Scrubbing a hand through his short hair to wake himself up a bit more, and dragging on the jeans discarded by the bed, he exited his room, closing the door softly. He turned and almost tripped straight over Daz who was squatting on the floor, digging through his surf bag apparently in search of some missing item.
"Watch it!" He snapped and Fletch held up his hands in mock surrender and stepped round him with exaggerated care.
Catching sight of Jai leaning against the make-shift breakfast bar he and Daz had created the previous year out of some milk crates and planks of wood, Fletch made his way over to him.
"What's his problem?" He asked, gesturing towards Daz who, obviously still unable to find what he was looking for, had upended his bag so that a shower of sand cascaded out onto the floor along with the contents. It was an unnecessary question really, he was pretty sure he knew what his mate's issue was, but he was hoping Jai would throw some other option into the mix.
Jai's dark eyes were amused as he shrugged. "Something to do with your bathroom being cleaner than usual and you having it off with the Montgomery chick. I'm thinking you'd know more about it than me."
Fletch crossed his arms and joined him in leaning back against the bar. "No idea about the bathroom thing," he replied honestly and Jai snorted, his gaze sweeping across the livid scratch marks on Fletch's shoulders.
"But I'm sensing you're all across the other part," he smirked.
"Give it a rest, would you?" Daz suddenly snarled from down on the carpet. "He doesn't need any bloody encouragement from you."
Fletch and Jai exchanged looks and then Jai grabbed up a bit of junk mail next to him and, screwing it up into a ball, pegged it at his mate's head. "What's got your knickers in a knot?" He asked as Daz batted the projectile angrily away. "Jealous that your Fletchy-wetchy's got a new playmate?"
"New?" Daz rose to this feet and approached them stiffly, his face ruddy with annoyance. "There's nothing new about her," he jabbed a finger forcefully in the direction of Fletch's room, "screwing with him," he jabbed a finger at Fletch himself. "It's the same damn shit that's been going on for years."
"Keep your voice down," Fletch muttered, finding that his jaw had tensed in response to Daz's aggressive advance. "And, while you're at it, back off a bit on the drama. You know I've been sleeping with Lara and you've held yourself together alright about it until now. What's got you going this morning?"
"What's got me going?" Daz repeated incredulously. "Were you at the same house I was yesterday? Did you see Donny's mum losing her mind trying to hold it all together? And did you clock her daughter, her only living kid, skulking around in the background getting hammered, being rude to people and then buggering off early? You were there, same as I was, so I want to know what about any of that put you in the mood to bring her back here for a quick go at it."
Fletch bristled, drawing himself upright and saying tensely, "You don't know anything about it."
"I don't…?" Daz's voice trailed off in disbelief, but then came back stronger than ever. "Are you out of your mind? I know everything about it. I've known Lara as long as you have, don't forget. The only difference is that I haven't been fixated upon rooting her since I laid eyes on her. And, OK, I get it, she's probably a fantastic lay, we all know she's had plenty of practise-"
Fletch let out a low noise similar to a growl and launched forward, only to be pulled back by Jai who grabbed his shoulder and then forced himself firmly between the flatmates.
"Easy," he said lowly at Fletch, before looking round at Daz and adding, "Too far, mate."
Daz remained staring bullishly past Jai's mediating presence at Fletch for a moment, but then dropped his head and took a step back. "Right," he agreed tightly, "too far."
There was a tense silence for a few seconds then, obviously feeling it was now safe to do so, Jai dropped his hand from Fletch's shoulder.
"Come on," he said simply to Daz, "let's leave them to it, yeah?"
Daz nodded curtly and bent down to stuff his strewn items back into his surf bag. Rising once more, he slung the strap across his shoulder and went to follow Jai out the door before stopping and looking back at Fletch.
"Look, I'm with Mer on you two sorting it all out before we graduate," he said gruffly. "That makes sense. It's just...I'm saying don't get your hopes up that she's going to offer you something I don't think she has it in her to give, alright?"
And then he was gone, banging the door shut behind him in a way that suggested that, despite his effort to make his departing words appear calmer, he was in no way placated by the conversation.
Well that makes two of us, Fletch thought viciously as he stood rooted to the spot, breathing heavily, his fists rhythmically clenching and unclenching by his sides.
Nearly everything in him wanted to go after his supposed best mate and have it out properly with him; bruised knuckles, bloody noses, the whole lot. That wasn't an option, though, not with Lara still asleep in the other room. At least, he hoped she was still asleep. There wasn't exactly any love lost between her and Daz, but, given the state she'd been in the night before, he didn't exactly think it'd be great for her to wake to someone so thoroughly slagging her off.
Needing to check that that hadn't been the case, he crossed to his room and opened the door to reveal Lara's outline curled under his covers. She was in the foetal position, protective even in sleep, but she was at least clearly still fast asleep. It was a small mercy.
She looked almost like a different person in that moment, he realised; an effect created by her lack of make-up, tumbled hair and the fact that it was his old t-shirt peeking out under his doona, rather than some expertly tailored outfit worn like armour. And she had freckles he saw suddenly, a light dusting that peppered the tops of her pale cheeks and which he'd never known she had. As far as things he hadn't known about her before last night went, though, freckles didn't even come close to the top of the list.
He allowed himself a few seconds more to watch her sleep, then bowed to the inevitable realisation that what he was doing was creepy as all get out and withdrew to check out the clean bathroom Daz had been going on about. It was as he stood on the cold tiles, staring round at the room that had been scrubbed to a spotless gleam by a Lara clearly in need of some good deed to perform, that it hit him.
He wasn't angry at Daz because he'd got it all wrong about Lara; he was angry at him because, deep down, he worried he was right.
Chapter 18 – Agree to Disagree
Waking up the next/same day was a long and complicated process. I spent a significant period of time hovering in that semi-aware state just below waking; shying away from facing reality.
Eventually, however, I was buoyed up towards consciousness; the reserves of exhaustion that had allowed me to sink back down every other time depleted to the point where I had no other option than to resurface. Even then, I lay still where I was for a long time, slowly blinking and reorientating myself.
I didn't need to roll over to check, I knew I was alone in Fletch's bed. Logically, this was a good thing; it gave me a chance to reclaim some normality and shake off the last vestiges of the malaise from Donny's birthday in peace. Some visceral part of me, however, mourned the loss of his warmth against my back.
The annoying moment of neediness was cast aside, however, as I pushed myself upright and started to take stock of all the reasons taking a night off from my usual beauty routine was a bad idea. Raking my fingers furiously through hair that seemed to have fluffed to double its normal size during the night, I deftly twisted it back into a tight braid. As I did so, I tried to ignore the funny sort of pressure I was starting to feel at the back of the roof of my mouth. It felt like the start of a sore throat, but I told myself it was probably just a reaction to all the crying and other nonsense I'd done the day before.
Crying and other nonsense, well didn't that cover a fun array of dysfunction?
As memories of the past 24 hours jostled in my mind for the honour of humiliating me
first, I eyed off the window, wondering if it opened and whether there'd be a way round to the steps back to the car park from it. My thoughts of escape didn't go any further than that, though. What was the point? Fletch hadn't let me get away with running away from him last time and I really couldn't see that changing after last night. Besides, on a very basic level, leaving here would mean leaving Fletch and I wasn't sure I was ready to do that yet.
Throwing back the covers, I was faced with another reason why running away wasn't an option. I was stark naked. I had a quick glance around for my dress, but unable to immediately locate it, and feeling a bone-deep chill creeping over my bare skin, I headed to Fletch's drawers to find something suitable to cover myself with. It was a fairly unsuccessful mission, but then I had to admit that I wouldn't have much liked it if I'd found he had a whole chest full of women's clothing just hanging about either.
After digging through what felt like hundreds of the exact same t-shirts and shorts, I finally managed to find some warmer clothes stuffed up the back. Thus it was that I emerged out in the main room swamped in not only the same old t-shirt from the day before, but also a massive grey hoodie and a black pair of track pants. The trackie-dacks clung precariously to my hips, despite my having drawn the draw string around the waist as tightly as it would go, and the bottom hems spilled over my toes. I felt heavy with the extra fabric and was sure I looked patently ridiculous, but I was at least blessedly warm.
When I glanced up from dispiritedly eying the droopy material around my ankles, I saw Fletch immediately. He was sitting on the sagging couch to my right, feet propped up on an old trunk that had clearly been drafted into service as a coffee table, a laptop balanced on his thighs. My face flamed as I caught sight of him, although I was sure my embarrassment wasn't just in relation to my, or rather his, attire. Seeing him again threw some of the previous night into stark relief. That mouth, those fingers…how was I ever supposed to look at him the same way again?
Seeing me standing there staring at him, Fletch gave me a quick up and down, taking in my unorthodox outfit, before offering me a half-smile in greeting. I offered him a quarter-smile in return, but it died away as the windows I'd acknowledged dawn through earlier caught my eye and my stomach gave a slow, horrified flip.
It wasn't dawn now; there was no sun to be seen, only a dusky backdrop to a couple of floodlights on the building opposite. These floodlights were on because, although my brain protested the truth of it, it was getting dark.
"What time is it?" I asked sharply, my discomfiture at appearing before him in my ludicrous outfit, and reliving the intimacies we'd experienced, disappearing in an instant as this, more pertinent, concern took precedence.
Fletch obligingly checked his watch. "Just gone five."
"Five?" I repeated, still not really understanding. "In the afternoon?"
He nodded.
"You let me sleep all day?" My voice rising, I crossed to the windows, checking for myself that the twilight outside really was dwindling into genuine evening. "Why did you do that?" I turned my head to stare accusingly at Fletch, but he looked thoroughly unruffled.
"Probably because I was working under the assumption that someone who can sleep 12 straight hours through a day probably needs to."
Of all the sanctimonious…
"Well, your assumption was crap," I said irritably because, seriously, a day? I'd lost a whole day? How dare he be so calm about it? He knew my life ran to a specific pattern. He knew I couldn't afford to lose a whole day.
"Where's my bag?" I demanded and he inclined his head over to the wall next to the windows where, sure enough, my bag leant, abandoned, up against the plasterboard. I snatched it up, in the manner I would expect a mother would snatch up her child after losing track of it (for a whole day!), and gave it a quick onceover. It appeared unmolested, but it contained Big Blue and had apparently spent a good 12 hours unsupervised in Fletch's company, so I was apprehensive as I opened it up and checked everything was as it should be.
"What are you expecting me to have done?" Fletch asked heavily from the couch. "Robbed you while you slept?"
Reassured by the fact that everything seemed to be in its proper place, some of the snap left my voice as I replied, "Most of your furniture appears to have been fashioned out of milk crates and items clearly salvaged from the tip." I looked pointedly around the small, open-plan space, my gaze lingering on the furnishings that you'd have to be in a very charitable frame of mind to refer to even as 'bespoke'. "Frankly, I think I'd respect you more had you tried to improve your situation through petty theft."
"I'll bear that in mind."
I barely heard his smartarse response, I was too busy flipping to the schedule page of Big Blue and calculating how many appointments I'd missed and good deed plans I'd failed to set in place by the loss of a full day. It wasn't pretty and it only got worse when I looked at my phone and saw the large number of missed calls and messages blinking away on the screen. A whole heap of them were from Saskia and I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, the hand holding my phone pressing convulsively against my stomach, as I realised that, after giving her a big lecture about showing up, I hadn't been there to pick her up from school.
"Hey." I opened my eyes to see Fletch putting aside his laptop and turning to look at me seriously over the back of the couch. "Can't you give it a rest for today?"
He didn't understand, I told myself, holding myself back as my temper spiked. He hadn't heard me tell Saskia that she was worth my time and attention, only to turn around and completely fail to back it up.
"No," I replied succinctly, flipping my braid over my shoulder and lifting my chin firmly.
"Great," I heard him mutter sarcastically before he hauled himself to his feet. "Right, I'm going to take a shower. I'll leave you to it."
While I wasn't a fan of the almost weary note in his voice, I was glad that he'd excused himself from being around during the damage-control mode I was about to shift into. The last thing I needed while bringing all the reins firmly back within my grasp was his disapproving presence.
"Atta boy," I said in a vague sort of thanks, before switching my attention back to my phone and beginning to take stock of the most urgent of my messages.
Of course I knew who the first person I was going to call back was going to be, but I waited until I heard the shower start in the bathroom before I crossed to the furthest point in the room and pressed the button to call Saskia. I half expected her to punish me by not answering, but after a couple of rings it was picked up.
"You're not dead then," she said by way of greeting.
I sagged back into the corner in relief. She sounded pissed, but normal level pissed, not 'your betrayal has set my emotional maturity back a decade and I'll never trust again' pissed.
"No, not dead," I agreed.
"So you were just making a point?" She asked irritably. "You left me hanging about for an hour to ram home how I have to make stuff happen on my own, or something?"
"No," I repeated, more forcefully this time. "I wouldn't make a point like that at your expense. I wasn't..." I paused, listening carefully to make sure the shower was still running before repeating, "I wasn't able to come. It wasn't that there was something more important happening, it was that I couldn't come get you. I'm… sorry, it won't happen again."
"What do you mean you couldn't?" She asked suspiciously, and I could just imagine the way her heavily kohl-ed eyes would be narrowing, it was an expression I knew all too well. "Are you...I mean, you're alright and everything, yeah? Your voice is kind of wei-"
"I'm fine," I said quickly. "So, where are you now?"
"On the bus, where do you think?" Was her sharp reply, any concern in her tone vanishing instantly. "And, before you have a massive whinge at me, I already called Zannie to let her know you'd bailed on me and that I'd be late, but that I was on my way."
Taking in the significance of her words, I bit down on my, slightly tender, bottom lip as it began to sprea
d into a smile. I tried not to let any of my pleasure at her answer show, however, as I murmured, "Good."
"Not really," she said dismissively, "this bus smells like sweaty balls."
"So breathe through your mouth," I advised. "It's only going to be for one day, I'll be there to pick you up on Monday."
"So you say," she grumbled, but there was no real heat in it. Then, perhaps feeling she'd been a bit too pleasant with me, she hung up without another word.
It was only the first of the day's screw ups that I had to fix, but it was the most important, so it was with a much improved mood that I went over to the couch, finding that my instinct was to sit down cross legged in the spot Fletch had been moments before. The cushions were still curved to accommodate his larger frame, but this seemed to make me feel more, not less, comfortable as I quickly picked the next person to call.
I dreaded the idea of apologising, not good at it at the best of times, but certainly not when my throat was starting to feel like someone was running sandpaper down it every time I swallowed. Still, it was what needed to be done, and it'd been surprisingly pain-free with Saskia, so I quickly dialled the next number on my list. I was all prepared for recriminations and aggro so it came as a shock when, after barely having had time to identify myself, a girl I'd promised to run through a mock job interview with, interrupted me.
"Yeah, hi," she said cheerfully. "Don't worry about it, that Mary girl's already been in touch to let me know you took today off."
Mary? I floundered for a moment. Who the hell was Mary?
"You mean Merry?" I checked.
"Yeah, her. She put it all over Facebook and then texted me as well to say you'd have to reschedule to next week."
The Do-Gooder Page 24