“Oh, shit, sorry,” I said sheepishly. “But, Em, we’ve been over this—you were legitimately allowed to be mad at me. I kind of fucked up our flatshare.”
“It’s true, you did, but . . . I might be able to persuade Meely to move in.”
“Really? That would seriously up our street cred.”
“Ellie, it’s weird that you find her so cool. She’s just like us. You’re going to freak her out if you keep going on like that. But yes, it’s a possibility. So we won’t all get kicked out for not paying the rent.”
“Glad to hear it. I really don’t need to add ‘evicted’ to my list of this year’s events.”
“So true,” said a familiar voice. I turned around and hit Lara with my bag. “Ow, can you be a bit more graceful, Ellie?”
“Sorry. Just glad you’re finally here. Shall we go and get a table?”
“Fine,” she grumbled and we walked inside. “So have I missed the disaster recap then?”
“Nope, we were waiting for you,” said Emma, as she sank down into the chair. “All I know is that Maxine is as much of a bitch as ever.”
“Quelle surprise. So, you asked for money and she told you to get fucked?”
“It was worse,” I said and they both looked suitably shocked. “She acted like an actual human being.” I paused for dramatic effect. “Which means I’ve either misinterpreted her this whole time, or she’s having a breakdown.”
“I’m lost,” said Emma.
“Shut up,” cried Lara. “She gave it to you?”
I grinned. “Twenty-three thousand pounds!!!!! I mean, it’s 2,000 pounds less than what I wanted, but I get to write about actual topics and not just exploit myself for money. I’ve already done my first one about slut-shaming—it’s going up soon.”
“Oh my God,” shrieked Emma. “This is so so good! Congrats, El.”
“I know,” I squealed.
“You deserve it,” said Lara. “I just wish you’d warned me it was good news or I might not have come down from Oxford, and actually stayed to do some revision for a change.”
“Revision’s overrated. Besides, I knew you’d only come if you thought it was bad news.”
“I did think you’d be crying hysterically,” said Emma as Lara nodded.
“Jeez, thanks for the faith, guys.”
“You do cry a lot,” pointed out Lara. “Every time you have a mini crisis you sob hysterically. It’s only fair we figured you’d be a mess.”
I rolled my eyes at them. “Well, I’m not. I obviously had a bit of a cry on the weekend—because my boyfriend called me a slut and dumped me—but I’ve pulled myself together and now I have a job with money and my friends are my friends again.”
“We always were,” said Emma.
“I know but still. I feel so much better, like I’ve sorted everything out. I’ve even come to terms with the whole Nick thing. I was factually slutty, and if he meant anything else by it, then he’s judgmental and wrong. I deserve better than him.”
“Are you sure you don’t miss him though?” asked Emma. “He did seem kind of perfect for you, babe . . . bar the slut thing, obviously.”
“No!” I cried. “He yelled at me and abandoned me to the cows.”
“Yeah, but you did sleep with someone else,” said Lara.
“BECAUSE HE NEVER TOLD ME WE WERE A COUPLE,” I cried, as the nearest waiter U-turned back to the kitchen. “I’m not a mind reader—how was I meant to know?”
“Um, because it was obvious?” said Lara. “He always messaged you, he called you the whole time, he suggested cool dates, he bought you drinks, he made you dinner, he cared about you and your life, he remembered your friends’ names . . . Seriously, Ellie, one-night stands don’t really do that.”
I sat back in my chair. “Shit. I guess he did do quite a lot.”
Emma nodded. “I did think he was getting quite keen, El. Didn’t he always pick you up at work too, and the fact that he invited you on a mini-break was just the biggest giveaway. Casual shags don’t do that.”
“Do you think that he thought I knew he wanted to be more than casual?”
“Probably,” said Lara. “Any woman with half a brain would assume the guy really liked her if he did all that stuff for her.”
“Wait, seriously?” I asked.
They nodded.
“Oh God. I’m an idiot. I just didn’t see all the signs.”
“Well, obviously,” said Lara. “Every other guy has always been a total bastard to you. You’ve read into it way more than they have and you’ve got hurt. It was your natural defense to see the worst.”
“She’s right,” said Emma softly. “Babe, they’re not all like Sergio. I got taken in but it doesn’t mean you have to. You may genuinely have found the right one.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Please. Nick is not ‘The One.’ We have, like, zero in common and he thinks I’m a slut. He may have fancied me during our ‘relationship,’ but I think that ship has sailed.”
“No, it hasn’t,” said Lara. “You’re just being dramatic.”
“You could save it,” said Emma. “I mean, he is the nicest guy you’ve ever dated.”
“I’ve dated two men. Precisely two.”
“So? How many guys out there can you imagine doing all that cute stuff for you? Especially ones who earn so much and are attractive and normal.”
They had a point. He was pretty out of my league. “Fuck,” I said.
“Exactly,” said Emma. “In fact, I don’t know what you’re doing here—I’d be at his right now apologizing for being such an idiot.”
I looked at her and then at Lara. “Guys . . .”
“Oh my God, no,” said Lara. “I’ve come all the way!”
“You can have dinner here and I’ll pay for it, and then you can sleep in my bed.”
“The one where you and Ollie had sex?” she asked.
“No,” I cried. “That was in his room. Mine’s fine.” I stood up and rifled through my wallet, pulling out my one and only £20 note. “There you go, guys, dinner’s on me.”
“That’s it?” asked Emma. “I think it’s probably going to be a tiny bit more.”
“There’s a voucher online. I’ll forward it to you while I’m on my way to Waterloo, okay? Love you guys so much, have a good dinner, and WISH ME LUCK.”
I ran out of the restaurant before they could stop me. They were right; Nick wasn’t like other shitty men—he was The One. Well, the right one for now anyway. I had to win him back.
• • •
I stood outside Nick’s building. I’d raced on the Tube all the way to Waterloo and now I felt like a total idiot. The last time I’d seen him, I’d been standing in a muddy garlic field. He would have had to explain to his whole family why I’d been exiled back to London and why he’d fancied a psychopath. He probably still hated me.
But I still had to do this. I had to give myself a real chance of having a proper boyfriend. Nick was kind, attractive, generous and caring. Yes he was a banker, and he did call me a slut, but really I should be flattered that he’d even cared enough to be so pissed off. I couldn’t imagine any of my other Internet dates being remotely bothered if they found out I’d fucked my flatmate.
And, you know what, Ellie, you do deserve Nick, I told myself. It was about time I ditched this teenage insecurity. It was driving me—and my friends—insane. Nick fancied me, so clearly I wasn’t that unattractive. Even the other online dates had wanted to go out with me. I had amazing boobs and I was clearly good at my job or Maxine wouldn’t have said yes. Besides, I was STRONG. I’d stood up to Maxine. No one did that. If I could handle her, I could damn well sort stuff out with Nick.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
I whirled around in surprise. The concierge had come up to the door and was now holding it open for me.
Oh fuck. He probably thought I was a stalker—or a prostitute. Then I remembered that actually I was a columnist for an online magazine. I stuck my chin in the air and walked through the door he was holding for me.
“Thank you,” I said. “I know the way from here.”
“Very good, ma’am.” I shot him a look to check he wasn’t hiding a smile, but he looked pretty sincere. I breathed out in relief and ran up the stairs to Nick’s floor.
21B. The door was shut. I crept up towards it and put my head to the keyhole. I couldn’t hear anything. Maybe he wasn’t even home. I suddenly felt like an idiot. I’d just rushed over without even sending him a bloody text. He probably wasn’t in and I’d have wasted my night and train fare.
I heard a sound from inside. Oh God. He was there. This was so much worse than a wasted £2.40. He was going to think I was a nutter. I might have felt like I was in an Audrey Hepburn movie when I was fleeing Pizza Express but really, it was more like a scene from American Psycho.
I took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell before I could run away. The door opened.
“Ellie,” he said, staring at me.
“Hey. You’re in.”
“Um, did you not think I would be?”
“Wasn’t . . . sure.”
“How have things been?”
“Umm fine,” I said. Why wasn’t he inviting me in? Shit, did he have someone in there?!
“Do you, do you want to come in?”
I breathed out in relief and followed him into the flat, wishing I’d thought to take the lift so I could check my makeup in the mirror. What kind of girl went over to see The Potential One without fixing her mascara?
We sat down awkwardly on his sofa. He was still wearing his work shirt, but had changed into tracksuit bottoms. He looked sexy. I felt the exact opposite.
“How was the rest of the Isle of Wight?” I asked.
He let out a brittle laugh. “Uh, kind of weird. Everyone was freaking out that you left, and they made me try and find you. I traced you to a tractor but the driver said he’d dropped you off by the ferry.”
“You came to find me? Why didn’t you call me?”
“I didn’t really think you’d pick up the phone after the things I said to you in the field.”
I remembered how it had felt like I’d been run over by that bloody tractor when he’d called me a slut. “Hm, fair enough.”
“But you got home okay?” he said, running his hand through his hair. “I felt shit when you left. I was really worried about you.”
“You were?”
“Do you really think that little of me?”
“No, ’course not! I just thought you were too mad at me to care if I was being mugged en route home. But, no, I was fine. Sad, but fine.”
He sat back in the sofa and looked at me. “Why are you here, Ellie?”
I stared back at him. Honestly, I had no idea. Was I really there to try to win him back so that he could be my boyfriend? Could I actually see myself being with him?
I opened my mouth to try to say something relevant but nothing came out. Crap.
He sighed. “Ellie, I really like you. I’m sorry it got so weird on the Isle. I guess I just felt pretty shit that you’d fucked some other guy.”
I winced. “It wasn’t like that, Nick.”
“Yeah, I know. But it just made me feel like you don’t really want something serious with me. And then . . . I kind of read your columns and I realized you thought I was treating you like the rebound.” I flushed in embarrassment. He now knew everything about me. This was horrible. “But it was my fault. I shouldn’t have spoken so much about Sara at the start. So I do have a vague idea of how you feel about wanting it casual. But now I’m telling you I do really like you. Do you . . . do you want more?”
This was it. My opening to say that I did want something serious and please could we put all this behind us and go back to those ten minutes of being a cute couple.
I looked at him, with his tanned skin, floppy hair and hopeful green eyes. He was the ideal guy, but, for some reason, it didn’t really feel like he was the ideal guy for me. He wanted me to be his girlfriend; I just wanted to shag his brains out.
“Oh God,” I said eventually. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, Nick, but, I think you’re right. I don’t want something serious.”
His face dropped, then he crossed his arms. “Right. So you came here because . . . ?”
“Because I really wanted you to be my boyfriend.” He opened his mouth, but I carried on speaking. “No, let me explain. I just . . . I realized how much of an idiot I was last weekend, and how great a guy you are. But then when I got here, I . . . I think I’ve just realized that you’re right; I don’t want something serious. I don’t feel ready for it, Nick. I really just want to be young, and fun and single and, like, carry on dating guys and having sex—but only with the ones I like.”
“So I was right. You are a slut.”
“You’re not listening to me,” I cried. “I want to be single. If that means having sex with more than one person, then fine, yes, I want to be a slut. I want to have sex and feel good about myself. Is that a problem for you?”
He looked taken aback. “No, it’s . . . Ellie, it’s fine. Obviously I get it. I’m a guy. That’s all I wanted to do for the last ten years. But now I’m a bit older and I want more. Ah fuck, I guess I’ve been pretty harsh on you. You’re a few years younger than me.”
“I don’t know if it’s an age thing per se. I just haven’t really been with many guys. In fact, my number is seriously unslutty.”
He smiled. “I had a feeling it was. I think that’s why I was so shocked about the flatmate thing—it didn’t seem very you.”
“It wasn’t. But to be honest, Nick, you don’t really know me that well,” I said quietly.
“Fair enough. I wish I’d had the chance to though.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I think I’ve just been all over the place. When you called me your girlfriend in the Isle of Wight, I realized how lucky I was. You’re amazing. But I think if I agreed to be your girlfriend, I’d just be using you. You tick so many boxes it’s so hard to say no, but for some reason, I just don’t think we’re right for each other. I think you deserve more. And I guess I do too.”
“If this is meant to make me feel better, I’m not sure it’s really working, Ellie.”
“Sorry. I’m rambling. I just want you to know that you’re incredible and I would love to keep on casually dating you. I just don’t want a boyfriend.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. How about it?”
He sighed. “If you’d asked me a year ago, I would have thought you’re the perfect girl and jumped at the chance. But, Ellie, I want a girlfriend. I’m getting on a bit and I do just want to settle down.”
I felt disappointment collect in my tummy. “Okay, fair enough. I guess I can’t have everything.”
“I’m sorry. But, we’re all good though, right? Mates?”
“Yeah, mates.” I smiled.
He smiled back. “I wish I could have more, but I think I’d rather have you in my life than out of it, even if it just means we’re friends.”
“Me too. And if you do ever change your mind about the casual sex thing, just shout.”
He laughed. “Okay, and likewise with the relationship thing.”
“Deal. Hey, actually . . . before I leave, how about we say bye properly?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know . . .”
He stared at me blankly.
“Oh for God’s sake,” I said. “Do you or do you not want to shag me for one last time?”
He grinned at me, shaking his head ruefully. “God you’re amazing. I can’t believe I’m letting you go.”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“Fuck it—I’m still human. Let’s go to the bedroom.”
“Or we could stay right here?” I suggested, ignoring the thumping nerves in my arteries.
He kissed me in response.
35
I was lying naked on Nick’s cream couch. My pleather jacket and mismatched underwear were scattered on the wooden floorboards. He was sitting astride me with his penis poking straight out at a ninety-degree angle. It was pale against his tanned skin and I could see the outline of where his swimming trunks had been.
“You’re amazing, Ellie,” he whispered in between kisses.
I grinned and kissed him back enthusiastically. This was everything I wanted. It felt so right to be lying there naked with him, knowing that he wasn’t my boyfriend, I never had to watch a rugby game again, and—even better—from now on I was free to do this with any other guy that asked.
I lay back on the sofa and closed my eyes. He moved away from my mouth and started giving me little kisses on my neck. Then I started to feel the familiar anxiety. I opened my eyes and saw his perfect face up close to mine. He barely even had any blackheads.
The lights were on full and my very untanned skin was on show. He could see my body hair, tiny moles and lumpy skin. He could probably even feel the little hairs on my stomach that had grown there ever since I stupidly tried shaving them at age sixteen.
All I wanted to do was run and turn the lights off. Then I remembered—it didn’t matter. I didn’t need Nick’s approval. I didn’t even want him to be my boyfriend. We were just two human beings having fun together.
I felt myself relax and started to enjoy the gentle kisses. My mind wandered to the scene earlier in Maxine’s office. She’d given me a job. I had the job I’d always wanted, and I was going to get paid for it.
I gasped loudly as Nick put my nipple into his mouth and sucked it. It felt good—and the fact that I was employed made it feel even better. I closed my eyes again and smiled. Things were okay. I wasn’t a fuck-up. I might have been bitten, bled on and confronted with a Boyzilian, but I’d survived.
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