Sunday 28 October
Tom
I wake up in a bed that doesn’t belong to me, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. For a second, I think it might be Alice’s, but as I look around and see the Flamingo bedspread, I realise I’ve not been that lucky. I turn to my left and spy the mass of blonde hair on the pillow. The duvet is pulled up around her face, so I can’t make that out yet.
Shit. Who is this girl?
I try desperately to trace my mind back to last night. I left after Alice basically fucking gutted me, telling me she didn’t want me, which I know is a fucking lie. You don’t kiss someone back like that if you’re not interested.
I went to another bar, had a few shots, and met some basic bitch at the bar. Ah, now I remember. Veronica. Or is it Verity? She had on a green bra and devil antlers and was all over me.
She offered me a few lines of coke in the toilet. God, why did I do it again? I’m such a dick. More shots. Some Jack Daniels and Coke. Then it goes blurry.
Jesus, I must have fucked her. Why the hell did I do that? Well, I obviously know why I did it. Because my dick rules my life. But said dick wants to be in Alice, not this woman.
She rejected me though. Told me she didn’t want us to happen, even though her kiss said different. She thinks she’s too good for me, and hey, maybe she’s right. Doesn’t stop it stinging though.
I’m pissed at myself that I wasn’t strong enough to just go home. Instead I ended up being flattered by the first bitch to push her tits into my face and now I’m here. Alice will know I didn’t come home last night. She’ll jump to all sorts of conclusions that are probably true. Just proving to her I’m a no-good piece of shit that she should stay away from.
I check my watch. Eight am. Will Alice be awake already? God, with Pickles no doubt. She’ll be pissed if she’s had to go into the communal gardens to let her have a piss.
I creep slowly out of bed, careful not to wake blondie, and throw my clothes on. There’s a used condom on the floor. Thank God, I was smart enough to wear one. I pick it up and throw it in the bin.
I walk out of the building and try to get my bearings. It doesn’t help that I’m still new to the area. I look around and search for the sea. I spot it in the distance and head towards it. Once I get to the sea front, I’ll be able to find my way home.
Forty minutes later, I put the key into the lock, fearful of her reaction. This is nuts. I’m acting like she’s my mum. Or worse, a kind of wife figure. I have nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m just a single guy out doing his business.
As soon as I let myself in, I hear Pickles scurry around the corner to meet me. At least I know someone’s happy to see me. I pick her up and cuddle her into my neck. She’s still got the most adorable puppy smell.
‘Hey, girl, how are you?’ I coo, looking into her big brown eyes.
I tentatively walk around the corner, ready to face the music. Deep breath, Tom. The only real person that can tell you off is your mum.
Alice is sitting on a kitchen chair in her jogging bottoms, a white vest with no bra, and her dressing gown over it. Fuck, I can almost see her nipples through it. She raises her eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to, it’s all on her face.
‘Yeah, yeah, where have I been? I stayed at a mates.’ I quickly explain.
She rolls her eyes. She knows as well as anyone that all my mates were with her last night. God, I hate proving her point. Maybe I am a manwhore.
‘None of my business,’ she shrugs, taking another slurp of what I smell is coffee. God, I need one of those.
‘You’re right there,’ I agree with a tight smile. I boil the kettle, trying to hide my simmering rage.
Who the fuck does she think she is being all judging? I put myself on the line last night and she shot me down. Well, some women want this. Are desperate for it in fact. I don’t know why I’ve been waiting around for a frigid redhead when there’s a whole sea of women I’m yet to bed. Brighton pussy here I come.
* * *
Monday 29th October
Alice
Tom didn’t home again last night so I was stuck looking after his dumb dog. I’ve noticed that when I’m pissed at him I refer to Pickles as ‘his’ dog, not mine or ours. I know he will have spent the night with some skank, which to be honest makes me feel sick. He’s so vile.
To think that our lips kissed and then he went straight to some whore—probably with my lipstick scent still on his lips—and kissed her. Ugh, it makes me crazy mad. Not crazy jealous you understand. Just, like angry that he’s such a slag, and some girl is going to wake up and realise she was used by Tom ‘Manwhore’ Maddens. Poor bitch.
I’m still pissed at him. Not only to cockblock me, but then to kiss me. Where the hell did that come from? And with the whole ‘if anyone is going to kiss you, it’s going to be me.’ What the fuck? Someone has issues they need to look into. So basically, he doesn’t want me, but he doesn’t want anyone else to have me. Selfish, stupid bastard.
Not that I want him to want me. I wouldn’t date that prick if he was the last man on earth. Just when I thought we might be turning into friends, he goes and pulls this.
He must have come home this morning while I was still sleeping to get dressed for work.
I hear the door creak open. I’m on the sofa with Pickles, eating Cheerios. I look like shit with scraped up hair, no make-up, and my jogging bottoms on. He drops his keys on the hallway table and scuttles in, looking far more ruffled than he did Friday night. Ironically, he looks more like Shaggy now.
‘Hey,’ he nods.
‘Hi,’ I nod back.
‘I’m going to bed.’
And that’s it. That’s the apology I’ve been waiting for.
* * *
Wednesday 31st October
Alice
The last few days have been awkward, with an underlying tension. He’s been getting home later and later each night, obviously in a bid to spend as little time with me as possible. At first I felt bad, having rejected him and all, but now I’m just pissed off. How dare he treat me like shit just because I told him no. Who the fuck does he think he is?
I’ve had a long week of taking shoe pictures in an attempt to network within the fashion industry. I’m just serving a vegetable curry to the table, unsure of when Tom’s going to return when he comes skulking through the door.
‘Hey,’ I call, as he gets trampled on by Pickles. ‘Good timing. I’ve just put dinner down.’
He comes around the corner, stroking the back of his neck. ‘Ah, sorry. I’ve already eaten.’
He doesn’t look sorry at all. In fact, he can barely look at me.
Fuck this.
I slam his bowl down onto the table. ‘Did you not think to fucking text me to let me know?’
His eyes double in size. ‘Jesus, chill out.’
‘I’ve made too much now,’ I complain, pointing to it as if it’ll prove my point and somehow make him care.
He shrugs. ‘Then you can just have it for lunch tomorrow.’
‘The lentils will get soggy,’ I shriek. Jesus, what has happened to me where I’m shrieking about soggy lentils?
‘I’m sorry, okay,’ he retorts like a grumpy teenager, ‘but I needed some meat.’
Oh, now he’s gonna throw this card at me. Make out I’m starving him. Bloody drama queen.
‘Really?’ I snarl. ‘Because you don’t sound sorry. In fact, you’ve been acting like a little bitch all week. Just because I rejected you doesn’t mean you can treat me like crap. You have to respect my decision.’
His eyes meet mine and it’s only then I see the hurt and vulnerability behind them. He looks like a lost little boy. You know, in a huge muscly body. Here I am assuming he’s throwing his toys out of the pram when in actual fact I’ve hurt his feelings.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says, sighing wearily and running his hand through his hair. ‘Things have been awkward, and I’ve been having a hard time at work. I’ll try more from now on, okay?’
It’s only then that it hits me; the reason I’m so mad. Because I’ve missed him. I’ve missed hanging out with him. Missed what has evolved into an easy kind of friendship.
‘Okay,’ I nod, glad he’s conceding so easily. Brat boy Tom I can deal with. Hurt Tom not so much.
I start eating, just to have something to do. He sits down at the sofa and takes his shoes off with a groan. Jesus, he really is knackered. Anyone would think he was working in the mines with the way he’s acting.
I desperately think of something to say to break the heavy silence. I know, the Peterborough trip.
‘Me and the girls are going to Peterborough this Saturday, so if you want to jump in the car with us you can.’ Actually, maybe he’d like me out of the way, so he can bring some tart back. ‘Or just have the place to yourself here. Up to you.’
‘Thanks. I’ll think about it,’ he nods. ‘Why are you guys going? It’s not Jack’s weekend to see Esme.’
It’s so cute that he knows their schedule. Little things like this warm my heart.
‘Yeah, we know. Don’t tell Jack or Erica, but we’re going to try to reason with Amber about loosening up on Erica.’
‘What?’ he snaps, his jaw jutting out. ‘Are you fucking mad? You girls are just going to make it all ten times worse.’
‘No, we’re not!’ I snap back. God, he doesn’t have much faith in me if that’s what he thinks. ‘We’re just trying to cool down the situation. Make her see sense.’
‘By ambushing her?’ he scoffs, leaning back in the chair. ‘How on earth does that sound like a good idea? I thought you were more practical than that, Alice.’
It hurts more than it should for him to be disappointed in me. Why do I care what a manwhore like him thinks?
‘Hey! Look, it wasn’t my idea, but I think it’s a good one. Let her see we’re not all monsters. We only want what’s best for Esme.’
‘Yeah, and you, a stranger to Esme, knows what’s best for her.’ I glare back at him. ‘I just think it’s a dickish idea. But who am I to tell you?’
I roll my eyes. ‘Whatever. Look, if you care so much why don’t you come with us? Make sure we don’t ambush her as you’re so scared of.’
He bites his lip as if mulling it over. ‘I actually think that’s a great idea. Plus, Esme hasn’t met Pickles yet.’
I roll my eyes. ‘Trust you to find the silver lining.’
But somewhere deep down I’m glad we’ll be spending the weekend together.