dynamic, of Sam’s new friends, a new life unfolding before me. Joshua smiled back at her, eyes full of admiration, a flirtation I all of a sudden wanted to fan into flames. They were together, right? That was the most likely explanation?

  ‘No, sorry. Gotta dash actually,’ Joshua replied, turning towards the door as my heart beat faster. Kiss her, just kiss her. I willed the two of them together. Instead, Joshua swivelled to face me again, locking eyes with mine – a glimmer of intrigue filling them as I forced myself not to look away. I studied their colour – a blue made all the brighter against his burnt olive skin.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Jess. I told you she was more exciting than me,’ he said and winked. Yes, but no one told me she was a woman. No one is telling me what she’s doing here now. I offered him a weak smile in return, which I willed to become stronger, sure that Joshua had just seen something like fear in my eyes.

  ‘Hopefully, I’ll see a little bit more of you…’ Joshua said, smiling again and making his way towards the door into the kitchenette, ‘…around,’ he added before turning to disappear out of it.

  ‘Dinner?’ Real Jamie, still here, one hand on her skinny hip, repeated her offer.

  ‘Well actually, Bub,’ Sam interjected, an unusual stutter in his voice. ‘Jess has just had her accommodation fall through, I was thinking she could stay in the—’

  ‘Box room. Absolutely, we’ll sort it, no problem.’ Jamie grinned. ‘Sam’s probably told you I love pretending to be the hostess with the mostest.’ She laugh
ed, opening her arms and beckoning me to stand up for an embrace. I hesitated, noticing a squiggly emblem on her thin Lycra top that no doubt indicated it was designer. Jamie duly ignored my hesitation and flung her arms around me. Yes he did mention that, I thought into her shoulder, but he also forgot to mention so many other things about you.

  ‘So, you’ll stay with us for a few days, yes?’

  I looked at her, struggling to hide my confusion. She asked so eagerly I felt like saying no would break her heart. I’d heard Australians were hospitable, but surely this was taking the piss. Something told me she’d never have to pretend to be the perfect host, never have to pretend to be anything. Unlike me. I turned to Sam, shifting from foot to foot, unable to stand still. He was practically begging me to say yes only moments ago. So why did I feel like he was regretting it now? This was okay, right, Sam? Explain everything and make it all okay.

  ‘Only if you’re sure?’ I asked again, inches from her face.

  ‘Any friend of Sam’s is a friend of mine, right, mate?’ She turned to look at Sam, who, try as he might, couldn’t hide his smile. Mate? Oh, they were just housemates. That made sense. I had always thought Sam was gorgeous but this woman was way out of his league, not to mention completely not his type. Maybe this would all be okay. Jamie and I would become friends and she’d take me out around town, and we’d joke about Sam’s annoying little habits and I could find out if he was seeing anyone and…

  ‘I’ll get the box room ready, then, shall I?’ Jamie asked Sam rhetorically as she glided towards the kitchen. The box room? Sam had called it the spare bedroom – and he’d made it sound like it was ready? He’d made it sound like a lot of things.

  ‘Thanks, baby,’ he said. ‘That would be wonderful.’

  Baby. I knew baby; I was baby. Or at least, used to be. Sure enough, Jamie leaned in, pressing her hands on the dining table in the centre of the kitchen, poking her pert bottom just a little further in my direction, before kissing my ex-boyfriend full on the mouth. He tried to hold back – for my benefit, not his own – but softened at her kiss, powerless against it, reaching a hand up to her hair before stopping himself.