by Vicky Owen
‘I don’t know. Maybe.’
She gets in.
‘You’re the biologist,’ I add with a shrug before getting in next to her. I tell the taxi driver where we’re going as Lexi frowns and worries her bottom lip, presumably calculating the odds of actually choking on her own vomit and wondering how many times she’s cheated death after too many drinks.
As we pull away, she squints, fighting against the urge to close her eyes.
Two minutes later she’s fast asleep against me. Still wearing my jacket.
It’s cute as hell—she’s cute as hell—but after tonight I won’t be calling her again.
I’m supposed to be sticking with carefree, not complicated.
If I wanted complicated I’d have a girlfriend, and I’ve only recently freed myself from my last relationship, even if Hayley’s slow to accept the new reality.
She didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life either.
I look down at Lexi, her eyes closed beneath her heavy fringe. Long lashes practically touching her cheeks. Adorably hot in a hoodie that’s far too big on her.
Yeah. Too complicated.
SIX
Luc
THE LOUD, DEEP growl of an engine interrupts my sleep.
I shift, turning away from the noise coming from outside. And away from the light.
This sofa is so cramped.
Why am I on the sofa?
I roll backwards so I’m facing the ceiling again, frowning as I squint my eyes open, shielding them from the light.
Fucking sunshine.
I’m still dressed, I realise.
And then a name: Lexi.
I turn my head away from the light to the right of me, looking to my left.
At the now empty bed.
Just crumpled sheets remain.
Oh yeah. She was wasted.
My jacket is flung over the chair near the desk.
Sitting up, I quickly run through the night before in my head.
Met up with Lexi. She was looking even hotter than I remembered.
Plans for a night of sexy fun were scuppered by her drunkenness.
Brought her here to avoid seeing Jake at the flat she shares with Cerys.
And…now she’s gone.
I rub my head, the roar of the vehicle outside already giving me a fucking headache.
Damn, she was cute. That pale skin, dark hair thing she has going on. Even the vomiting wasn’t a turn off. Just wish she hadn’t been so drunk.
I lean back, feeling the effect she has on me. Letting my imagination take over with thoughts of her climbing onto my lap on this sofa.
Cute but complicated, remember.
Yeah, thanks brain.
The buzz of my phone has me standing and walking to the nightstand next to the bed to retrieve it.
I study the lit screen.
Hayley.
This is getting ridiculous.
I let it ring out before picking the handset up.
The screen clears and shows a bunch more missed calls and three fucking voicemails. All Hayley.
Also six texts. Five from Hayley.
One from Lexi.
I quickly scroll through the messages from Hayley.
Where are you? I can’t believe… Delete.
I just got a text from Sarah saying you’re in town. Call me NOW!!!!
Yeah, delete.
You’re with a GIRL??
Yup, sure was. Delete.
Delete.
Delete.
And Lexi’s text.
Just one word.
Sorry.
She doesn’t have anything to apologise for. It was a night out with her friends. The contrast between two people has never been so stark.
Hayley acting like an entitled brat. Lexi apologising for, well, being a normal twentysomething.
And I’m suddenly angry.
Voicemails. Deep breath.
‘Luc, who’s that fucking lanky bitch that Deena saw you with?! You’re supposed to be seeing me tonight! Call me now.’
Bitch? Fuck’s sake. Delete.
‘There’s a picture of you both on Twitter from last night too! How could you do this to me? I need to speak to you right this fucking second. We need to see each other. Just call me and we can work it out. I know you still love me.’
No. For fuck’s sake. Delete.
‘Sarah text me saying you got in a fucking taxi with that whore! If you don’t call me now then we’re through forever!’
No. Fuck off. Fuck the fuck off. We’re already through forever.
I delete the last message before sitting on the edge of the bed, kicking my shoes off, then laying down.
Lexi’s scent is still on the pillow. I bury my face in it. Sweet and soft.
Fuck Hayley. I swear she didn’t used to be this insane. But I don’t care.
My phone starts vibrating again on the nightstand. I don’t even have to look to know who it is.
I thought she said it was over, for fuck’s sake.
Maybe I need to force the issue a bit harder.
Maybe seeing me with Lexi one time isn’t enough.
Once the buzzing ends, I reach over and grab my mobile.
Hayley. Obviously.
I swipe the missed call away and open Twitter.
Hayley’s right. There’s a photo of me talking to Lexi on the band’s account.
Fucking Harry.
Someone’s tagged another picture of me with my arm around Lexi in town last night.
Forgot just how good she looked in my hoodie.
I quickly search and scroll through.
None of her vomiting, thank fuck.
So Hayley thinks Lexi is my new thing. My new fling. Maybe something more.
Maybe if she thinks I’m dating Lexi…
Or that she’s actually my girlfriend…
On an impulse, I open the message from Lexi.
Who knows? Maybe I could offer her something in return if she’s willing to play along. Didn’t exactly sound like she wanted to become a teacher.
And, truth be told, I wouldn’t be averse to seeing her again. She was fun. Part of me regrets that she was gone before I woke up.
Cute but complicated…
I hesitate for a moment.
But if it was strictly a business transaction?
My phone starts ringing again.
Hayley.
Fuck it.
I divert the call, hit reply and start tapping out a message to Lexi.
SEVEN
Lexi
‘HOW CAN YOU eat that?’
‘Cereal?’
The clatter of plates and cutlery from the kitchen punctuates Sam and Mylo’s conversation.
‘You don’t like cereal?’ Sam’s voice says.
I let the door click shut as silently as possible.
The shower is running in the bathroom. Probably Cerys. Possibly with Jake.
‘Yeah, but with milk, not dry,’ Mylo answers.
I pad quietly towards my bedroom door. As long as no one spots me, I won’t have to speak to anyone.
‘Milk is gross! I don’t want my food swimming in it.’
The handle creaks as I press down on it.
Slowly.
Please don’t hear.
‘Oh. Hey Lexi.’ Sam stands at the hallway entrance, a hand on her hip and a raised eyebrow. ‘Trying to sneak in?’
How…?
‘I, uh…’ I look down at myself, then through the crack in my bedroom door. ‘I just wanted to put my bag in my room,’ I finish, unhooking the bag from my shoulder and tossing it through the door, onto the bed.
Damn it.
‘Right,’ says Sam, skepticism in her voice. ‘And where did you end up last night?’
As I follow her to the sofa, visions of the night before flash through my mind. Or what I can remember of it, at least.
‘You were so drunk,’ Mylo says, grinning as we sit down.
‘Don’t remind me,’ I s
ay, frowning. Of course, the most memorable part was this morning. Waking up in that huge bed all on my own. Was pretty sure he wanted to hook up before that point, but he didn’t even want to be near me. I must have made a complete fool of myself.
And then I remember:
Oh no, the vomiting.
I put my head in my hands, wanting to hide the shame that must be visible on my face, even if they weren’t there to witness the horror.
What a freaking disaster. No wonder he didn’t want to be near me.
‘You OK?’ Sam says, putting her hand gently on my back as I lean forward a little and gently rub my eyes.
‘Maybe some tea?’ Mylo offers, standing up and walking over to the counter.
‘No, no it’s OK. I just need to rest,’ I say, standing back up.
‘Hey, this is a one-time offer, Johnson,’ he teases back.
I wave my hand dismissively as I leave the room. ‘Yeah, yeah.’
Once in my bedroom, I let myself collapse on the bed.
I vomited in front of Luc Hall.
Even in here, on my own, my insides churn as shreds of last night continue to crop up in my memory.
So humiliating. Hot rock star drummer tries to hook up with me and I throw the opportunity in the gutter.
Literally.
So much for making the most of my last year of freedom.
Still staring at the ceiling, tracing a crack in the paint that runs from wall to wall, I reach out my hand to find my bag. Once found, I feel inside for my phone.
I really should apologise.
The screen lights up in front of me as I hold it above my face. After finding the text conversation—and refraining from reading back through it—I wonder what I should write, exactly.
Sorry for last night?
Sorry I threw up?
Sorry I’m not groupie material?
None of those are right.
After a few minutes of agonising, I settle for merely one word.
Sorry.
I close my messages and open Twitter, really hoping I won’t see myself hunched over with half-eaten food shooting out of my mouth.
Nothing.
Not even on No Reckless’ own feed. Thankfully.
I scroll down anyway, just to make sure. Then I see me.
‘Oh crap,’ I mutter, sitting up. Me and Luc, backstage on Thursday night. Who even took that picture?
Somehow I’d forgotten how good he looked after the gig. His t-shirt visibly damp. His dirty blond hair a perfect mess.
There are comments. Several thousand.
Without thinking, I click on the speech bubble and instantly regret it.
It’s mostly gushing about how hot Luc is, but there are some pretty shitty comments about me too.
Lanky slut.
She’s no model.
Still not back with Hayley?
Goggle eyed whore.
Fat bitch.
Fat?! I instinctively touch my midsection, looking down, my mouth drying up.
No, don’t even go there, I tell myself. I’m not fat, and who cares what a bunch of strangers think?
Still, I could do with some water.
Shoving my phone into my pocket, I walk back to the kitchen.
‘You’re back!’ says Mylo as I head straight for the cupboard with the glasses in it. ‘Sure you don’t want any tea? Kettle is nearly boiled.’
I select a glass and fill it with tap water. ‘Thought you said it was a one-time offer?’ I turn around and sip some of the water, looking at Mylo.
‘So that’s a no?’ he says, setting down two mugs. One each for him and Sam, presumably.
‘No.’ I reach into the cupboard and grab another mug for him. ‘Wait, what about Cerys?’ I add. The shower is still running.
‘Don’t think we’ll be seeing her any time soon,’ says Sam, still on the sofa, sitting cross-legged with an anatomy book open on her lap.
‘Oh?’ I drain my glass of water, then join her while Mylo sorts out the drinks.
Sam closes the book and puts it on the arm of the sofa, turning her body to face me and shaking her head.
‘So…Cerys came home this morning?’ I probe.
‘No, she was already here,’ says Mylo from the kitchen.
‘With Jake,’ adds Sam, the frown on her face a reminder of her opinion of rock star types.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out to check.
Message from Luc.
I put it away quickly before Sam can see.
‘So they’re both in there?’ I nod in the direction of the bathroom, gushing water still audible. Mylo approaches with cups of steaming hot tea.
‘English breakfast. Extra strong.’ He puts the huge pink mug down next to me and hands Sam’s directly to her.
‘Sugar?’ I demand.
‘A metric fuckton,’ he says with a half-smile, pale blue eyes twinkling.
‘Thank you.’ I smile with genuine appreciation.
‘And no,’ he adds before heading back to the kitchen counter to collect his own hot drink, ‘they’re not both in there.’
I turn to Sam and raise an eyebrow.
‘Yeah, he only got up and left before Cerys woke up,’ she says, an edge to her voice. ‘What did I say about guys in bands?’ She makes eye contact with me, and for a moment I wonder if she knows about last night. Something about it doesn’t sound right, but I can’t put my finger on why, so I just nod numbly, not wanting to disappoint Sam with my own reckless behaviour last night.
She shakes her head before taking a sip of her tea. ‘She deserves better than that,’ she adds.
At least I knew last night was just a booty call. Only my booty was too drunk.
Poor Cerys.
HALF AN HOUR later I’m sat on the edge of my bed. Cerys never did join us when she finally got out of the shower. She just went straight to her room. I haven’t even seen her since I got back.
But I have a message from Luc.
Wanna meet up soon? Maybe no alcohol this time ;)
And I have no idea how to respond. I’d been kind of hoping he’d forgotten last night. A stupid, impossible hope, but a girl can dream, right?
Would it be a betrayal to Cerys if I met up with Jake’s friend? I don’t think Cerys would see it like that.
But then there’s Sam…
I still think she’s wrong. Especially after what Luc said when dropping me home after the gig. Although maybe that was just a ruse to get my number.
At least Mylo’s neutral.
I look down at the screen again, my thumbs hovering over the touch screen.
Oh, whatever.
Meet up for what?
May as well act dumb. Pretend I can’t remember last night.
I press send and toss my phone aside, onto the peachy bedsheets. After kicking off my boots, I walk over to the dresser and pick up the small bottle of baby oil. I squeeze a drop onto my palm before rubbing it between my hands and gently using my fingers to remove smudged make up from my eyes and cheeks.
The sound of a text comes from my bedsheets. Still wiping my face, I look over and read the message that’s visible on the screen.
We can get milkshakes.
Milkshakes! Another flash of last night comes through, this time causing me to scrunch my face in disgust. Banana. Yuck.
After washing my hands and face, I reply.
What flavour?
His response comes faster than last time.
Any you like…
This is too bizarre. The drummer of one of my favourite bands is texting me. Wanting to meet up for milkshakes, even after I vomited in front of him in the damn street.
And I still don’t even remember the whole night. Who knows what stupid crap I came out with while I was drunk?
Oh no. What if I declared my love for him?
I squirm internally as my pulse quickens.
No, don’t be silly. He wouldn’t still be messaging me if it was that bad. Would he?
&n
bsp; I still haven’t replied.
Oh, screw it.
OK x
I mean, it can’t get any worse, can it?
EIGHT
Lexi
WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON. I left the girls in the library. Conveniently, they’ve got a joint lab project together and they’re not so familiar with my workload, so I didn’t even really need to come up with an excuse to leave early.
Still, you didn’t tell them, did you?
I round the corner and there he is. So stupidly casual, sunglasses and all. Leaning against the wall outside the diner he suggested, looking at his phone.
My stomach’s a fluttering mess as I approach, and I’m not sure if it’s low-level guilt or the way his t-shirt clings to his shoulders.
He looks up as I close in on him, smiling as he sees me.
‘Hey Alexis,’ he says, his voice every bit as soft and sexy as I remember from the last time we spoke. Well, the last time when I wasn’t a nauseous mess.
Don’t think about it. Pretend it didn’t happen.
He opens the door and stands aside, indicating for me to enter first. I do, but then hang back and follow him to the counter.
‘What are you ordering?’ says an older, serious and seriously bored-looking woman behind the counter.
Luc looks up at the menu, displayed on backlit screens above and behind the woman. Pictures of practically fluorescent milkshakes and ice cream sundaes fill the five screens, along with the names of a couple of dozen flavours and combos.
He glances at me and looks me up and down. I’m wearing a pink tee, white skinny jeans and trainers that go with both. ‘Well, we know you don’t want banana. How about strawberries and cream to match your outfit?’
He looks so sure of himself. So smug. Like it’s so predictable I would like strawberries and cream. And like I would dress in the same colours. And do both at the same time. I really want to tell him no, just to wipe that damn smirk off his beautiful face.
Unfortunately, he’s right.
I attempt a smarmy face back at him, narrowing my eyes and forcing an obviously fake, tight-lipped smile.
He raises an eyebrow and turns back to the woman behind the counter. ‘Yeah, she’ll take the strawberries and cream shake.’
Great. I go find us a table while he orders his sickly banana shake.