Chapter Thirteen
Thirteen
The time he found my daytime knickers
Mandy, Sam’s mum, had decided to stick around for most of the day on Sam’s twenty-first birthday.
We’d gone for lunch during the day and to a late-afternoon comedy show at the theatre.
But she kept promising to hide in her room once our friends arrived.
Freddie, although staying with his mum over Christmas and New Year, like every year, despite the tensions, opted out of joining us. I mean, Sam also didn’t invite him.
“Mum, you don’t have to do that,” Sam said. “You can hang out. We’re not embarrassed by you anymore.”
“I was never embarrassed by you, Mandy,” I pointed out.
“Suck up,” Sam muttered.
Mandy waved her hands as she finished filling the dishwasher, before ringing a cloth to wipe down the sides. “I won’t be able to stay up until midnight anyway. If I need something, I’ll pop down, but I haven’t got the energy for you lot.”
Sam foraged through the cupboards for the big bowls so he could put out our carefully thought-out party buffet for the evening which consisted of six different flavours of crisps, breadsticks and one crappy selection of dips.
I was carefully taking out the champagne glasses from the top cupboard and placing them on the side.
Mandy paused in the doorway to watch us. I could tell she wanted to say something. I had to look away so as not to smile.
“Mum you’re staring,” Sam said, not even looking up from the table as he emptied a bag into a bowl with zero finesse.
“I was just thinking…”
“Oh God. Save our souls.”
“Sam…” I mumbled. I could never get away with mocking my mum like he did. He just rolled his eyes in response.
“Your brother is still here…”
“Ugh. No. Freddie isn’t joining us. I thought he was going back to his flat tonight anyway. Doesn’t he usually go and watch the fireworks in the city?”
Mandy sighed. “He decided to stay another night.”
“How’s that my problem?”
“You could have a drink with him.”
“Mum…”
She raised her hands in resignation. “I just think, despite everything, you boys should be brothers. You should stick together.”
“He blew that though when he spoke to Dad again, didn’t he?”
“Forget I asked,” she said, waving her hands.
I was so awkward whenever there was something family-related going on in the Harrisons.
For the most part, my presence alone would be enough to put a stop to any big row, but this didn’t feel like my business.
I found a clean, dry cloth and pretended to polish the glasses.
Not that anyone who was invited tonight gave a toss about how sparkly they’d be.
I think the issue with Mandy was that she liked having Freddie there for Christmas and New Year, but in the same breath, she hadn’t fully forgiven him for speaking to his dad as much as he did.
I’d heard he’d even funded a deposit on a city flat for Freddie.
Sam was livid as he’d never get the same – especially now he’d gone full non-contact with his dad.
There was too much resentment for them to all coexist for that length of time and yet they did it anyway.
I, for one, was not sure how I felt about Freddie joining us.
Adam would be here shortly, having cut his ski trip short to spend my twenty-first birthday with me.
His flight had landed two hours prior, and his brothers were giving him a lift to Sam’s.
And yet the mention of Freddie was what was giving me nervous flutters in my stomach. I wasn’t prepared.
Prepared for what? Why did I feel the need to prepare?
Sam groaned. “Fine. Whatever. If he joins us, I’ll just pretend he’s not here.”
Lucky him. I’d never had that skill in my repertoire.
Mandy slunk off to her room with copious amounts of wine and snacks for what she described as her ‘cosy lock-in’.
I went to Sam’s room to get ready. I prepared the black, shimmery playsuit I was going to wear and hung it up on the back of his wardrobe then grabbed the towel Mandy left out for me and shot across the hall to use the shower.
Once I was done, I contemplated pulling my clothes back on but there was no window in the main bathroom which meant it was extra steamy.
It would’ve been a pain to haul my jeans back on over my damp skin.
Instead, I wrapped the towel around myself and peeked into the hall.
The main light was on, and I could hear the TV in Mandy’s room.
I was safe.
Wrong.
The second I closed the bathroom door, Freddie’s opened.
“Sam, what have I told you about showering until you’re a fucking prune… Oh.” Freddie paused. His eyes latched onto my bare legs. He blinked away. “Er. Sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“I… am not sure…”
“What did you do wrong?”
Freddie fixed his eyes firmly on the ceiling. “I thought you were Sam.”
“Rude.”
He pursed his lips to prevent a laugh. “Like I said, I’m sorry. Terrible mistake. I was just hopping in the shower.”
“Good. I’m just going to get some clothes on.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
I stepped sideways, carefully, my damp hair dripping down my neck.
I was impressed with my performance, sensationally so.
I’d done very well. Performed calmly under intense pressure.
I was so proud of how I quipped at Freddie like it was no challenge at all.
Like I hadn’t been telling myself to act cool the whole time in the shower.
Preparing conversations I could have with him tonight to show how unbothered I was around him.
Go me.
Wrong again.
I was so distracted, I crashed straight into Sam’s bedroom door, the towel becoming loose and half-falling around my ankles.
The bundle of clothing I was hanging onto fell to the floor.
I managed to keep hold of one end but there was definitely some side boob on show.
“Fuck,” I muttered, trying and failing to get a grasp on the damn round doorknob.
I was flailing. A pathetic mess, honestly.
“Let me get that for you,” Freddie muttered, somehow knowing exactly the predicament I was in while also keeping his eyes on the ceiling.
“It’s ok, I can…”
“Here,” he said, his voice right by my ear, low and husky, as he carefully twisted the handle. The door swung open, and I clambered to get the towel back around my damp, naked body.
It could’ve been a second. Maybe even a nanosecond.
But I found myself searching for his gaze, those wild, green eyes that made my tummy flip.
And he seemed to do the same thing. A perfect friction hung between us, a long, delicious pang of awareness swept through me, fizzing from my ears to my toes.
I watched him swallow a lump, his throat at eye level.
And then he was gone.
I whirled into Sam’s room, closing the door behind me, hovering for a moment, my hand covering my mouth as I let out a nervous giggle. I heard the bathroom door close on the other side of the hall and took a calming breath.
Thirty minutes later, after I’d dried my hair and begun applying make-up, now in my playsuit, Sam’s girlfriend, Alice, knocked at the door. “Hey, Hattie. You decent?”
“I am now.”
She came in, a pair of my comfy day knickers hanging from her finger.
Alice was cool for the most part. She’d known Sam and I for years through school, so she was well aware of how little a threat I was to their relationship.
She was also a good fucking laugh. Which is a critical requirement if you’re dating the biggest goofball in town, AKA Sam Harrison. “Are these yours or Sam’s?” she asked.
“Oh my God,” I spluttered, snatching them from her hand. “Where did you find them?”
“Hanging on the door. I thought you were using it like a sock for privacy.”
“No. Oh my God!” I sniggered. “Who uses knickers for that?”
She smiled, her hazel eyes wide with humour. “I thought you were.”
“Nooo! Gross.”
“Can you explain why your knickers are hanging on my boyfriend’s door then?” She was joking but trying to play it off as a serious question. “Because, I’m not going to lie, this is suspicious.”
Oh hell. “I must’ve dropped them in the bathroom…”
Alice snorted. “And someone hung it there?”
“Probably Mandy,” I added quickly but my heartrate was racing.
Only one other person had been in the bathroom…
He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t have found my knickers and then just hung them on his brother’s door.
If I had been a braver woman, I would’ve marched across the hall to demand his reasoning. Except I wasn’t.
I was more of a sweep it under the rug and hope it goes away kind of person. Alice watched me squirm, raising her eyebrows. “Good?” she asked.
“Totally.”
“Great. Can you help me with my dress?” she asked. I was grateful for the change in conversation.
An hour later and people were arriving. Sara introduced me to her new boyfriend who initially seemed fairly normal until he opened his mouth and turned out to be one of those manically posh Made in Chelsea types.
“He buys good gifts,” she explained before waltzing off to the kitchen with the magnum of champagne he’d insisted on bringing with him.
Adam was chatting with Sam and Alice in the kitchen as the evening went on, and I went from living room to kitchen and back again to make sure I was talking to everyone.
The thought of turning twenty-one was hanging over me in this weird, uncomfortable way.
I’d tried to explain it to Adam before. How turning eighteen was fun.
Sure, you’re an adult now, but not really.
You’re still in your teens and everyone refers to you as a child.
Nobody expects you to be sensible or make good decisions.