Chapter 4
4
You know what, I’m starting to think a pina colada is not like a smoothie at all, because I’ve never made a bad decision after a few too many smoothies.
I know it’s a bad decision and yet, here I am, doing it anyway, because I am a woman scorned and this is what women scorned do.
Where am I going? I’m going to Dean’s apartment. No, I’m not invited. No, I’m not telling him that I’m coming. And yes, I know what you’re going to say, that I should turn around, but well, I’m listening to the pina coladas, not common sense.
I’m outside his building, staring up at the city centre high-rise, feeling ever so slightly unsteady on my feet. I suppose if I were going to change my mind about doing this then now would be the time, but as I notice someone heading inside, I see this as my only chance to get in through the door without having to buzz upstairs, so I tailgate in. Honestly, it’s just too easy to sneak into places like this. I’d be furious if I lived here, but I was never asked to live here, I was invited to stay the night, when it was convenient, and I was allowed to leave a few things here, but not enough to feel like I was putting roots down. Anyway, that’s why I’m here, to get my things back. How can I get closure if I still have things here, huh?
Dean’s apartment is a total cliché, exactly what you would expect of a bloody banker – something that is tricky not to mispronounce when you’ve had a few, although misspeaking in the obvious way wouldn’t be inaccurate, would it?
He has floor-to-ceiling windows – but naturally he lives high up enough that it isn’t a problem for privacy. Inside is your typical bachelor pad. Black leather, wood, sports-y stuff. Completely uninspired. And the whole place is so soulless and clinical. Nothing is ever left out. I used to fantasise about messing the place up sometimes, just to see what it would look like with a thing out of place. It turns out there was something out of place there – me.
Okay, enough of the pity party, I’m outside his door and it’s time to take back what’s mine.
I knock on the door with my head held high and my speech all planned out, only for the wind to be knocked right out of my sail when a woman answers the door. She’s younger than me, prettier if we’re being honest, and she’s wearing a super-tight, super-short dress. She’s a ten, and I’m a drunk.
‘Hello?’ she says brightly.
‘Oh, hello, I, erm…’ My voice trails off. ‘Are you Dean’s girlfriend?’
I shouldn’t ask but I can’t help myself.
‘Oh, no,’ she quickly insists.
Oh, man, did I really jump from nought to the worst conclusion? I can’t believe I thought he’d dumped me because he had someone else lined up to take my place. I’m so quick to think the worst of him, just because things didn’t work out.
‘We just met on Matcher. This is actually our first date,’ she informs me. ‘So here’s hoping.’
Oh, that bastard.
‘Lovely,’ I say. ‘Is Dean here?’
‘He’s just, erm, in the shower,’ she says with a smile.
‘Well, he said I could drop by and pick up some things, so I’ll be in and out,’ I tell her, walking in like I own the place, because with confidence you can get away with anything, right?
I march into the bedroom and grab my spare clothes from the drawer where I was allowed to leave a fresh shirt and a pair of knickers. I’m expecting to find the bed a mess but thankfully, for my sanity, it’s still made, so I guess they haven’t got to that part of the date… yet. The only other thing I have here is a toothbrush. It’s just a cheap, disposable one that I got to leave here but, hey, it’s mine and I’m taking it.
I walk into the steamy bathroom and grab my toothbrush. I can hear Dean, in the shower, singing to himself. It makes me sick that he’s so happy when I’m so cut up. Whether our break-up was for the best or not, surely he should at least be a bit sad? No? Am I crazy?
Flustered, I accidentally knock the bottle of hand soap into the sink.
‘Is that you, sexy?’ he calls out. ‘Decided you want to join me after all, huh?’
I lean against the bathroom doorframe, tapping my toothbrush menacingly against my hand, brandishing it like a weapon.
‘Hmm, I don’t think so,’ I reply. ‘I’ve seen it all before and, trust me, it’s not that impressive.’
Dean sticks his head out of the shower door in a flash.
‘Molly?’ he blurts.
‘Hi,’ I reply, waving my toothbrush at him.
He just stares at me, his mouth open, water dripping from his jaw and landing on the floor tiles in front of him. It would be a real shame if he were to make the floor slippery, and then fall on it. Suuuuch a shame.
I blow him a kiss goodbye – a sarcastic one – and then head for the door. My work here is done.
The hot redhead is waiting in the hallway, by the open door – she’s probably been hoping I would just leave, like a moth who flew into the light and is nothing but an annoyance.
‘I have everything I came for,’ I tell her. ‘Thanks for your help.’
‘No, erm, you’re welcome,’ she replies.
‘Can I offer you some advice?’ I say. ‘You don’t have to take it but if I were you, I’d get out of here. Let’s just say Dean has some pretty intense stuff going on down there, something that even the antibiotics are struggling with.’
‘Oh,’ she says. ‘Ohhh! Oh, God, thanks for letting me know. Ew.’
‘Yeah, big time ew,’ I reply. ‘Anyway, thanks.’
‘Wait up,’ she calls after me. ‘I’m out of here. I’ll head out with you.’
As the woman gets in the lift with me, I smile to myself. I know she’s just one girl, and there are thousands more on Matcher, so it’s only a small victory but, I don’t know, surely he can take the weekend off, right? Then he can shag all the girls he wants, and if he’s moving on then I should as well, right? I have two choices right now: I can swear off men forever or I can do what Dean is doing and move on. I know that I want to do the former, to fully embrace granny mode and hide away for the foreseeable, but why should I let him mess up my life? I should do what he’s doing and swipe my way through every single person in Leeds, because what better way to get back on the horse than to, well, get back on the horse?
The thing about Matcher is that it’s full of duds – full of Deans – but I could meet someone good, a rare diamond in the rough. Not all men are like Dean, right? I certainly hope not, because the last thing I need is another one of those.