Chapter Sixteen
Sixteen
The one where he carried me home
After university, Sara and I lived together for a few years in a shabby flat in Brighton City Centre.
I worked a retail job in the shopping mall, trying to figure out what I was going to do with my art degree.
Sara was practically a genius and was back at university studying business economics.
And so that little place was all we could afford.
When the wallpaper would peel from the damp walls, we’d use gorilla glue to put it back up because our landlord, practically unaware of our existence, rarely responded to our pleas for help.
The positive was that he didn’t care if we threw a New Year’s Eve party.
That New Year’s Eve, Sam was mixing a punch bowl on the kitchen side which had very limited prep space, whilst Sara set up the speakers on the windowsill.
I had been trying to reach Adam all day to wish him a lovely evening, but he’d been missing my calls.
He was invited out to the slopes in the French Alps by one of his new colleagues on the graduate scheme.
I wasn’t bitter about it… Ugh. Ok, I was.
But I also wanted him to succeed, and he convinced me these excursions were basically networking. It was all about who your friends were in his industry.
There was just something about not being invited that made me feel hollow and I couldn’t work out why.
I’d seen a lot less of Adam since he’d ventured into London to start his career for one of the top banking firms. And that was ok.
We had to be independent. We were still too young to be in each other’s pockets all the time.
I trusted him and he trusted me. I chose not to follow him to the city right away, knowing that the seaside towns were where I felt at home.
Besides, he promised to visit every weekend which he mostly did.
But not prioritising my birthday that year stung.
To make matters worse, Sam had a new girlfriend who didn’t like me. Sara was busy chewing (literally) on a male stripper’s ear she’d met one night out clubbing. And Priya was in Thailand for a beach party, so wouldn’t be coming. I felt lonely and miserable.
I started to drink faster, washing back whole glasses of punch in one. At just before midnight, the flat felt too small, I was insensibly drunk, and a weird friend of Sam’s was hitting on me.
“Do you like COD?” he asked.
“With chips?”
“No. Like the game.”
“I think cod is fish, not game,” I pointed out, to which he pulled a face.
I knew he meant the actual game, but I didn’t want him to feel like we were connecting. Then he put his hand on my thigh.
“I have a boyfriend,” I said, nudging him off me.
“So? He isn’t here, is he?”
“He will be in a bit,” I said, smirking. And the horrible knobhead decided to respect the man he didn’t know, who wasn’t even here, instead of the woman who clearly wasn’t interested.
The next thing I knew, I latched eyes on my cousin who was necking shots with some other random guy I’d never met. Was this even my party anymore?
“Dylan!” I said, marching over. “What’re you doing?”
“I’m drinking.”
I leant on the wall beside him, crossing my arms. “I don’t remember inviting you.”
“I just assumed you’d be having a party. And I wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”
“No, you didn’t. You haven’t even spoken to me.”
“Ok. But I was going to.”
“No, you weren’t. You just wanted free booze.”
“Ok. Fine. I want some free booze. But I’m family, Hattie, so you have to be nice to me.”
“That’s not a thing you can use against me. You can’t just rock up to my flat, uninvited, with random strangers.”
Tanned stranger scoffed. “Who is this diva?”
“This diva lives here. This is my flat.”
Dylan made an irritated sound. “Can you just chill please? We were having fun.”
“Wow,” I said.
That was my cue to leave. I made my way down to the seafront, only two blocks away, to watch the fireworks light up the city. Not the smartest move for a girl to go out drunk on her own. But I wasn’t feeling very smart.
I was moody and irritable. My New Year’s Eve wasn’t going the way I’d envisioned it for the past few weeks.
The night sky was clear enough that the stars were shining bright as I took a seat on an icy bench down on the seafront. As the clock struck midnight, I wondered if anyone at the flat had even noticed I was gone. After another ten minutes into my birthday, I realised they didn’t care.
Nobody walking by paid me any notice in my glimmering dress and bare legs. I probably looked like a stray from one of the clubs down below on the beach in the converted boat storage buildings.
I grabbed my keys in my pocket and held tight.
A weapon of sorts. If anyone tried to bother me, you bet I was going to key them to death.
I took them in my hands and examined the little storm cloud charm Freddie had given me two years before.
I didn’t really wear bracelets, so I repurposed it into a keyring.
Something about being in the cold night air was sobering in a dull and miserable way, so I made my way down the steps to the beach.
A few hundred metres further and I was at our favourite club, Dices.
Mark, one of my day shifters at the store, worked the doors during the night, so I ran to him to bypass the queues and see if he’d let me in.
“All alone?” he asked, looking over my shoulder.
“Friends are inside,” I lied.
He nodded and gave me another suspicious glance like he didn’t believe me. I was definitely swaying. “Alright, hang on. I’ll see if I can get you in. It’s meant to be tickets only, though.”
With that, he strode into the building, leaving one guy on the door, fielding a long, shivering queue of people who stared at me with disdain. I didn’t care. I could hear the buzz from inside and wanted to let loose.
Mark popped his head out the door and waved me in.
“Can you see them?” he asked, as someone stamped my hand.
“Who?”
He frowned. “Your friends?”
“Oh.” I made a face. “Yeah, totally. They’re over there. Thanks, Mark!” I said before darting away to the bar where I paid well over the odds for shots.
I was fine.
I was a grown woman.
I didn’t need taking care of.
Besides, the one man who was meant to give a shit about me on my birthday clearly didn’t. So, I yelled, “FUCK IT!” and necked them all before running to the dancefloor and just bloody going for it. Rage dancing.
I felt queasy pretty quick and made for the ladies, except I don’t remember making it at all.
I do remember being placed on a long red leather sofa.
I remember someone attending to me like I was a child.
And I really remember the face that crouched down to my level, with sharp, green eyes that made me want to squirm and that deep voice that said, “Happy birthday, storm cloud. What the hell are you doing? Where’s Sam? ”
I shrugged. “His girlfriend hates me.”
“Right… And Sara?”
“Stripper guy,” I slurred.
“Ok… I’ve forgotten your other friend’s name. The one with the black hair.”
“Thailand.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Alps.”
He muttered an expletive. “So, you’re here alone?”
“What you going to do with her?” another voice asked. Much more feminine, much more impatient and annoyed.
“I guess I’ll take her back to the hotel. Sober her up,” Freddie replied.
“Why? She got herself like this. It’s hardly your problem.”
“Trust me, she’s my problem.”
“I’ll walk home; I’m fine,” is what I think I said but Freddie just frowned in response.
“You’ll what?”
“Walk home.”
“Wa hun?”
“Yeah!” I tried to stand and push past him, not wanting to cause a rift between him and this – wow, beautiful – woman he was with, but Freddie was holding my arms and had a hand wrapped around my waist.
“Ok. Not happening. I’m taking her back to my room.”
“Are you kidding?” the woman said, eyes wide in disbelief.
“She clearly needs to be looked after. I don’t know what’s gotten into her, but this isn’t normal. She can barely stand.”
Mark popped up out of nowhere. “Oh, are you Hattie’s friends? Good thing she found you; I’m afraid this one’s a bit too drunk.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” Freddie frowned. “And yeah, I’m her best friend’s brother. I’ll take her home.”
“Sam’s brother?”
“That’s me. I’m Freddie. You can call him if you need to.”
Mark waved him off. “Nah, mate. You’re good. I’ve got three more drunks to get home. Have a good night.”
“I’m not drunk,” I argued but whatever slurred words Freddie heard just made him laugh, exasperated. He stopped briefly at the closet booth to grab his coat, propping me against the wall as the woman he was with left with another group of people, giving me one final, disappointed look.
I mean, I had just ruined her night with Freddie Harrison, so I couldn’t blame her.
She must’ve hated my guts.
Freddie returned to me, placing his rigid, long, dark coat over my shoulders before encouraging me to wrap one arm around his neck so he could help me back outside. I was drunk but I could still feel the warmth of his fingers against the soft skin at my hip and the tiny flames that flickered there.
As soon as the fresh sea air hit my face and the icy mist glazed my skin, I felt my insides rising. I fell to my knees on the pebbles and watched all the alcohol empty from me. Freddie managed to save most of my hair from getting covered.
I vaguely remember staring up at a clear, starry night sky and listening to the chop of waves crashing and retreating while Freddie hovered over me, running a hand through his hair.
The next thing I knew, I was in a bright hotel room. I held a hand over my eyes, groaning. My body was in tatters. Had I been run over?
I groaned. The sun was pushing through the thin blinds, the seagulls cawing into the wind in a way that rattled my brain. I rolled over, pulling the duvet over my head and hoping I would just fall asleep again.