The Plus One Pact

by MacIntosh, Portia

  I quickly and quietly locate my clothes, hurry them on and then make my way to the front of the bus. I find the driver sitting in the downstairs living area, drinking a coffee and reading a newspaper.

  ‘Morning,’ he says. ‘Good night?’

  ‘Great,’ I reply. ‘Just delicate today. Think I overdid it last night.’

  I massage my temples, as though it’s going to do anything to chill my hangover, but it’s my only option until I find some painkillers.

  ‘Getting off?’ he asks.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Are you wanting to go?’

  ‘Oh, yes, please,’ I say. God knows what I thought he meant.

  The driver lets me off the bus. It’s so bright outside – the summer sun is beaming already – causing me to shield my eyes while they adjust to the light. It takes me a few seconds to figure out where I am.

  It turns out we’re in a car park just off The Headrow. Leeds isn’t a massive city but the walk from The Headrow to the docks, where Millsy’s flat is, is about twenty minutes. Twenty-five if I stop to grab a takeaway coffee along the way, which might go some of the way to calming down the demon playing the drums in my head right now.

  Walking through the city at this time in the morning, practically wading through all the mess everyone left last night, offers a unique glimpse into city life. During the day such a gorgeous stretch, usually overflowing with people, alive with chatter, buskers, magicians – even the preachers with megaphones telling the world how we’re all going to die – give it character. Right now the street is the deadest I have ever seen it. The only noise I can hear is from the road sweeper, making his way up and down a road that is covered with empty bottles, litter from takeaways, a whole host of bodily fluids. It’s unbelievable how much carnage people leave in their wake after a night out. I can even see some drips of blood on the floor next to a discarded, seemingly untouched kebab. I’ll bet that’s a story. I suppose we take for granted the people who are up at the crack of dawn to get rid of all traces of Friday night, so that by the time we’re all ready to kick off our Saturday, the streets are clean.

  There’s something really satisfying about watching the road sweeper. The machine itself drives along so slowly but the brushes move so fast they look blurry – unless that’s just my eyes. I like the way it ploughs through the mess, leaving a perfect trail of clean behind it, as if the mess never happened. That’s what I need right now: a road sweeper to just plough into me. Not to take me out, things aren’t that bad, just to clean up the mess I seem to have made for myself. I guess I was right when I was making my excuses to Millsy earlier. It’s definitely going to take more than a quick brush to clean up this mess.

  28

  You don’t have to travel too far outside Leeds to find Kirkstall Abbey, a ruined Cistercian monastery. Sitting in a park on the edge of the River Aire, the abbey ruins stand tall. You can spot the highest-standing part peeking out above the trees from a distance – I always look out for it from the train, on the other side of the river, when I travel to and from visiting my parents.

  It may be ruined but it is one of the most complete examples of a Cistercian abbey in Britain. So much of the structure is still standing, and it’s situated in so much greenery, it’s a must-visit if you’re in the area. It’s used for all kinds of public events – fairs, outdoor concerts, outdoor cinemas. Today it was used for Ruby and Nick’s wedding ceremony. Yes, she’s got married in the abbey ruins, and it was romantic and yet so dark and gothic.

  I met Millsy there. We were supposed to travel there together but my fake hair emergency lasted for ‘longer than expected’. I knew that I was going to have to see him eventually, if I still planned on going to the wedding with him – well, I wasn’t going to back out last minute, was I? – but I still just wanted to leave things as long as possible, hoping my brain would find some peace somewhere and things wouldn’t be awkward. Obviously, with him being part of the wedding, we didn’t get to chat for long before it was time for me to take my seat with the rest of the guests, but that’s exactly what I wanted. No time to ourselves means no time to have serious conversations.

  ‘Did you get your hair sorted OK?’ he asked me. ‘It’s looking great.’

  ‘I did, thanks,’ I replied, a little stiffer than I intended. Look, I’m sorry, but I’m not exactly fighting the fellas off with a stick, am I? I don't know how to play these games.

  ‘You look amazing, honestly,’ he continued. ‘You’ve really made this new look your own. I don't even think we should call it a new look any more, I think it’s just you.’

  I awkwardly attempted to smile, nod and – for some completely bizarre reason – salute Millsy in response to this lovely compliment, which baffled him even more than it did me. I was so relieved when we were interrupted by Ruby’s mum, to say the ceremony was starting, and after that it was straight on to the photos before an open-top bus dropped us at the hotel where the reception was taking place.

  Flash forward to now and we’re at the ultra-modern Mode hotel sitting at tables underneath a marquee in the large grounds that surround it. Tables have been set up around their bizarre feature fountain made up of fish spraying water from their mouths. One thing I hadn’t really considered was that, with Millsy being the bridesmale/male of honour, he would be sitting at the top table with Ruby and her family. This means that I, as Millsy’s plus one, have been seated at a table with Rod and Mhairi. I am so, so thankful that Jay wasn’t ever invited. To be honest, not sitting with Millsy is suiting me just fine today, I’m doing everything I can think of to avoid him. The only time I can feel even close to relaxed is when everyone is forced to sit in their seats, either when we were eating before or now, while the speeches are going on.

  Ruby's dad is currently giving his speech. It's so sweet and moving. I do wonder, if I got married, what my dad would say about me.

  ‘Anyway,’ he continues, ‘I don’t think I could ask for a better man than Nick to take care of my little girl, so, if you’ll join me in making a toast…’

  His best man was one-half of one of his and Ruby’s couple friends and his speech confirmed what Millsy had predicted: that Nick’s stag do would be incredibly tame. Apparently they went to the cinema, to the pub and then home to bed. I like that though; I think that’s the way it should be. I hear so many horror stories about men on stag dos.

  With Millsy being the male of honour, Ruby has asked him to make a speech too. I know that he’s been working on it for a while, but I have no idea what it says. I’ve noticed that he doesn’t like to run things by people, he prefers to surprise them.

  As the microphone is handed to Millsy I notice that he is the only person who starts their speech without a nervous wobble in their voice or a crumpled-up piece of paper in their shaky hand. I suppose, because he’s an actor, learning his speech is no different from learning lines, and delivering it is basically just performing.

  He looks incredible in his suit, but I already knew that, after getting a sneak peek when he tried it on. Somehow it looks even better today though. I suppose it’s because he’s got his hair neatly slicked back, and the biggest smile on his face, that just makes him look so good.

  ‘Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,’ Millsy starts. ‘I’m Joe, although I’m sure most of you know me as “Millsy”. I’m actually Ruby’s chief bridesmaid – her only bridesmaid, in fact. Basically just because she couldn’t get any of the other girls to like her during high school. It’s fine though, neither could I.’

  Everyone in the room laughs. Everyone apart from Nick’s best man, who looks a little bit irritated that Millsy also gets to make a best-man-style speech, and so far it’s seeming as though his is going to be way funnier.

  ‘But really though,’ Millsy continues as soon as the chuckles have died down, ‘Ruby actually had trouble finding someone to give a speech about her today. Naturally she asked her funniest friend first – they said no. She asked her most charming friend – they said no
. She asked her best-looking friend – they said no. Eventually Ruby called me up and asked me to do it… and I figured, after already turning her down three times, I should probably say yes.’

  Laughter again. You can tell that he’s a performer; he’s got the room eating out of his hand, even with his naff best-man jokes.

  ‘You’re supposed to tell jokes like these when you do these speeches, aren’t you? Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you but that’s the last one. Instead of taking the mick out of my friends, I want to talk about how they got together. So, I don’t know how much you know about the history of Ruby and Nick – I don’t know how much is public knowledge – but I do know all’s well that ends well, so I’m sure they won’t mind me telling you. They actually lived together as flatmates, before they were a couple, and they absolutely hated each other. I mean, it made perfect sense to me. They were polar opposites. Nick was this sensible doctor, tidy, quiet, spending his evening learning how to turn lentils into mince for his vegan girlfriend who, I think it’s safe to say, we all hated deep down. Ruby was this wild child. Messy, always late for work, always drunk or hungover. They had nothing in common – barely a kind word to say to each other – and yet here we are. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from their story, it’s that we’re all taught that we need to find the perfect person for us, someone we have everything in common with, someone who is exactly like us. But, Ruby, Nick, you’ve proven that that just isn't true. Real love is wherever you find it, wherever you make it. I think if we can all remember that – that it's OK to love people even if they don’t fit the mould of the person we think we’re supposed to be with – then we’re all going to be a lot happier, and we’re going to have a lot more love in our lives, so, if you’d like to join me in toasting the happy couple, for the last time, I promise, then you can stop trying to conserve your Prosecco and knock it back, like I can tell you’re all dying to do… To Ruby and Nick.’

  ‘Ruby and Nick,’ everyone echoes.

  I sip my drink along with everyone else but there’s something on my mind. Millsy’s speech… If we were to take what he just said and apply it to our relationship… is he saying that real love is made of something more than shared interests? Is that how he defines relationships, and why he sees me as just a friend, and why he has done all this time until, what, he was drunk enough to sleep with me and I basically threw myself at him. His speech, which has somehow touched the hearts of everyone else, feels more like a poke in the eye to me.

  Now that the speeches are over, people are leaving the confines of their tables, gathering at the seats out in the sunshine, hanging around the bar, lingering around the dance floor, waiting for the music. It’s only now, after hours of hardly speaking to each other, that Millsy has time to sit and chat to me.

  ‘Weddings are exhausting,’ he says, plonking himself down next to me. ‘Remind me to never do all of this when I get married.’

  My initial reaction is to think that this is him making a marked effort to talk about his own wedding in a way that points out that I won’t be there, but I’m feeling so anxious after his speech that it could just be me, making things into something bigger than they are.

  ‘You OK?’ he asks. ‘You seem quiet.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I insist. ‘Just tired.’

  ‘Me too,’ he says with a smile. ‘Hey, can you keep a secret?’

  ‘Sure,’ I reply.

  ‘This is Ruby’s day, so I’m not going to tell anyone else, but I’ve been called for an audition. I got the call this morning just after you left. My agent has been working on something for a while… There’s this part, in one of those big comic-book superhero movies – a villain, who they think I’ll be perfect for. My agent thinks the gig is basically mine and, get this, just in case you’re thinking what I was thinking, because I did wonder if they only wanted me for my arse, but you’re not even going to see my arse – I’m not even going to have an arse. The character is some alien thing, it’s all mocap.’

  ‘Millsy, that’s amazing,’ I tell him. ‘That’s so cool. I’m so happy for you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he says with a cute smile, flashing me his dimples. ‘The only downside – that is not even remotely a downside – is that I have to fly to LA tomorrow.’

  ‘So soon?’

  ‘Yes. And I was wondering if you might want to come with me, keep me company, have some fun while we’re over there…’

  As Millsy says this he smiles and strokes my hand, and I don’t know if it’s because he seems so sure I’ll sleep with him again, or if it’s just because I want to, but I quickly snatch it away.

  His smile drops from his face, his dimples vanishing as quickly as his mood shifts.

  ‘We’ll be back in time for Flora’s wedding,’ he quickly adds. ‘And I know your ex is arriving at your mum and dad’s a few days before. I thought you’d be happy to get away.’

  ‘I think perhaps you should go on your own,’ I tell him rather blankly. I’m trying to keep my words as empty as possible, because I really don’t want to get into this now, but that in itself causes alarm bells for Millsy.

  ‘Erm, OK,’ he replies. ‘Is this about last night?’

  I don’t say anything.

  ‘It’s not a big deal,’ he starts, but I don’t let him finish. It’s not up to him to decide what is and isn’t a big deal.

  ‘Of course it’s a big deal,’ I reply. ‘It might just be sex to you, but I’m not cut out for stuff like this.’

  ‘Cara, come on,’ he says, trying to take my hand again, but I won’t let him. ‘This is the last thing I wanted.’

  I get that this sort of thing is much easier for him than it is for me, but, as it turns out, I can’t just have sex with people. It would be great if I could, but I can’t. The only thing last night did for me was allow me to realise that I want to be more than friends with Millsy, and if I go to LA with him, if I have sex with him again, I will fall in love with him. I know where this road is taking me but, by the time I get there, I’m almost certain he’ll be somewhere else. Sex might be no big deal to him, but to me it isn’t just a bit of fun between two adults, it’s the confirmation that I’m falling for him. If I don’t hit the brakes, I’m going to get hurt.

  ‘Last night was clearly a mistake,’ I tell him, my voice crackling a little. ‘We both know it was.’

  ‘Is that really what you think?’ he asks.

  I find myself getting lost in Millsy's big brown puppy-dog eyes. It hurts me to be so blunt with him, but I’ve got to.

  ‘It’s true, right? You’re always saying how you don’t like complicated.’

  ‘I don’t, but—’

  Oh, God, why is this so hard? And why do I feel as if I’m making it worse? I’m trying to kill my romantic feelings to save our friendship but, in doing do, I’m just making things even more awkward. I need to stop. To try and figure things out. I definitely don’t need to be making a scene at someone’s wedding.

  ‘I’m going to go,’ I say.

  ‘Cara…’

  ‘Can we just, can we have a bit of space? You go to LA, don’t worry about me, nail your audition and then we’ll talk when you get back?’

  ‘Is that really what you want?’ he asks.

  ‘It really is,’ I tell him. ‘I just can’t believe what a mess we’ve made. I wish it hadn’t happened.’

  ‘OK,’ he says. ‘OK, sure. It doesn’t need to be messy, if you don’t want it to be. I’ll be back in a few days.’

  ‘I think I might go stay with my mum and dad, at least until after Flora’s wedding. I’m sure there will be lots of stuff going on, so…’

  The words leave my lips before I’ve really thought about how they sound. I just want us to take a breather to figure out what is going on. That’s not going to happen if we’re around each other, having sex again, which, even in all this stress, I still kind of can’t stop thinking about, because last night… oh my God.

  I’m just trying to do the mature, sensible th
ing. To protect myself. To not get hurt. If there is one thing I’ve realised since Lloyd and I broke up it’s that I spent way too long thinking that things were going to get better, that Lloyd might be my happy ever after. And ever since I’ve given every date the benefit of the doubt, given them the chance to be the right person for me, and they’ve all, always, been so, so wrong for me. Being hopeful is one thing, but perhaps what I need more than anything is less hope and more rational consideration. It would be great to assume I’d found my Prince Charming in Millsy but what if that didn’t last either, and came at the cost of the best friendship I’ve ever had?

  Millsy nods thoughtfully as he takes the hint.

  ‘OK, see you around,’ he says as he jumps to his feet. On that note, he walks off.

  I feel terrible but I’m just doing what I think is best. There’s no way he wants to be in a relationship with me, not a real one, but my genie is out of the bottle now, so to speak. I can’t pretend I don’t have feelings for him. I can’t watch him flirting with people at weddings. I can’t bump into his exes with him. I can’t hear all the little jokes people make about how many girls he’s been with. It’s just too hard.

  I gather my things and head for the door, booking my taxi as I go. I know that I should say goodbye to people but I can’t bear the thought of having to explain why I’m leaving early. More than anything I feel as if I’m going to burst into tears at any second and I really don’t want anyone to see me cry. I can’t believe what a mess I’ve made of all this. It’s all because of sex. Stupid, stupid sex. I was right before, when I said that all the best relationships were sexless. I couldn’t just be happy being friends with Millsy, I had to reach for more. And, in doing so, I’ve probably ruined everything.