Saving from Monkeys

by Star, Jessie L.

  Oh, monkeys.

  ----------

  Back in his flat, Elliot strode immediately across to his filing cabinet and grabbed out the piece of paper Rox had been so close to finding. With her hand poised to pull it out and ruin the reprieve he'd scored himself when he'd discovered she'd blanked out the previous night, he'd panicked. This was unusual for him, he considered himself pretty unflappable, and maybe it was this unfamiliarity with freaking out that had led to what he'd done to distract her. Yeah, he’d thrown his underwear at her, but it’d worked so he refused to feel embarrassed about it.

  In one sharp move he ripped the paper in half, then again, and again and again until all that was left was a little pile of tiny white squares in his palm. Not taking any chances, he went back downstairs and tipped the handful into the skip out the back of the building.

  Yeah, not telling her what had happened last night made him feel like a major creep, but it was better than the alternative. Because when Roxanne Mapley remembered what she'd discovered last night, and he knew with painful surety she eventually would, he was a dead man.

  Chapter 2 – The Posh Conquests and the Ship Already Sailed

  With my arms crossed tightly across my chest both to support my bra-less breasts and cover the inane slogan on Elliot's hoodie, I made my wretched way up the dingy stairs to my room.

  The residential hall building, in all its 70's finery did nothing to lift my spirits and I could barely muster a smile for the couple of people who called out hellos to me. Without Elliot there to distract me with his incredibly irritating ways, I found I was free to sink down into the depths of despair and start to properly hate on myself for what had happened.

  I was a good girl, a virtual teetotaller who 9 times out of 10 substituted a swearword for ‘monkey', so whatever had happened last night had dealt a serious blow to my sense of self. I felt gross, both inside and out.

  I stopped outside the door to the tiny room that Abigail and I shared (its dimensions in no way representative of the exorbitant sum my mum had scraped together to allow me the privilege of living on campus). I'd just realised yet another thing to turn my morning sour. I didn't have my key.

  Obviously recognising that it had let me down in recent times, my brain popped up immediately with the answer to this quandary: knock, and then if Abigail wasn’t home, sink to the floor and have a massive hissy fit. Satisfied with this plan, I raised a hand and pressed my knuckles feebly against the cheap wood door. With the way the rest of the morning had gone, I fully expected there to be no answer, but my pessimism was knocked for six when the door was immediately flung open.

  Abi took one look at me and then, accurately assessing my meltdown level in a way only a true friend could, immediately ushered me inside, shutting the door firmly behind us.

  "Um, Rox, are you OK?" She asked in the tone of one who already knew the answer to the question, but needed to start the ball rolling somewhere. As for me, I threw myself face down on my bed and almost cried in relief at being home and back around familiar, safe things. Yay for the ratty old cream carpet! Hurrah for our ironic print of the Mona Lisa wearing a fedora and smoking a cigar! Three cheers for the girly scents of perfume and moisturiser!

  Sure, Elliot's place was the height of modern sophistication, with all the mod cons and shiny surfaces. Fine, whatever. Abi and I happened to like the massive crack that zig zagged down our wall, thanks very much, and only a true heathen couldn't appreciate that the mould in the corner near the bathroom was beginning to look a bit like a Monet. For me, in terms of comfort and most definitely company, my room prevailed over Elliot's any day of the week and I was so glad to be back within its four, slightly uneven, walls.

  I felt the mattress dip down as I internally waxed lyrical about our shonky accommodation, and then Abigail pulled back some of my manky hair to look in concern down at me.

  "I don't want to be rude, hon," she said, in a way that suggested she was about to be anyway, despite her preference, "but you look for all the world like you just did a walk of shame."

  Never had an expression seemed more appropriate than in that moment. I groaned and grabbed at my pillow, pulling it over my head and bending the sides down to muffle out the world.

  "I did," I said miserably. "A great big, fat, walk of shame. No bra, no socks, no dignity, that's me."

  I felt a tug on the pillow and then Abigail, her husky voice faint through the padding, said, "Come on, Rox, you know it's rude to hold a conversation while trying to suffocate yourself."

  Ever one to conform to etiquette, I lifted myself back up and turned over to face my best mate.

  "Right, here's the thing," I said in a concerted effort to be brisk, "I got raging, black out drunk last night and had sex with Elliot Sinclair." I spoke clearly, enunciating each word as I knew it was something Abi was going to have difficulty in processing even without me mumbling. Sure enough, her eyes widened and her jaw went slack.

  "Three times," I added, wanting to just get the whole, horrible truth out there, but feeling a bit bad as I saw this additional information made Abi's head wobble a little bit like it was going to fall off.

  Several long, awkward seconds passed and then she released her breath in a loud whoosh and flopped down beside me on the bed.

  "Sorry," she said feebly. "I think I passed out for a second there, want to run that by me again?"

  "Don't make me repeat it," I begged, accidentally catching the eye of our Mona Lisa poster and finding that, because of the whole 'her eyes follow you wherever you are' thing, I was unable to break free of her judgemental gaze. "I've already vomited this morning; I really don't want to go there again."

  "OK," Abi said slowly and I finally escaped eye contact with Mona to see her reach up and bury her fingers into her short dark hair. Seeing her manifesting my own freak out was somehow reassuring. "So, just so I've got this straight, you've spent the last two and a bit years I've known you going on about this spoilt rich kid who tormented you all through your adolescence, right? I mean, I've seen this pretty boy make you so mad you literally fell down a flight of stairs. And now you're telling me you slept with him? Why?"

  My ankle throbbed a little at the reminder of the day I'd been so busy ranting about Elliot's stupid floppy hair I hadn't seen the steps rapidly approaching. Chalking that up to yet another part of my body that was currently hurting because of Elliot, I focused on Abi's aghast expression.

  "I have no idea," I answered honestly. "Apparently I drank so much I have completely blotted out last night."

  I shared a silent moment of 'yeah, I know, me getting that drunk. Weird, right?' with her before continuing. "The last thing I can remember is you going off to work yesterday afternoon and then-" I broke off as I suddenly realised something.

  "You're still in your work clothes," I said in confusion, looking more closely and seeing that they were quite considerably rumpled. "Now who looks like they just did a walk of shame? Did you just get home?"

  The vibe in the room abruptly shifted from 'WTF?' to some sort of 'squee' emoticon as a pink blush bloomed across Abi's, Judi Dench-worthy, cheekbones and she nodded.

  "You were out all night?" I pressed even though it hurt to crease my forehead in surprise.

  She nodded again.

  "Alone?"

  Her expression morphed into the sort you'd expect a kid to wear when caught with an empty biscuit wrapper and crumbs around his mouth, and she shook her head.

  "Oh God," I gasped, "not you too?"

  "Yeah, I got in from my own night of debauchery just before you." She smiled a cheeky smile as she added, "Guess something must be in the water."

  "Who knew that one night stands were contagious?" I choked and then, seeing a strange look pass over her face I frowned at how that had sounded. "Gross, not like STIs or anything," I tried to explain, but she put a hand on my arm to forestall me.

  "No, it's not that. It's just…" she trailed off and I noticed for the first time that her eyes were looking su
spiciously starry. "I don't think mine is going to be just a one night stand."

  And, now that she mentioned it, I saw that she was practically glowing. Nice that she'd come out of the previous night looking like she was lit from within by some sort of beatific light, while I ended up tinged a sickly green colour.

  "Oooooh," I said, intrigued and more than happy to have the spotlight taken off me; anything to get that judgemental cow Mona to stop looking at me like I was a slut. "Multiple nights are on the cards? Who is this gentleman who has ensnared you so?"

  Abi bit her lip, but was unable to stop her smile, two little dimples appearing to frame it. I loved these dimples. When coupled with Abi's spiky black hair and deep husky voice they seemed as incongruous as a teddy bear at a rave, but they were spot on because Abi really was Shirley Temple levels of sweet.

  "His name's Joe," she said all in a rush, as if unable to hold the words in anymore. "And, oh my God, Rox, he's so not my type."

  My smile faltered slightly. Huh? "So not your type?" I repeated, wanting to make sure I hadn't misheard.

  "Yeah," she fiddled with the jumble of silver bracelets that always adorned her right wrist, the metallic jangling they made perfectly accompanying her almost manic happiness. "You know how I always go for the dark, brooding, sensitive, artistic types?"

  "Read: narcissistic twerps whose 'art' invariably means they can't be monogamous?" I asked darkly. I'd lost count of how many breakups with these egomaniacs I'd nursed Abigail through. "Yeah, I know."

  "Well, Joe's nothing like that." Abi clasped her pale hands and her voice came out on a sort of a sigh as she finished, "He's a bloodnut, doing engineering and he plays rugby."

  "Ha!" I couldn't help it, I let out a sharp peal of laughter before immediately being glad I was lying down as my head swam at the noise.

  "Even more than that," she smiled, obviously enjoying my response, "he calls it 'rugger' and his eyes fill with tears when he remembers the final try that secured his school the championship."

  I blinked rapidly and, for a moment, I was speechless. Seriously, had I fallen into a parallel universe last night and not noticed? As if it wasn't bad enough that I'd had it off with Elliot, it sounded like Abi had hooked up with a private school knob. We'd spent so much time mocking those types, but now her eyes seemed to be shining, not with amusement, but with fondness.

  "His school rugger team had a song, didn't it?" I asked, pretty sure I already knew the answer.

  "And the words are printed on his heart," she confirmed.

  Woah.

  "So, basically, last night we both went out and slept with the kind of posh boys we've done nothing but ridicule since we met each other?"

  "Seems that way," Abi agreed, but then she let out a whoosh of breath and snatched up the pillow I'd recently put aside. Clinging to it she continued, "Seriously, Rox, he's amazing. He came in to pick up takeaway, but there was like this buzz when we looked at each other and he decided to eat in instead."

  Knowing the restaurant Abi worked at as well as I did, I thought this showed more of a foolhardy disregard for his health rather than demonstrating how 'amazing' he was. Bless her, though, she looked as if he'd cured poverty for her rather than simply demonstrated that his stomach was lead-lined.

  "He kept ordering more food just so he could keep the table and talk to me more," she didn't seem to have noticed my amusement, in fact this fellow Joe's entire school rugby team could probably have steamed through our room naked and she wouldn't have noticed. She was utterly and totally rapt.

  "The idiot actually looked pretty ill by the end, but he just kept eating and saying how good it was, like I'd cooked it or something," she continued. "When my shift ended he walked me back to my car and we sat in it and talked for ages before going back to his place." She stopped for a moment, clearly reliving the moment privately, before finishing, "I think I'm seriously in like."

  "Really?" I squeaked, honestly not sure how to react to this new, sappy Abi. "After one night?"

  Abi and I were very serious about who we fell in like with.

  When we'd first been put in a room together in first year uni it had looked like the guy assigning roommates had been high at the time. There she was with her skin-tight jeans that seemed to be more rips than actual denim and her heavy makeup, and there I'd been with my neat little plait and inability to swear beyond squeaking 'monkey' when really riled. It had looked like the start of a bad buddy cop movie, but thankfully, we'd bonded almost immediately as a girl ran past in the corridor squealing about how much in love she was. We'd both grimaced and that, as they say, had been the start of a beautiful friendship.

  We'd promised each other then and there that, since it was uni and a time for just seeing what was out there, we'd only fall in like while we were roommates, and only when we were serious about someone.

  In the intervening two a bit years we'd naturally ended up shifting a bit more towards the middle from our polar opposites. Abi had discovered the wonders of comfy clothes and the 'less is more' approach to makeup, whilst I'd enjoyed moderate success with a cuter, lighter haircut and worked my way up to the occasional 'bitch' when needed.

  During this period I'd only been in like once, with a guy called Jason from my second year accounting tute who had turned out to have more annoying habits than a gremlin. Abi, despite her string of artistic arses, had only admitted to like twice.

  Like was not a word to be bandied about, so this was big news.

  "I've never felt like this about anyone before," she ducked her head in embarrassment and then laughed hoarsely. "Listen to me, I'm talking in flat out clichés, please slap me if I say 'he's the one'."

  "I promise I will," I said fervently, but at the same time I felt some of the weight on my chest lift. There was nothing like seeing those closest to you happy to make your own problems fade a little into the background.

  That being said, as I shifted myself up, fully intending to settle into a proper girly debrief session, I was forcibly reminded that every single part of my body was still pulsing with pain, nausea and confusion from my significantly less romantic night.

  "I'm really stoked about multiple nights man Joe," I assured her. "And we're going to go over every awesome detail a million times, but I think I need to have a shower, brush my teeth and become human again first so I can get to the appropriate levels of excitement for you."

  "Oh, hey," she instantly looked contrite. "I'm sorry, we should really be talking about your night. Elliot Sinclair, I mean what the hell?"

  "You know what?" I sighed. "I'd rather not. I feel ick about it and, for now, I just want to get clean and then hear about what happened last night to make you all twinkly and shiny."

  Our room had a little kitchenette behind a concertina door on the left and a similarly tiny bathroom on the right that contained just a sink, toilet and shower. Cocooned a few minutes later in the small shower cubicle, I leant back against the cold tiles and let the lukewarm water roll in sad little rivulets down my front. OK, so the water didn't have much of a concept of 'hot' and the pressure was akin to a dribbling watering can, but it was private and I relished in the time to myself.

  Not that I wanted to have found the like of my life the night before, I mused, or that I in any way begrudged Abi her joy, but it would have been nice to have even a smidgeon of her contentment so I didn't feel quite so discombobulated.

  Looking down at my naked body I really tried to grasp that Elliot now numbered in the handful of people who had seen it in all its, not exactly supermodel, glory.

  Everything I'd ever heard, both in rumour and from awkward interactions with Elliot's girlfriends as they tiptoed across the foyer (that I had usually just flippin' mopped) the morning after, indicated that he was a good lover. I ran my hands over my breasts and then down my sides and tried to imagine them as his, Elliot's, the guy who had given me far more Chinese burns than compliments. Was I really supposed to believe he'd pleasured me?

  Ergh! I reached
out of the shower and grabbed my toothbrush off the sink before beginning to scrub hard at my mouth.

  I couldn't take what had happened back, but it was a small consolation to know that it wasn't as if I had to brace myself for any awkward 'after' conversations with Elliot.

  To say that we didn't move in the same circles was like saying monsoon season was 'a bit wet'. I'd spent my life on the periphery of Elliot's fancy friends, not wanting to be one of them, but definitely resenting having to spend my time constantly cleaning up after them rather than hanging out with my own friends. Since I'd been at uni, however, that’d all changed.

  I was in my third year of a business degree and, for the first time in my life, had a close circle of mates, and when I wasn't working at the uni refectory, my own time. I'd seen Elliot around, and my mum certainly kept me up to date with his activities, but he and his friends didn't live in the res hall, or eat at the ref, or basically have anything to do with me and my friends. This was clearly demonstrated by the fact that, despite hearing all about him, Abi wouldn't have been able to pick Elliot out of a line-up.

  Yes, our lives had stayed blissfully separate and, sure, last night had been a pretty big blip in that, but there was nothing to say that we wouldn't merrily go back to how it had been before. I wasn't some silly, naïve twit who thought that sex with Elliot meant anything. I just had to pretend it had never happened (helpfully aided by the fact that I didn't actually know what had happened).

  Right, it was settled. I spat out the toothpaste in a white frothy full stop. Things would just carry on as normal. From now on, as it was before, I was going to have absolutely nothing to do with Elliot Sinclair.

  ----------

  It had been three weeks since he'd had sex with Rox.