Chapter 22
22
Pat sways on his seat. He looks… odd.
As I finish my drink – which was quite strong, to be fair – I wonder how many he’s had. Do bar staff drink while they work? I wouldn’t have thought so, and he didn’t seem drunk when I got here but, oh wow. He’s swaying on the spot.
‘So you… you’re… a wedding?’ he mumbles.
‘I’m going to a wedding?’ I repeat back to him, checking that’s what he means.
‘You’re… wed… mmm…’
Okay, he’s really slurring his words now.
‘Pat, are you okay?’ I ask him.
‘I’m…’
Oh boy, his eyes are rolling into the back of his head.
‘Pat?’ I say, placing a hand lightly on his arm.
I barely touch him but it’s enough to make him wobble and after a second or two of swaying he falls off his stool.
I quickly turn to the bar, to catch the attention of another employee.
‘Can you help?’ I call out.
‘Oh, shit, not again,’ one of them says, hurrying around to our side of the bar. Another man quickly follows.
‘Come on, Pat, let’s get you upstairs,’ one of them says as they hoist him up.
‘He’s just had too much to drink, we can take care of him,’ the other says.
‘Okay, thanks,’ I reply. ‘I don’t know what happened – he was fine, he had one drink, and we were chatting away, and then he just took a turn…’
‘Don’t worry,’ the first man reassures me. ‘Happens all the time. Downside to working in a bar.’
I watch as the two of them practically drag Pat away, disappearing into a back room with him.
What the hell just happened? He didn’t seem drunk before, I had the same drink as him and I’m fine… Oh my God. He must have taken something – he must be on some kind of drugs. Wow, okay, I know I wanted someone unimpressive to take to the wedding, but turning up with someone who gets himself in this kind of state would not be the vibe. They would just feel sorry for me, or get me in rehab. I want to take (to use their vocabulary) an unsavoury date, sure, but I want to seem like I’m living my best life. Being unapologetically not what they want me to be is how I win, right?
Well, it would be, but I think I’m finally shit out of luck. What are my options? My flight is in less than forty-eight hours, so I could go alone, but not only will that make me look like a loser, I’ll be a sitting duck, braving the lot of them alone. I could not go, and stay here, but then I’ll be spending my thirtieth birthday all on my own. My mum did invite me over to Connecticut, to celebrate with them, and as lovely as it would be to see her, I don’t know, it’s expensive, and I just don’t quite feel like I fit in there. Mum has her family, Dad has his family and I just feel sort of… loose.
With nothing else to stick around for, I head for the door. It was a stupid, stupid idea, to think that I could find some random man to take to the wedding with me. I really think something is going on in my brain, some background response to turning thirty, that is making me a little crazy.
‘Hey,’ Ethan says, popping up from nowhere.
Wow, speaking of crazy…
‘Are you spying on me?’ I accuse him, cutting to the chase, because he’s obviously up to something. ‘Stalking me, too?’
‘Just a little,’ he replies with a smile.
‘Okay, Joe from You , don’t you think that’s a bit creepy?’ I ask.
‘Just a little,’ he says again. ‘But I’m hoping you’ll find it charming.’
He walks with me, as I head for the door.
‘You’ve got ten seconds to charm me,’ I tell him.
‘Okay, so…’ he begins, a quickness to his voice, like he’s certain he can give it a go. ‘When you told me you had a date earlier, I don’t know, there was something in your eyes, or your voice – something that told me you weren’t that into it, or you weren’t being honest – I don’t know. Also – although I’ve just seen in my emails that it turns out I am sticking around for a few days – I couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing you, so, you know me, a voice in my head told me to come here, and I was right to.’
‘That was more than ten seconds,’ I tell him, keeping my expression blank. ‘And I’m not sure if I’m supposed to find this romantic or weird – I suppose you saw my date get carried out almost unconscious?’
I don’t know if it’s more or less sad at this point to make clear that he wasn’t actually a date but I don’t suppose it matters all that much either.
‘I did,’ he says. ‘And, honestly, it’s super fucking romantic. Okay, so I was watching you, a bit, and maybe that’s weird. But if I hadn’t been watching then I wouldn’t have noticed that dirtbag slipping something in your drink.’
‘What?’ I blurt.
‘That guy put something in your drink,’ he tells me. ‘I saw him, as he was mixing them. Well, I was like 80 per cent sure. Seventy-five, maybe…’
‘Are you serious?’ I blurt.
‘I know, I shouldn’t have turned up, but if there is one thing that pisses me off, it’s men who let the side down, who don’t treat women with respect,’ he tells me. ‘So, I admit it, I saw red, and I could have just kicked off, but you might have thought I was doing it out of jealousy, and he could have just covered his tracks, and I could have been wrong, so…’
‘So…?’
‘So, I switched the drinks,’ he tells me, smiling slightly. ‘If he hadn’t done anything then no big deal, right, but if he had, I would rather he drank it than you.’
Holy shit. So that’s what’s wrong with him. I don’t know what I feel the strongest, upset, terrified, or really fucking angry. I think the last one is winning right now.
‘Oh my God, I thought he was just on drugs or something,’ I say.
‘I guess he was, technically,’ Ethan points out.
‘Yeah, except there’s doing a line of coke, and then there’s date-raping yourself,’ I point out.
‘Well, he really has fucked himself,’ Ethan adds. Then his expression quickly gets more serious. ‘Look, I can’t even imagine how much it must fucking suck, to be in a position where people try to take advantage of you. I’ve been fighting against guys like that my whole adult life – I can’t even imagine having to contend with them. Don’t let one arsehole rattle you, he got what he deserved. Let me walk you wherever you’re going next.’
I puff air from my cheeks.
‘Thanks,’ I say simply.
I know, nothing happened, but without people around me, looking out for me, then it could have. Now, more than ever, I appreciate what we’re trying to do at work with Redflags, and while I’m not going to use it any more (in the way I’ve been using it, anyway) I am going to go on and update Pat’s entry. He might be the biggest walking red flag I’ve seen so far.
We head out into the street, the cool air soothing my warm face, taking the edge off the tension headache I’ve managed to cook up over the last few minutes.
‘I just can’t believe it,’ I say as we stroll up the street. ‘I can’t believe he – anyone – would do something like that.’
‘Did he… did he have an incredibly detailed vagina tattooed on his neck?’ Ethan says.
‘I think it was technically a vulva,’ I joke, feeling a bit better with every step we take away from 24bar.
‘What’s the difference?’ Ethan asks. ‘And why would anyone have that there?’
‘I mean, if you don’t know the difference, the diagram might come in handy,’ I joke. ‘And your neck is useful, for a quick check in the mirror – if he was smart, he would have had it done backwards.’
‘He’s fucking backwards,’ Ethan adds.
‘Yeah, it’s always the ones you least expect, eh?’ I reply.
Almost everyone has tattoos now, and they’re not that deep, they don’t tell you anything about the sort of person you’re dealing with. But, in hindsight, perhaps each case should be judged individually. The man had the word labia on his neck, for crying out loud.
We stop outside the Corn Exchange. I love the way it looks at night, all lit up. I don’t know how to describe it, other than it feels safe here. The city feels so built up these days, with far more packed in than there was when I was younger, and I used to spend my teens aimlessly walking around the shops. Here, outside the Corn Exchange, there’s room to think. Wide-open space, bars and restaurants nearby, but not right outside. It’s peaceful, but not lonely.
I sit myself down on one of the cold stone steps – even if it’s only while I figure out what to do next. Ethan sits down next to me.
‘This is one of my favourite spots in the city,’ I tell him. ‘I love the lights, the cobbles, the stunning architecture. Leeds really is my favourite city. Although I bet everyone says that, about their home town.’
‘Nah, I think you might be on to something,’ he replies. ‘I love London but it’s so big, and so expensive. I like that, when I’m here, I can get pretty much anywhere in a few minutes.’
‘Imagine having to get the Tube to a Primark,’ I reply. ‘See that building, over there? That’s where Primark is.’
I point along Boar Lane, towards Trinity.
‘I can see McDonald’s and Burger King from here,’ he replies with a laugh.
‘Not that you’d get that far, because you have to walk past Five Guys,’ I joke.
‘True,’ he replies. ‘What if I wanted a Starbucks?’
‘Oh, well, you’d have to trek a little further for that,’ I say seriously. ‘There’s one on the first right, the second right, or left to the train station. You could be outside any of them in under five minutes.’
He laughs.
‘See, I like that,’ he tells me. ‘Everything is just… great. And I’m starting to learn my way around now. I know that my hotel is just behind us, and that the office is just over the bridge from there.’
‘Well then, you’re practically a Yorkshireman,’ I tell him.
I turn to look at him, at his kind eyes, and his soft smile. I love when he is funny and flirtatious but when that side of him goes dormant, and this side of him comes out – I’m in love, so to speak.
‘So, you’re sticking around a few more days?’ I ask, moving the conversation along.
‘Yeah, had a meeting with Jennifer today,’ he replies.
‘Oh, so she wants you now?’ I tease.
‘She always wanted me,’ he says, playfully narrowing his eyes. ‘The first version of her really wanted me.’
I sigh heavily.
‘Doesn’t that feel like a long time ago?’ I reply.
‘It really does,’ he tells me. ‘Best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had though – haven’t had a good one since.’
‘There has only been once since,’ I point out.
‘Well, last year I spent the whole day in bed, hot and sweaty, tissues everywhere – I had a terrible cold,’ he adds with a laugh. ‘What did you do?’
I sigh again.
‘I went on a date with Steve,’ I tell him.
‘Were you two serious?’ he asks me.
‘No, not at all,’ I insist.
If I’m being honest, the only reason I went on a date with Steve last Valentine’s Day was because all I could think about was the year before, with Ethan, and how amazing it was, and I was feeling down, and soooo single, and Steve asked – I don’t think I’ll say that to Ethan though.
‘We dated a bit but I only moved in with him recently, when I needed somewhere in a pinch, and he offered. No strings…’
‘Let me guess, there were strings?’ he replies with a knowing smile.
‘Oh, like I’m a puppet, and he’s my master,’ I confirm. ‘But it’s not really working out in the way he had hoped. I reckon he’s going to kick me out any day, when he realises it isn’t going to get me back.’
‘Do you really think he would kick you out, just because you won’t date him?’ he replies.
‘Not in so many words,’ I tell him. ‘But I think he might throw out an ultimatum, to see if that works on me. I’d rather sleep here.’
‘That might be a better plan in summer,’ Ethan says. ‘I can’t feel my arse.’
‘Yeah, I guess we should move,’ I reply – although I really, really don’t want to. ‘I just cannot face going back to Steve’s right now. I’m early, he’ll grill me on where I’ve been, I never know what is the wrong or right thing to say, and I really do not want to talk about tonight. I just want to forget about it.’
‘Look, do you want to come back to my hotel with me?’ he asks. ‘When I say no strings, I really do mean it. It sounds like things are intense, at home, so if you want a night off…’
‘I would love that,’ I tell him quickly, biting his hand off. ‘Thank you.’
We stand up – wow, I really can’t feel my arse – and make our way along the cobbles and under the bridge that leads us on to The Calls. And there it is, his hotel, the same hotel he stayed in last time.
‘They let you back in then,’ I say, referring to what happened the last time we were here together, but without actually mentioning what happened.
‘They must have short memories,’ he says with a smile. ‘No one mentioned it when I booked. But you will be pleased to hear that I not only don’t have a ground-floor room this time, but I’m overlooking the river. I haven’t spent much time in it, beyond checking in, but it didn’t seem like anyone could see in. Weirdly, it felt a bit like being on a cruise.’
I laugh.
‘Well, it doesn’t get much more private than a cruise ship window, does it?’ I reply.
‘Actually, I went on a cheap cruise with my mates, and we had digital windows,’ he tells me. ‘We must have been so low in the ship that we were underwater. So, where a window would usually be, they had this screen with a fake view. Of course, I was sharing a room with my mate Tommo, and you don’t get less private than that.’
I laugh.
‘Let’s just say one night he brought a girl back, and I wanted to jump out of the digital window,’ he tells me, widening his eyes for effect. ‘I ended up sleeping on a sunlounger, on the deck.’
‘I hope you were somewhere warm,’ I reply.
He purses his lips and shakes his head.
‘Right, here we are,’ he says, opening the door for me to step inside.
And suddenly I’m back in time, two years ago, feeling all the same things that I did back then. It’s like muscle memory, walking through the door, passing through reception – my body thinks it’s going to get a repeat of what happened the last time we were here. Body, you need to calm down!
We step into the lift together. I should change the subject, I know I should, but…
‘Do you make a habit of sleeping in places that you shouldn’t?’ I ask him.
I notice him smiling to himself in the mirrored lift wall.
‘Not as often as it would seem,’ he replies. ‘Although Jennifer’s office has to be the weirdest.’
We fall silent for a second again. I open my mouth to speak just as the lift doors ding, so I retreat back into the silence.
We walk along the corridor, finally approaching Ethan’s room. He unlocks the door and then steps aside, for me to head in first.
Oh, wow, what a beautiful room. I don’t know what this old building used to be but there are exposed wooden beams and pieces of old metal machinery that have been artfully preserved to give the place character. I’m like a moth to a flame when it comes to the windows though. I hurry over, trying not to make eye contact with the super-king bed as I pass it, and look outside. It really does feel like being on a boat – just one that is floating through Leeds city centre. I can see Bridgewater Place in one direction, Brewery Wharf in the other. The water below looks so flat and peaceful, with lights reflecting on it. You can tell it’s cold out there just by looking (of course, I already knew that from first-hand – or should that be first-arse – experience), but it’s so cosy in here.
Ethan stands next to me, mirroring my position, with his elbows on the windowsill.
‘It’s even more beautiful now,’ he says.
He turns to face me, his chin resting on his hands.
Every instinct I have right now is either telling me to kiss him or to run out of here and never come back.
‘What are you thinking?’ he asks me.
Should I tell him the truth? No.
‘Just about how lovely it is in here,’ I reply. ‘You?’
‘I was thinking about how much I want to kiss you,’ he tells me.
‘That did pop into my mind,’ I admit.
Ethan slowly stands up straight. Then he places his hands on my sides and lifts me up, sitting me down on the windowsill. The glass feels cold on my back so I lean forward towards him, wrapping my legs around his waist, hooking my arms around his neck. Okay, this really is like muscle memory.
He presses his face into my neck but he doesn’t kiss it, he just rubs his face up against it for a second, his hands exploring my back – almost like he’s giving me a moment to think about it and, yep, thought about it.
‘We said we would never do this again,’ I remind him – not exactly sounding like I never want to do it again.
‘I think it was more that we never should do it again,’ he clarifies, his voice super soft and silky smooth.
I chew my lip thoughtfully.
I want him. I really want him, but…
‘No, you’re right,’ he tells me – and it’s only as he says this that I realise it’s the opposite of what I want to hear.
‘You love an audience, don’t you?’ I reply. ‘Here, in front of the window…’
‘Well, the first time we did it, we were in the bathroom,’ he reminds me – as though I could forget. ‘No audience in the shower.’
I know I shouldn’t, but…
‘Maybe we should go into the bathroom then,’ I say.
Ethan picks me up gently, only to place me back on the floor. It feels like it takes an hour, to walk from the window to the bathroom, but we get there, he turns the light on and – would you believe it – there’s no shower. Just a bath.
‘Ah,’ I blurt, hoping this isn’t a sign from the universe that we need to stop this right now.
‘I mean, baths are romantic, right?’ he points out. ‘Bath? It looks big enough for two…’
‘Yeah,’ I say, not sounding entirely convinced, but I’m just being silly, right? The universe doesn’t give signs.
‘I’ll run it,’ he says. ‘You go sit through there.’
Let me tell you now, nothing kills the moment like pausing to run a bath. It’s a long pause that we do not need right now, because it’s giving me a chance to think things through.
Ethan joins me, sitting next to me on the bed.
‘The bath is filling,’ he tells me. ‘Unless you’ve changed your mind? Your face looks like it’s changed its mind.’
I laugh.
‘It’s not that I’ve changed my mind,’ I begin. ‘It’s just that… there’s a reason we said we would never do this again, but every time we do, we seem to cause trouble. Last time?—’
‘Last time we were drunk,’ he reminds me.
‘I know but, still, think of the chaos we almost caused,’ I say. ‘I like to have a drink, and a good time, but there’s something about you that just makes me absolutely nuts. Like, if you told me to jump off a cliff, and you said it while you didn’t have a shirt on, I’d backflip off the thing.’
Ethan laughs.
‘It’s like you think we’re cursed,’ he says. ‘Like we’re doomed to cause a major incident.’
‘Can you blame me?’ I reply. ‘Look what we almost did, in Jennifer’s office.’
‘That was just a freak accident,’ he reassures me.
‘It was like a Final Destination accident,’ I remind him. ‘I mean, come on, we caused water damage, then fire damage, then water damage again.’
‘Well, that last one was for the fire,’ he points out with a cheeky grin.
Honestly, I don’t even know that happened. I mean, I do, it was because we were too busy getting busy to realise we had knocked over a bottle of champagne, flooding an electric heater with the contents – which we had on, because it was cold – which started smoking and sizzling and then… it’s all a blur, I think Ethan threw water over it, to stop any sort of fire in its tracks, I managed to knock over the framed photo of Jennifer and her family while I was frantically trying to turn the power off, and it was just mess on mess, on chaos, on mess.
‘We sorted it out,’ he reminds me. ‘And no one ever found out.’
‘But if they had found out, I would have lost my job,’ I say. ‘I could have been in even more trouble than that – especially if we had caused more damage. We could have burned the place to the ground.’
‘Isn’t that everyone’s fantasy?’ he replies. ‘To burn their office down?’
I can’t help but laugh because he’s got a point.
‘We fixed, sure, but the way we fixed – it felt unhinged, what we did. It was psychotic, sociopath shit,’ I remind him.
‘It was also the coolest thing I’ve ever done, and the most alive I’ve ever felt, and just something about doing it together – I don’t know – as awful as it was, and as stressed as I was, looking back it only makes it seem hotter. And, hey, we work great together as a team.’
I mean, we did work great together as a team that night. We knew we had made a mess, and that we would be in big trouble if anyone found out, so we set about covering it up. Sure, there was no way to make everything as it was when we found it, so what we needed to do was offer an alternative narrative, a different version of events that could have brought about the same accident. It was the middle of the night and we were still drunk, so I’ll never know how we pulled it off, but some careful arranging of a window that was ‘left open’, and a plant that was knocked over, and a cup of coffee Jennifer clearly never finished (in her favourite ‘If I’m too much then go find less’ mug) tipped over in just the right (or technically wrong) way and it actually looked like a genuine accident. What’s interesting is that Jennifer must have thought it was her fault, because when I came into the office the next day there was no mention of it. She genuinely believed it was a mistake she had made, and so she covered it up for us. It really was the perfect crime and, yes, I do feel like a psycho saying that. It was also the reason we ended up swearing we would never see each other again, if that was the kind of mess we were going to make. We’d already had the incident with the blinds, and the trouble we caused on the night out before that. Thinking about it now just reminds me of how close we came to throwing it all away and for what, a shag? A few shags? A few incredible shags, fair enough, but there’s good sex and then there’s burning an office block down.
A loud thumping on the door snaps me from my thoughts. I look to Ethan, concerned.
‘Stay here,’ he tells me.
I don’t know what the problem is but I just know it’s going to be something – something that we’ve done, or caused, or happened because of us. Maybe it’s the police because they think I drugged Pat. Maybe it’s Jennifer, because she’s got me bugged, and I just confessed to the crime we made her cover up. Maybe it’s Steve with an axe. All I know is that whatever it is, it’s bad news, and it’s because we’re together.
Fuck you, universe.