Monday 15th October
Alice
I wake up naturally, like I do most mornings. It’s typical that I don’t have a regular job where I need to be at a desk at nine for and yet I still wake up before eight am. I push my arms over my head and indulge in a glorious stretch, moaning from the release of my tight muscles. My hand meets something hairy. Oh my god, is a mouse in my bed? Or worse, a hairy spider? Aren’t the only hairy one’s tarantulas that bite you and leave you paralysed?
‘Aaarrrgh!’ I scream, sitting up in bed and shaking my hand in the air.
I look over to where I’m expecting to see something causing me to run out of the front door and post a petrol bomb through the letterbox.
Instead, I find a sleeping, topless Tom. What the hell is he doing in my bed? I don’t know if I’m relieved or more afraid.
He stirs, obviously from my ghoulish scream, eventually opening his eyes. I glare down at him with a hatred I feel deep in my soul.
‘Tom. What the fuck are you doing in my bed?’ I screech, using the duvet to cover me up as best as possible. Thank God, I didn’t sleep naked.
He looks around, his creased eyes slowly adjusting to the light, as if trying to remember where he is. ‘Oh yeah. Oops.’
He is unbelievable. ‘Oops! This wasn’t a fucking accident. You snuck in here in the middle of the night and got into my bed! People have been arrested for less.’
He stretches out, exposing dark-blonde hair under his armpits. ‘Oh, chill out. I needed a good night’s sleep before I start work today. Now, how about I make it up to you by making some bacon and pancakes?’
‘I’m a vegi-fucking-tarian,’ I growl, my muscles twitching with rage. ‘You bloody know this, you imbecile.’
‘Oh yeah.’ He chuckles to himself. ‘I keep forgetting bacon is meat.’
I frown. Can someone really be that dense?
‘I take it you have pancake mix though, right?’ He smiles hopefully. How can he be so carefree when he’s totally overstepped a boundary line?
‘I don’t bloody know. Isn’t it just some flour and eggs?’
He frowns. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll Google it, roomie.’
He climbs out of the bed in only his tight black boxer shorts, stretching so high he pushes the ceiling. Damn it, he really needs to put a shirt on. He’s got muscles on top of muscles. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a man look that good undressed, and the closeness of having him in my bedroom is doing strange things to me. Shit. If this is how unsettled I feel after day one, how am I going to feel after a month?
It’s only a month, Alice. I’ll keep looking for someone, maybe one of the people that couldn’t move in straightaway. Just ride this month out and then I’ll be fine and rid of Tom ‘Manwhore’ Maddens for good.
* * *
By the time I made it out to the kitchen, the place was destroyed. I’m not even being dramatic. Pancake sludge was everywhere. What I thought was flour covered every surface and much of the floor. He proudly presented me with two pancakes that were burned around the edges.
‘As a sorry gift,’ he’d said.
Well maybe it would have worked if they were edible. As soon as I put the lumpy pancake into my mouth, I knew I had to spit it out. It tasted rank. Turns out when he found I had no flour, he’d thought baking powder could be a fine alternative. You know, being that they’re both white. Fucking idiot.
Then he rushed off to work claiming he couldn’t be late on his first day, leaving me to clean it all up. To say I’m fuming is an understatement.
I need to get his bed built somehow today. I can’t have him thinking he can sleep in my bed again. Fucking pervert. I wouldn’t put it past him to have groped a boob while he had the chance. I should call the police on the man.
So I call Brooke and together we work it out, putting it together before I have to run off to photograph a newborn. Thankfully there’s a mum who liked my work so much she doesn’t care I’m now an unofficial FHM model now.
Tom best be bloody grateful.
Evelyn and Brooke attach me to a WhatsApp group titled ‘Fight for Alice’. Jesus, with those two I dread to think what it could be. Someone starts typing so I wait patiently.
Brooke: Me and Evelyn have been talking
Evelyn: And we think we need to have a word with the police about those photos.
Brooke: Yeah, I keep getting them emailed to me. And no offence, babe, but there’s only so many times I can look at your tits. Plus, Nic says he’s having trouble getting the site shut down. Whenever he thinks he’s cracked it, it ends up being back up within the hour.
Evelyn: He shouldn’t be able to get away with this!
Me: Okay, I’m in. What’s the plan?
* * *
Tom
The first day at my new job was a bitch. What they failed to tell me in the interview is that I have a female boss. Now, before you start shouting about feminism and equality in the work place, I’m not against women being above me. Or under me for that matter. But this woman doesn’t like me. I could tell it the moment she laid eyes on me.
Bernice Shuttlecock. That’s right. Her surname is shuttlecock. And she insists on everyone calling her Mrs Shuttlecock. Every time I say it I can’t help but get a stupid grin on my face and have to literally bite my tongue to stop from laughing. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t like me?
Anyway, she’s in her early fifties, wears fishnet stockings far too inappropriate for her age, and she’s strict. She expected me to know all their product lines off by heart on the first day and kept trying to trip me up. Then she made it even weirder by checking me out when I dropped my notebook. Freaky.
So, I’ve brought home the catalogue and I intend to study the hell out of it. I hate being made to look stupid.
Then I remember I’m going to have to face Alice and her wrath when I get in. I hesitate at the door, wondering if I should go for a quick pint first. No. I need a clear head to learn. I take a deep breath, broaden my shoulders and walk in.
A gorgeous smell assaults my nostrils. Something is cooking, and it smells awesome. It’s the first time I’ve actually missed my mum since being here. She likes to feed her little prince. My stomach rumbles. God, I’d love nothing more than a homemade dinner by Mum right now.
‘Honey, I’m home!’ I shout as I walk down the corridor and into the open plan kitchen/living room.
She’s dressed in grey sweatpants with a black tank top on, no bra. Shit, they may be small tits, but they’re pert as fuck, her nipples straining against the fabric. Do not get a boner. Do NOT get a boner.
‘Hey,’ she says absentmindedly as she bends over the worktop, pen in her mouth, trying to figure out a crossword. God, how I’d love to bend her over.
‘I didn’t realise people under sixty did those.’
Her eyes flare. God, I love pissing her off. It excites something deep inside me.
‘Some of us like to exercise our brains, not just our muscles. You should try it some time.’
I snort and hold up the catalogue. ‘Yeah, well I’ve got to learn the product codes for this entire thing. If that’s not working your brain, I don’t know what is.’
She grimaces. ‘How was your first day?’
‘Rough.’ I sigh. ‘My boss hates me.’
This news seems to make her happy, a smug smile gracing her perfect lips. ‘You sound surprised. Not everyone falls in love with you the minute they meet you, you know?’
I snort a laugh. ‘Tell that to the female population of Peterborough.’
She rolls her eyes. ‘Anyway, you’re gonna be happy with me.’
‘Really?’ I enquire, a bit too eager. I have to lighten the mood. I plaster a grin on. ‘You’ve decided I can pay my half of the rent with sexual favours?’ She grimaces in disgust. I’ve never seen someone look so disgusted. ‘It’s a good plan. You need to work off some of this tenseness.’ I poke her in her side.
She flinches overdramatically. ‘Don’t touch me, Tom.’
Wait a sec. Is she ticklish?
‘Is someone scared of the tickle monster?’ I joke, flexing my fingers threateningly in the air.
Her sea-green eyes blaze. ‘I mean it, Tom, fuck off. I’m not in the mood. I had to clean up your shit show of a pancake mess this morning. Which brings me to another point.’
I grab the stool and sit down, ready for a lecture. ‘Okay, shoot.’
‘Don’t tempt me,’ she mutters under her breath. ‘Okay, first of all, me and Brooke have fixed your bed.’ My mouth drops open in disbelief. Girls doing DIY. That sounds like some awesome porn. ‘So, no more sneaking into my bedroom at night. The next time you do, I’ll be calling the police.’
I scoff a laugh and put my hands up in protest. ‘Okay, cuddle bunny. Understood. But don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy the spooning.’
She grits her teeth and chooses to ignore that one.
‘Second, I’m guessing if that’s how you attempt to cook pancakes, you have no experience with cooking?’
I hold my palms up. ‘Guilty!’ She rolls her eyes. ‘Hey, I can’t help it that I have a mum who loves me and wants to make sure her strapping son eats well.’
‘Your mother has done you no favours. She’s made you useless.’ That hurts more than it should. ‘So, I’ll be doing the cooking around here. I don’t want you to do anything harder than toast some bread. Am I understood?’
‘Yes, Miss,’ I joke giving her a soldier salute. God, this is amazing. First, she’s fixed my bed, now she’s going to cook for me. I picked the right roomie for sure.
‘But you’ll be doing the washing up, and the cleaning of the kitchen.’
Ugh, just when I thought it was going well.
‘If you don’t know how to wash pans I’ll stand over you and instruct,’ she adds sarcastically.
‘Will you have a whip?’ I joke, giving her my best sexy smoulder.
Another glare. She’s too easy to wind up.
I open the catalogue and start trying to memorise everything. I now work for a consumer electronics company so it’s a load of TV’s, DVD players, and set top boxes. Possibly the most boring job in the world, but the pay is good.
Before I register how much time has passed, she’s putting a dinner in front of me and sitting down on the other side of the kitchen table.
I look down at my curry. God, it looks and smells amazing.
‘Thanks!’ I take my fork and dig in. It’s delicious, but something isn’t right. ‘This chicken tastes different. What have you done to it?’
Oh God. I knew she was being too nice. She’s poisoned me, hasn’t she? I’m going to fall to the floor clutching at my throat as foam falls from my mouth. Until I take my last breath, as Alice looks over me with a sick, satisfied smile.
She smirks. ‘That’s because it’s Quorn, bonehead.’
I frown. ‘Quorn. What the fuck is Quorn?’
She sighs, as if exhausted by me. ‘A meat alternative. I’m a vegetarian, remember?’
Ugh, she’s feeding me fake meat. That is so evil.
‘Wait, wait, wait. So because you’re a vegetarian, that means I’m no longer allowed to eat the good stuff?’
She shrugs. ‘You can eat meat; it’s just that all my meals won’t have any. But feel free to put steak cutlets in with your cereal.’
I huff. ‘Look, I’m not saying this isn’t delicious, but I’m a growing lad. I need protein.’
She rolls her eyes. ‘Jesus, Tom. Open a book once in a while. Quorn is full of protein as are the chickpeas and beans.’
‘So, you’re saying my muscles aren’t going to waste away?’ I still don’t believe her.
She scoffs. ‘Don’t worry, muscle man, they’re safe.’
I look back down at the catalogue, dreading diving back in after washing up.
‘How are you getting on?’ she asks nodding towards it.
‘Shit. It’s hard enough remembering all of the products, but they want us to learn the product codes too, and it might as well be fucking Chinese to me.’
She takes the catalogue from me and studies it a bit, her forehead wrinkling in concentration. It’s kind of adorable. Shit, maybe she has poisoned me. Since when do I find birds adorable?
‘Okay, I think I’ve got it.’
‘Got what?’ I ask, swallowing down my last delicious mouthful. The girl can cook, I’ll give her that.
‘Got the way they code stuff. Like here.’ She points to a TV. ‘GTVR2DVSTB015. So, G stands for the brand, then TV means TV, duh. R2 is the model number. DV means built in DVD player. STB means it has set top box functionality. And then 015 is the year it was made.’
I look back at her in amazement. ‘You worked that all out in two minutes? I’ve been staring at those codes all day.’
She shrugs. ‘You just have to think about what the codes mean and it’s easy enough. Like here, take a guess what an Alva branded TV with set top box functionality would be?’
‘Okay, it’s Alva so A... TV... STB?’ I guess, feeling stupid.
‘Yes!’ she says punching the air far too excitedly. ‘And it’s 016 because that’s the year it was made.’
This actually makes some fucking sense.
After showing me how to wash up to her standards (fussy bitch) she spends all night quizzing me, and by midnight she only needs to point to a product picture and I’m shouting out the code like a trained monkey.
‘Thanks, Alice. Who knew you’d be helpful with shit like this.’
‘Not just a pretty face,’ she smiles, flicking her hair over her shoulder. It’s just about flickable length.
‘Not even that,’ I wink, bursting out laughing.
She curls her lip up in anger, but her eyes say something else. Did I hurt her feelings? I was only taking the piss, having a bit of banter.
‘Just when I think you might be an okay human being.’ She jumps up, goes to her room and slams the door. Whoops.