Chapter Eighteen
Eighteen
The one where he wanted to feel at home
“Shit,” Sam hissed.
I spun round to find that he’d cut himself on a bottle opener. “How the fuck did you manage that?”
There wasn’t a ton of blood but there was enough to ruin a tea towel. I helped him patch up the cut whilst the music and chatter carried on in the living room. Our parties were still lively but somewhat more sophisticated than before. No smashing windows. At least, I hoped not.
We were in Mandy’s kitchen, where he’d been staying for the last few months.
His most recent girlfriend, the one who hated me, had split up with him that past summer, citing his immaturity as the reason.
Which is ridiculous because he was only twenty-three.
I thought you were meant to be immature at twenty-three.
But unfortunately, it did mean he was back to sleeping in his childhood bedroom, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles stickers all over his bed, and feeling like bit of a mug.
“When’s Adam getting here?” Sam asked, eyeing me.
I didn’t look at him for fear of giving away how I felt about his absence.
Adam had been promising to help set up and stay the whole party in retribution for having missed the previous year due to his skiing escapades.
But that had already gone to pot, since he hadn’t arrived yet. “He said around ten.”
We both checked the clock. It was half-ten. Sam didn’t need to point that out.
“Why didn’t he just arrive with you?”
I shrugged. “His brothers wanted to grab a drink at the pub.”
“You didn’t fancy going with them?”
I gave Sam a disappointed pout. “This is our thing. I’m always going to choose to spend New Year with you.”
“And he isn’t skiing this year?”
“No. The least he can do is show up to my birthday.”
Sam nodded and I swear he threw in an eye roll, but I couldn’t be sure.
I had a growing suspicion that Sam was weary of Adam.
That past summer, we’d all been to Ibiza and stayed in a villa, and I really hoped they’d find some common ground.
I loved Adam because he was kind and gentle.
He was the sort of guy to take care of things in many ways.
I’d never had to figure out how to pay the energy bill, for example.
And that was great because it sounded really fucking boring.
Then there was this weight that came with our relationship that made me feel anchored to him.
Sometimes, I wondered if it was because we’d made so much effort to get to where we were.
Navigating the period of being long-distance, exhausting careers and university dramas – I couldn’t give up on everything we’d been through for something as harmless as being late for parties.
We were Hattie and Adam. People used us as an example of a couple that survived it all, how could I let them down? Let us down?
“So, he’ll be here soon then?” he asked for confirmation.
“He said so.”
“Right, ok then.”
One hour later, with thirty minutes to go until my birthday, the house brimming with people, music and the clinking of glasses, Adam strolled through the front door with two of his brothers.
They weren’t invited but I could hardly say no to them joining.
I popped another bottle of fizz to prepare for the fireworks and handed it to Sara to top up glasses.
Her newest boyfriend adventure was a Greek man who didn’t speak a word of English. She’d picked him up while she was working the clubs in Malia during the summer. But it was ok, she’d explained, because they mostly communicated carnally anyway. Which… gross.
Adam gave me a hug and then him and his brothers leant against opposite walls in the hallway. I hovered between them, unsure why they didn’t make a move to come into the house some more.
“So, Sam still lives with his mum?” Adam’s oldest brother asked, peering around the space like he was planning to buy it.
“For a bit, yeah,” I said, my heckles up. Sam was paying rent and stuff. He wasn’t just living with his mum for free and racking up the benefits.
Adam’s other brother, Dom, laughed.
“Is that a problem?” I sniped.
Adam rested a hand on my lower back as if to simmer me down. I’d been careful not to drink too much that night. There was no deadly punch this year. I wasn’t mixing. And I even had a glass of water around for sipping intermittently. Even so, I was tipsy enough to get lairy.
Dom folded his arms. “Yeah, come on, Hattie. It’s a bit pathetic. All of us Suarez brothers were out of the house on our own, set up, with careers by twenty-one. You don’t move back to your parents’ home under any circumstances. It’s tragic.”
I shook my head. “You’re wrong. You don’t know anything about Sam.”
“He doesn’t even have a job right now,” Adam added, a smirk in his voice.
I twisted to glare at him, surprised he’d dip so low.
“He had to move back from Brighton and is looking for work. It’s not like he’s choosing to be unemployed.”
Adam looked at his shoes, the smirk on his lips not fully retreating.
I ground my jaw. To change topics, I reluctantly offered to get them another round of drinks and slunk off the kitchen.
When I returned with three open bottles in my hand, Adam’s brothers had put their coats back on and were hovering by the door. My smile dropped.
They were leaving. I could feel it.
“Why’s your coat on?” I asked Adam, who was fidgeting with his sleeves, a sheepish expression on his face.
He grimaced. “This party is a bit shit,” he said.
I opened my mouth and stammered for a few seconds. “But it’s my party. It’s my birthday!”
“I know, babe…”
“Don’t babe me! Adam, why do you do this every year?”
“It’s New Year’s Eve. I want to be with my brothers. I’ve hardly seen them this year.”
“Then tell them to stay,” I said, staring him down.
But I could tell by the way he was glancing between us that he was never planning to do that. “It’s not my fault your birthday is New Year’s Day, is it?”
“What?”
“I just… Look, they want to hang out at the pub. It’s a great atmosphere over there. I showed up, didn’t I? I’ll see you tomorrow. We’ll have lunch.”
“But I’m seeing my parents tomorrow.”
“I’ll join you,” he offered, splaying his hands as if that answers this predicament.
I scoffed. “Fine. Whatever.”
Sam appeared, jogging down the stairs and slowing to a stop. His cautious expression told me he could tell something was up. His eyes didn’t stray from my face. “Everything ok?”
“You must be the party boy?” Dom said, a horrible grin on his face. I wanted to punch him. If my hands hadn’t been full, I’d have done it.
Well, probably.
Instead, I waved them off, accepted a kiss on my cheek from Adam and watched them leave. Sam didn’t say anything, but again, he didn’t need to.
This was the thing with Adam. I really did believe that he loved me, but there was always a better offer. Even if that offer was the pub.
At five minutes to midnight, Sam set up the fireworks in the garden. A new girl that was just his type, short and quirky, was hovering around him and, as always with being his female best friend, I didn’t feel like cramping his style, so I retreated.
Once all the festivities were done, people slowly started to leave and I wasn’t in the mood for farewells.
I stayed in the garden, wrapped in my coat as more fireworks in the local area went off, littering the sky with sparks of reds and blues and golds.
I leant on the wall of the house and hugged myself to stay warm in the icy chill.
A tear rolled down my frozen cheek.
“Hello, storm cloud,” a familiar, deep voice murmured.
I jumped, peeking around the dark garden, spotting his large, dark figure at the back gate. He’d obviously decided to avoid being seen via the front door. I frowned, quickly wiping my cheeks dry and sniffing. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Nice to see you too.”
His features were difficult to make out, but I could tell he was in his long coat again, hands in his pockets, as he came to stand beside me, leaning one shoulder on the wall to stare at my face.
I had to get it together or he’d notice.
“Happy birthday,” he said. “Sorry I didn’t bring a gift.”
I shrugged. “I don’t even know when your birthday is.”
“Fifth of March.”
“How dull.”
“Terribly. You going to tell me why you’re out here crying in the dark at your own birthday party? Do I need to have a word with someone?” he asked, peering over my shoulder at the kitchen, still filled to the brim with chatty people.
I swallowed, my tummy squeezing. “I’m not crying.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t want to tell you.”
“Are you ok?”
I sniffed back tears. What is it about a line of questioning when you’re right on the edge to push you over? “Yes, I’m ok,” I squeaked.
“Right.” He nodded but didn’t seem fully satisfied. “Did someone hurt you? Try it on?”
I shook my head. “No. Honestly, I’m fine.
“Does Sam know you’re crying?”
I changed the subject. “Why are you even here?”
He didn’t respond for a long moment, but I welcomed the silence.
At least it meant I had time to breathe and collect myself.
He shifted so his back was flush with the wall and rolled his head back.
I could hear the scrape of the red bricks against his coat.
“I was supposed to be back at my flat tonight but… I wanted to feel at home,” he murmured.
“So, I guess I’ll just stay out here with you. ”