Chapter 27 Eighteen months earlier
What the hell have I done?
I stay perfectly still, not daring to open my eyes and look to the left side of the bed to face up to what happened.
Cold cotton brushes against my skin, reminding me I’m naked under the sheets.
I’d like to fix that by putting on the thickest pyjamas I own, but it would mean stopping pretending I’m asleep, and that I can’t do.
He’s awake now – it must have been his shuffling next to me that woke me.
I wait for him to get up, to quickly dress and creep out of my bedroom, but he doesn’t get out of bed.
Instead, he shuffles so he’s sitting, and he waits.
It becomes even more excruciating lying here pretending to fake sleep while I’m sure he’s watching me than it is to face up to him. I open my eyes, and I’m right. He’s looking down at me with a sleepy grin on his face.
‘Good morning,’ he says, sliding back down the bed, rolling on his side to get so close we’re touching and putting an arm around my waist – underneath the cover – like it’s the most natural movement in the world. I can’t help but go completely rigid, and he withdraws his hand.
‘Sorry.’
‘Fuck,’ I say when I’m as far as I can be away from him on the bed without falling off. ‘This is bad. So, so terribly bad. I can’t believe how much we ended up drinking. I barely remember what happened,’ I lie, ‘but it shouldn’t have.’
The smile on his face lessens, but it doesn’t disappear. ‘I don’t know. Shouldn’t it?’
‘No, absolutely not,’ I tell him, and it’s my turn to sit up.
I drag the duvet up with me to keep as much of my body covered as I can, and I try to not look at his toned calves now they’re exposed.
‘This was stupid. So unbelievably stupid. You could get sacked for this. I could get sacked for this. Oh my God.’
‘No one is getting sacked,’ he says calmly.
‘OK, maybe not, but as well as you being an experienced teacher who was meant to be looking out for a newbie, you’re the first friend I’ve made at school, and I’ve gone and ruined it.’
‘You haven’t.’
‘Yes, I have. You’ve kept me sane since I started. Without you, I’d have definitely quit teaching by now. You’ve been amazing, and I’ve blown it.’
‘Well, yeah, I can’t disagree with that.
The saving your arse, not the blowing it bit.
’ He’s grinning at me, all playful and mischievous, and it hits me how amazing he looks in the morning.
If I moved closer to him, we could carry on where we left off last night before we fell asleep, exhausted, in each other’s arms. My body wakes up to that, to the memory of last night. I ignore it.
‘Sex and friendship don’t mix, and sex and work friendships never ever mix,’ I tell him.
‘It’s a recipe for messiness and awkwardness, and that’s the last thing I want.
Especially when you’ve been such a good friend.
Last night was a huge mistake. If I was the one who started this, I’m really sorry. ’
I know it was both of us. There are parts of the night before that are blurry, but not that bit, not that first kiss. Not what came after.
His expression changes, and he begins to move. He sits on the end of the bed, and I notice he’s more dressed than I am. At least he’s wearing boxers.
‘It wasn’t you,’ he says flatly, willing to take the responsibility. If I wasn’t so mortified, I’d be touched.
‘Oh. It doesn’t matter. Let’s just forget the whole thing ever happened. We’re friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be. We have to promise each other we’ll never mention this again. OK?’
‘Got it,’ he says quietly.
‘Good. Now, I’m kind of naked over here, so don’t turn round.’
I shimmy out from under the covers and drop to the floor, scrambling through last night’s clothes to retrieve my underwear and reaching for a hoody and pair of shorts hanging over my chair.
Once I’m dressed, I take the chance to bolt out of the room.
I lean against the shut door to try and steady myself before heading to the kitchen, where I make a cup of tea and try to act like it’s a normal morning and my mind isn’t full of the flashbacks of how amazing last night was, and how no one has ever touched me like Elliot Drake.
By the time he comes out of my room wearing the creased shirt from last night, I’m able to look at him. I even give him a smile like him being here is fine. No big deal.
‘See you at work tomorrow?’ I say sunnily.
‘Yeah. See you then,’ he says, before leaving the flat.
A sound outside his window wakes me from a deep sleep.
I don’t mind. My body is still thrumming, and falling back into the memories of the hours we spent last night is better than any dream.
We’d gone from slow and intense to fast and wild and all the way back again.
We’d spent all night finding new ways for our bodies to blend together, and I’d laughed when Elliot had said there were so many things he’d like to do to me while barely able to keep his eyes open.
When I told him I was sure there was nothing else left, he laughed and said ‘Oh, Lizzie,’ before falling asleep with his arm around my waist.
I want to stay exactly where I am, in this warm, safe cocoon I’ve built with Elliot, and I hate that we’re waking up on Monday morning.
This should have happened on a Friday night so we could have had all weekend together.
Or better still, at the start of the school holidays when we could have enjoyed uninterrupted weeks living in his bedroom.
We could call in sick today and stay here, not leaving the bed apart from trips to the kitchen for snacks.
I’d do it in a flash, but I know Elliot wouldn’t.
He couldn’t live with the guilt. At least it’s still early.
The light spilling in from the crack between his curtains is as weak as milky tea.
We don’t need to be up for hours yet, and there’s a lot we could do with those hours.
My hand reaches out and hits cold fabric.
I turn on my side, the brush of the sheets against my bare skin making my nerve ends tingle.
I open my eyes properly. It’s light enough to make out that he’s not next to me, so I sit up and look for him in the room, call out for him, but there’s no response.
‘Elliot?’
I get up and after putting my underwear back on and a T-shirt El’s left on the floor, leave the bedroom to look for him, craving his touch again.
The spell is broken the moment I walk into his kitchen and spot one of Teddy’s bobbles on his worktop. Moving into the bathroom and spotting her toothbrush next to his is like having cold water poured down my back.
My body’s been keeping my focus squarely on how amazing last night was, but as soon as I see Teddy’s things in his flat, my focus zooms out and I see again the terrible decisions I’ve made to get me to this point.
Teddy and Elliot’s break up is so fresh, he’s not even had time to get rid of her stuff.
I bet some of his clothes still smell of her perfume.
Elliot might be single – a point I was only too happy to remind myself last night – but this is so new.
Too new. And the worst thing is I’ve not even spoken to Teddy yet.
I don’t know what will hurt her more: that I’ve slept with Elliot or that I’ve not spoken to her about it.
The decent thing would have been to ring her as soon as I kissed Elliot on Saturday afternoon.
Now it’s Monday morning, we’re way past a kiss, and she has no idea.
I’ve spent so many years telling myself one of my greatest strengths is how good of a friend I am, but then I go and do this.
It hurts that I’ve proved myself wrong so spectacularly.
As much as I wanted to spend these hours before work with Elliot, I know the most important thing now is that I put this right, and the only way to start doing that is to start being honest. I have to talk to her.
Not just about last night, but everything.
How hard it’s been seeing them together, how much I’ve wanted him but always been too scared to do anything about it.
Only then might we be able to find a way to muddle through this mess.
I plan to tell Elliot this before I leave, but he’s nowhere to be found. Confused, I check the time. It’s just gone six. Early but not too early for him to have gone into work. If he has, it’s a good thing. We can talk later. For now, I can focus on Teddy and on finding the courage to call her.
I return to the bedroom to get dressed, and that’s when I see it.
Elliot cast off my clothes all over his bedroom last night, and I expect to be picking them up from his floor, but instead, they are on his chair in a neatly folded pile.
On top of that pile is a note. My heart plummets when I read it.
I’m sorry.
I read it again and again. Notice how there’s no kiss at the end, no warmth there.
Last night was perfect. So perfect we agreed we should have been doing this from the start, that it was madness not to.
I can’t understand the change, but it makes me feel cold and suddenly ridiculous to be standing in his bedroom in my underwear.
I go to the bathroom to take a shower, and the whole time I’m in there, I push down the urge to cry.
Him being Teddy’s ex makes this a mess, but it’s my mess, not his.
I’m not sure we’ll ever get past it, that we’ll ever be able to be together, but for the first time since we first slept together, I’ve accepted that I want to try.
Only he’s gone, and he’s sorry. As I get ready for work, I tell myself I’m reading too much into it.
There’s every chance he had an early meeting this morning, or he overslept for something and wrote it in a mad panic rushing out the door.
I try to believe that there’s nothing more to it, that I’ll see him soon and everything will be fine, but I still can’t get rid of the ache in my chest.
Once I’m in my car outside his flat, I try to call Teddy, but it goes to voicemail again. She’ll probably still be in bed, and I’m hardly going to leave her a voice message outlining what I’ve done. It’s going to have to wait until after work.
I start my workday with a weight on my chest which only grows heavier as more hours pass without owning up to Teddy.
By the time my pupils go home for the day, I’m desperate to follow them out and to finally try and make a start sorting this mess out.
I rush through my final jobs of the day, but just as I’m packing up my laptop there’s a knock on my classroom door.
‘Come in,’ I say, neutrally, professionally, although I know it’s him.
‘Hey,’ he says, his voice soft. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Yeah, you?’
He comes in and sits on one of the tables, his legs dangling. He looks tired, and a flutter of excitement I’m powerless to stop runs through me knowing exactly why that is.
‘Can we talk?’ he asks. ‘About last night. I’m sorry for the way I left it.’
‘For the I’m sorry?’ I say, unable to help myself.
‘Yeah. For that. It was shitty and cowardly, but when I woke up this morning and looked at you, knowing that you’d been nothing but clear about being friends and that when you woke up, you’d regret it, I bolted. I couldn’t face seeing that expression on your face again.’
He lets out a breath after he finishes speaking, like he’s been holding all that in all day.
My mind flashes back to the first moments of this morning and to how peaceful it felt waking up in his bed.
How right it was and how incredibly wrong Elliot has everything.
There are so many truths I could give him right now, all of which might lead us closer to understanding each other and even being together, but none of that matters as much as getting to Teddy.
‘Sorry,’ I say, repeating the word he left me with this morning. ‘I can’t do this right now, El. I’ve got to go.’
‘Course, yeah.’ He stands and moves back towards the door. ‘I get it,’ he says, shaking his head, a cold smile creeping up his face. ‘Stupid of me to think there was anything to talk about.’
Seconds pass when he’s looking right at me like I’m see-through and he’s trying to work out the jumble he sees on the inside. He waits for me to help him out, to say something that will either confirm he’s stupid or prove he isn’t, but I stay silent.
‘Just what I thought,’ he says eventually, his voice like ice.
He walks out the classroom, leaving the door open.
It would be so easy to call him back and have the conversation we need.
Even if that conversation meant finding out what he meant by that, what he meant by sorry, even if it meant getting my heart hurt, it would move us forward, but I can’t do it.
I can’t take another step without speaking to Teddy.