Chapter Sixteen #2
But instead, I realised this couldn’t be my bed because the sheets were all white and mine were pink.
I looked up, panicked, peering at my surroundings.
There was no one else next to me. No one in the room.
But it sounded like the shower was on in the bathroom.
I squinted, trying to remember where I was.
I sat up. The material I had on was softer than my dress. It smelt different, masculine.
I knew the smell right away. The sweet, saltiness of it.
I was in Freddie’s bed. I was in one of Freddie’s t-shirts.
Fuck! I leapt up, searching for my things but I couldn’t see them laid out anywhere, so I rifled through a pile of clothing the other side. It was all massive. I decided to grab a pair of joggers and just accepted I’d have to hold them up as I ran back home.
Oh, hell, I’d never done a walk of shame before.
Was I doing a walk of shame? Oh God! No. Surely not. I had a boyfriend.
It was just as I grabbed my phone and started heading for the exit that I noticed a messy sketchpad, with pieces of paper spilling out of it, left beside the mirror.
I paused, eyeing the bathroom door. The shower was still on.
I chanced it, my eyes heavy as I carefully opened the dark-red, leather cover.
Small, detailed sketches covered the pages.
Little, insignificant objects were drawn neatly.
A post box, a well-used trainer, a metal grooved bin, the start of a squirrel, a seagull.
On the next page was a large drawing of the old Brighton pier.
You could tell it wasn’t finished, the shading undefined.
But it was almost professional level skill.
Were these Freddie’s?
I kept flipping the pages to see what else there could be. Just sketch after sketch after sketch of random things, all unfinished, all just halfway done.
Then I happened upon a more refined sketch of a girl laughing.
This was the only person he had sketched.
Her eyes were open and bright despite it being in black and white, her smile lit up.
It wasn’t until I took in the freckles, the softly sloping nose and the start of the light, wispy hair that I gasped.
It was me. This was a sketch of me.
Just then the shower in the bathroom squeaked off. I panicked, quickly shutting the book, cramming one of the loose pieces back in and hoping it wasn’t noticeable. My heart was thundering. I could feel a pulse in my fingertips.
Did Freddie draw me?
And when was that? Had he taken a photo to work from? Or was it just a made-up sketch of me?
I darted for the exit. But the bathroom door opened, blocking my escape.
I stopped in my tracks, speechless. Freddie appeared with only a short towel around his waist. When he noticed me, he paused too, one arm leaning on the doorframe. A lush covering of light-brown hair ran up his stomach to his broad shoulders, and…
“Are you trying to sneak out?” he asked, his voice genuinely surprised, a drop of water from his wet fringe dripping down his nose.
I relaxed my shoulders and glared at him. “Did we…?!” I looked behind me at the bed, the sheets ruffled. This man had drawn me. What the hell did that mean? Maybe those sketches weren’t his. I didn’t have him down as an artist. He was sporty and focused on his career. He wasn’t an arty type.
Freddie frowned. “No! You collapsed down on the beach covered in sick.”
“Oh. So…”
“I carried you here, Hattie. You were in a state. You were singing all the way home, don’t you remember? Honestly, what does Sam tell you about me?”
“Not much these days. I was singing?”
“Yes. ‘The Black Parade’. You thought it was hilarious.”
I snorted. The thought of singing that song drunk while Freddie, who hated emo music, tried to haul me back to the hotel was actually quite funny. He rubbed his chin, clearly annoyed by my unserious response.
“Can I go?” I said, nodding behind him to the door.
“You want to leave here like that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the stolen joggers I had on.
I sighed. “Well, I don’t know where you put my clothes. Oh! Did you undress me?”
He didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed as he shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal and said, “I wasn’t going to let you sleep in sick.”
“Fuck,” I hissed, covering my face. “I have a boyfriend. This looks bad.”
“It could’ve been worse. There were plenty of dickheads swarming. Your clothes are in the bin. Like I said, they’re covered in sick, and they stunk. You can wear something of mine. I didn’t touch your underwear.”
Oh, but he saw it!
“Has my dumbass brother tried to call you yet?”
I took my phone out and groaned. “Hmm. Only like 100 times.”
“Seriously?”
I waved my phone at him to prove it then quickly called Sam back to tell him I was alive and that he could call off the search. I did, however, retain some of the truths regarding my whereabouts.
“Want me to drive you back?” Freddie offered.
I cringed, holding a hand to my head which was now beating like it had its own heart. “Only if you promise to drop me off a street away.”
“I want to see you in the door. You’re still drunk.”
I scoffed. “I’m fine, honestly.”
“If nothing happened, why does it matter if Sam knows you’re with me?”
“You know why,” I said, giving him a look. “And besides, I think Adam would feel…”
“Where the fuck is Adam? It’s your birthday.”
I scoffed at him. “How about you mind your own business? Why you in Brighton anyway? Thought you lived in London now.”
He nodded, raising his eyebrows at me. “I do. Except I was seeing someone…”
I cringed again. “Oh yeah. I bet she hates me.”
He shrugged this off. “Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t going to abandon you, and she had friends to go home with.” He paused, watching my face like he was hoping to read something there. I dropped my eyes, too afraid to maintain eye contact while he was practically naked.
“Can you put some clothes on, please?”
Freddie looked down. “Right. Yeah. Go in the bathroom. I have a spare toothbrush in packaging in my washbag. I’ll knock when I’m dressed, and we’ll make a move.”
It didn’t take long to realise why Freddie would carry spare toothbrushes in his washbag. Hopefully, the woman from last night didn’t harbour the ability to use voodoo dolls or I was in for a rough couple of years.
Ten minutes later and Freddie was driving me out of the hotel’s underground car park, his hair still damp. He smelt divine, musky and clean. I rolled my head back and closed my eyes, willing my brain to behave around him.
“Ahem,” he said. I must’ve fallen asleep in the five minutes it took for him to drive me back. He’d ignored my request and parked right outside the flat. I looked up at the window to see the curtain twitch. Shit.
“Thanks, I guess,” I said, taking my keys out. He’d leant me his bomber jacket as it was all he had that didn’t look excessively long on me.
As I reached for the door, I felt a tug from the keyring. Freddie had grabbed the storm cloud charm, holding it between his forefinger and thumb.
I swallowed, blinking at his stern expression.
“You kept it,” he said.
“Yeah.”
His eyes flicked to mine. My tummy dipped.
“Why?” he asked.
“You gave it to me.” I bit my lip.
He nodded and looked away. “Guess I’ll see you around then, storm cloud.”
I didn’t have any comeback. I was hideously hungover and about to get the third degree from Sara, hoping and praying Sam wasn’t there so I could change out of his brother’s clothes without him ever knowing.
“See you around.”