7. No. 32 Sext someone
seven
Bea
I’m lying in bed, bone deep exhaustion making me take an early night, but I’m now too wired to sleep.
It’s only just gone nine and I was sure I was going to crash as soon as my head hit the pillow, but August’s speech about how much he hates me has really embedded itself in my brain and doesn’t seem to want to leave.
I have Cas’s voice in my head saying, fuck him, you don’t need everyone to like you, you’re a fucking delight and you have great tits, just forget him, babe.
Except, people don’t hate me. I work hard to be what people need from me.
I’m friendly and bubbly and I’m always polite.
Why would he hate me? Does he just hate women?
No, that can’t be it, he’s tight with his sister and I’ve seen her a couple of times over the last week, she seems bolshy and definitely wouldn’t put up with a misogynistic brother.
He seemed pretty sure I was going to leave for London again…
but if he doesn’t like me, surely that would be a good thing.
I want to call Cas, I know they’ll still be awake, but it’s late and I don’t want them to worry I’m out here freaking out about something that’s ultimately unimportant.
For one kind of mean neighbour, I’ve met about thirty others who have been wonderful and welcoming.
This shouldn’t bother me. But I am bothered.
I lost over half my books, my crappy bookshelves are destroyed, my brand-new espresso machine blew up on its first use, and now my new neighbour hates me…
for no reason. My body feels jittery; my anxiety is buzzing through my limbs and I’m conscious of the possibility of another attack.
I pick up my phone, the movement dislodging Heathcliff who had curled up around my head, and tap at the screen a couple of times.
I shouldn’t call Cas, I should be able to deal with my own stuff.
Pedro Peen is nestled at my side, so I give him a little squeeze for courage and go to put my phone back down, but it buzzes in my hand, and the notification banner tells me I have a photo message from Richard.
Why would Richard be texting me? It’s been six months since we broke up and we’ve only messaged to arrange collection of our stuff from each other’s apartments.
I open the message and promptly sit up, my jaw dropping wide, Heathcliff meows loudly in protest and rounds to my front to try and push me back down but just ends up hanging onto my chest.
“What the hell?” I wheeze into the dark.
The photo suddenly disappears and the three dots wave at me to signal he’s messaging.
RICHARD: Shit, sorry. That was not meant for you.
ME: Okay.
ME: Who was it for?
Why would I ask that? It is absolutely not my business.
RICHARD: My girlfriend.
RICHARD: Honestly Bea, I’m really sorry. And totally embarrassed. You know I wouldn’t have sent that to you on purpose, right?
ME: Yeah. I know. Well, no harm done, it’s not like I’ve never seen it before.
ME: That sounded weird. Anyway, congrats on the girlfriend.
RICHARD: Thanks, Bea. I hope you’re doing well.
Oh yeah, I’m frigging fantastic. I don’t answer him, instead turning the lights on and video calling Cas. They answer quickly, sat up in bed with a bag of peanut M we were just watching Gilmore Girls and snacking.”
“Who is that?”
I witness the rare phenomenon of Cas blushing, dipping their gaze and biting their lip. “Nina.”
I gasp. “Water cooler Nina?”
Cas nods and we share a quiet squeal between us. “She called me when I was on the train home from you last weekend and we went out a couple of times. She came over tonight to Netflix and chill and we’ve literally been watching Netflix for a couple of hours.”
“Oh my God, Cas,” I say completely blindsided by this. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d finally gone out with water cooler Nina?”
Cas shrugs. “I was going to, but I know you were busy and still finding your feet, so I was planning on letting you know after the weekend with your mum.” They pause for a moment. “Your mum still coming?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, Cas, Mum is still coming tomorrow. And don’t deflect. Are you two, like, dating, dating?”
They smirk. “I think so.”
“Holy shit, this is huge for you.”
“Okay, let’s not make it a bigger deal than it is.”
Inexplicably, my eyes start to sting.
Cas’s face drops. “Oh my God, are you crying?”
“No,” I say, but my voice breaks.
“Bea.” Cas laughs sympathetically. “Babe, are you upset I didn’t tell you?”
I shake my head but they’re not entirely wrong.
“Bea, I wasn’t hiding it from you or anything, it’s just really new and I was going to tell you when we next had a long chat rather than the quick catch ups we’ve had this week.” I can hear the guilt in their voice, and I want to tell them it’s fine, but I don’t.
“If I was still in London, you would have told me and had me come over to help you pick what to wear for your first date and we would have debriefed after.” I am actually crying now and feeling rather pathetic.
“Oh, Bea,” Cas says quietly. “Are you okay? Are you upset about the dick pic?”
“No,” I say truthfully. “But I’m pissed Richard has a girlfriend and I’m here crying in my bed alone at night.”
“Have you checked his socials? Is she pretty?” Cas asks.
“No! I don’t care about her, I’m not in competition with her, and I don’t want Richard back, it’s just…he’s so boring. How come he gets someone else six months after wanting to marry me, and I have no one?”
“So, this is because you want a boyfriend?” Cas asks, clearly unhappy with the idea.
“No,” I groan, unable to put the feeling into words.
“Listen, Bea. Richard is a basic bitch, he’s probably found another basic bitch who doesn’t mind his lacklustre love making every once in a while, because he indulges her love of caramel iced lattes and scented candles.”
“Hey,” I complain. “I like both those things.”
“Yeah, but they’re not your entire personality.”
“August hates me,” I blurt.
“What? No, he doesn’t why would he?”
“He does. He told me.” I use Pedro to soak up my tears and maybe a little snot. He might need to go through the wash.
“He what now?” Cas says, anger now threaded through their tone.
“He told me he hated me,” I cry.
“People aren’t allowed to hate you,” Cas says, indignant. “You’re an angel, a bloody delight.”
I laugh wetly.
“Fuck him,” Cas practically shouts.
“I really don’t think he’d be into it,” I try for a joke and Cas gives me a flat look.
“I hate that someone’s made you feel like shit and I’m not there to kick their butt for you.”
“I know.” I sigh. “I’m just feeling sorry for myself, I’ll feel better in the morning.”
When I see my mother’s incoming call the next morning, I know I’m about to be bitterly disappointed.
“Hi, Mum,” I say, injecting some brightness into my voice. “How are you?”
“Darling,” she coos, her voice soft and breathy as it always is. I always wonder if the Marilyn Monroe quality to her speech is another trick to lure rich old guys into marriage. “It’s so good to hear your voice, Beatrice. I feel like it’s been forever.”
“Well, you’ll hear it a whole lot when you get here,” I say, knowing full well she isn’t on the train as she should be already.