Chapter 32
JADE
Sebastian didn’t give me any clues as to how I’d get there. It was a case of ‘It will happen when it needs to’. By that, I assume there’s still some unfinished business here that I need to take care of.
Shrugging on my blue towelling robe, I head to the bathroom to take a shower.
Do not think of your first morning, when Sebastian appeared.
But I can’t help it. Remembering beating his wet chest with my bare fists makes me chuckle.
He’s been so patient with me, so kind, even though I’ve said mean things to him a few times .
.. OK, I was a bitch to him on a number of occasions.
I step into the shower and pray to the Prince of Darkness as I wet my sticky hair and slowly wash it with Timotei. Please please please listen to Sebastian when he pleads my case, Lucifer. And if at all possible, if you’re feeling amenable, let us be together. Because I love him.
A hot sick feeling passes through me, and I feel like I’m going to faint. I sway against the tiled wall as my vision blackens, then rights itself again. I blink, feeling a bit spacey, as sweet-smelling suds wash down my body and swirl into the plughole. What the heck was that?
I dry off hastily, wrap my hair in a towel, and tie my robe, legs shaky after that weird turn. But I feel better after brushing my teeth.
What should I do now? Get dressed and go for a walk? Stick around here and try shutting myself in the linen cupboard to see if I can step out into the future?
I’m pondering my options as I wander down the hall to my room. But before I reach it, a sleepy Ash steps out of Rach’s bedroom, tying the belt of her flowered dressing gown. His hair looks like he’s been pulled through a bush backwards, yet there’s a smile playing around his lips.
He starts when he sees me staring at him.
‘Jesus, Jade.’ He tightens the dressing gown.
‘What the fuck, Ash?’ I hiss. ‘You’re meant to be on the couch. Why are you in Rach’s room?’
‘Uh, yeah. She wanted some company.’
My mind is reeling at the implications. Ash and Rach ...
‘Don’t look at me like that. We didn’t sleep together,’ says Ash, looking guilty. ‘We cuddled and talked. It was nice.’
I take a deep shuddering breath, gazing at his hairy bare legs.
‘Are you naked under her dressing gown?’
‘Honestly, chill,’ says Ash. ‘I’m wearing boxers. And even if I wasn’t, Rach is an adult. She can make her own decisions.’
He folds his arms with a frown, and I rub my forehead, still feeling a bit woozy. But he’s right. I have to let things happen. I can’t try to control the future, even if it means that Ash might be ...
I swallow. ‘I know, I’m sorry. I just care about her.’
Ash’s features soften. ‘I’m not going to hurt her.’
I rub my nose as my eyes prickle. ‘She’s going through something. Her mum—’
‘She told me about that...’ he interjects.
‘Then you know she’s going to need support in the coming weeks. You can’t cut and run, Ash. I mean it.’
‘I won’t,’ he says steadily. ‘She can lean on me and trust me. I’ll be there for her.’
My heart feels painful, like it’s being squeezed by an unseen fist.
‘Well, I ... I might go for a walk,’ I manage, feeling like I need to leave this conversation before I start blubbering all over Ash.
‘OK, I’m going to have a quick shower and make Rach a cup of tea.’
‘She has it white with half a sugar.’
Ash smiles. ‘Yeah, she told me.’
‘OK, well ... see you.’
‘Yep, see you when you get back.’
He saunters into the bathroom and closes the door. The shower starts up.
I shuffle past Rach’s room, but I can’t do it. I can’t not say goodbye to my mum. I knock softly and poke my head in. The room is filled with muted sunlight, and a nearby poster of Tommy Rains pouts at me.
‘Hey, Rach. I’m off for a walk since it’s nice out.’
A sleepy voice emerges from the depths of the duvet. ‘OK, Jadey. I’m having a lie-in. Enjoy your walk.’
She doesn’t mention Ash, and neither do I.
‘I will ... I ... I love you, Rach.’
There’s a movement in the duvet, and her face pops up, framed by mussed chestnut hair. Her brown eyes are curious, no doubt wondering why I’m saying that. But she says, ‘I love you too, Jadey.’
‘Bye,’ I choke out and shut the door before I collapse in a snivelling heap on her bedroom floor.
Dressing quickly in black jeans, a double-studded belt, and a neon-pink off-the-shoulder top, I check my look in the dressing table mirror.
My eyes are a mess, bloodshot and sore-looking. It’s from wearing too much kohl eyeliner, I tell myself. Scrabbling around in the dresser, I find a pair of yellow heart-shaped sunglasses, which give my room a rose-tinted glow when I put them on. Just what I need.
I let myself out of the flat, taking a long last look at my mum’s bedroom window, and try not to cry again.
This is ridiculous. I have to move on. If I wallow in the past, I’ll miss out on what’s waiting for me in the future.
Whatever that is. Besides, I need to go home—I want to go home.
I miss Netflix. I miss my iPhone. I will not think about sitting alone in my apartment, eating pizza, and looking at Sebastian’s number in said iPhone.
It will probably get magically erased anyway.
Feeling numb, I aimlessly walk around Camden until I find myself outside the Tube.
Having nothing better to do, I board the next train and sit there, rocking gently, surrounded by couples and families going about their ’80s lives.
I try really hard, but I can’t help feeling a bit sorry for myself.
At what I’ve left behind: Rach. And what I know I’m never going to have: Sebastian.
But maybe I can make the best of what I do get.
One thing’s for sure: I’m never getting a perm ever again.