Measuring Up Love

Chapter 0

A bee colony had taken up residence beside my bed. Of that I was convinced – until the endless noise finally turned into a subdued and singular line of mechanical buzzing. With tremendous mental effort, I managed to identify it as the sound of my vibrating mobile. Still half-asleep, I reached out to locate the evil device on my bedside cabinet. If only I hadn’t, as Isabel’s voice erupted like a volcano as soon as I answered the call.

‘Evelyn, where are you? We’re parked up outside, and I’ve been ringing the bell for ages. Are you still coming with us to Mum and Dad’s?’

I sat up on the bed and rubbed my eyes. My head ached like hell, and my mouth felt dry as a bone.

It was dark in the room, but some light filtered around the edges of the heavy curtains. Though the window wasn’t opposite the bed where it was supposed to be – it was to my right. This, however, didn’t register with me until I yawned and saw a man’s naked body next to me; only his bottom half was covered by the duvet. He was lying on his stomach, his head turned towards me, his mouth slightly open. It took me a second to recognise who it was. When I did, my blood froze.

‘I slept with him,’ I whispered in disbelief.

‘Who? David? Finally!’

For a second, I forgot my sister was on the other end of the line, and I was holding the phone only an inch away. Her excited voice helped me sober up.

‘No, not David… Adam.’

‘Adam? Who’s Adam? I didn’t know there was an Adam. ’

‘Adam is the new guy.’

‘What new guy?’

‘The new employee.’

‘Your employee?’

‘I’m in so much shit,’ I said, covering my face with my free hand as all the potential outcomes of the situation rushed through my mind – but none of them ended happily for me. Sleeping with a colleague was a sure-fire way to ruin the career I’d been working hard for over the past seven years. Also, I’d just given my father another reason to be unhappy with me and prove he was right about women not being cut out for construction or any other traditionally male-dominated industry.

‘Calm down, Evelyn. Just tell me what happened,’ she prompted. Not that my voice sounded panicky; I’d always been in control of my emotions.

‘She slept with a co-worker,’ I heard her whisper to someone – likely her husband, Edward.

‘I don’t know… We were at that office party yesterday. One minute, I’m talking to David; we’re having Prosecco… The next, I’m waking up beside… Adam ,’ I said, stealing another glance at the fast-asleep young man.

‘Where are you?’

‘In a hotel room.’

‘Which hotel?’

I tried to remember, but the answer didn’t come to me. I looked around, searching for a clue. The two-toned colour scheme appeared familiar, and the dark furniture was minimalistic but good quality. It must have been a chain. An invoice was on the bedside cabinet beside me – I picked it up. My vision was still blurry from the hangover, but I managed to decipher the letters.

‘I’m at the… Cardiff ?’

‘I’ve never heard of that hotel. Is that in Central London?’ she asked. ‘Do you know the Cardiff Hotel?’ I heard her murmur to that other someone.

‘Sis, can I call you back later? ’

‘Okay, so you’re telling me we’ve just wasted an hour stopping at your place first? You’ll have to make your own way to Nottingham now – we won’t be hanging around until you come back. Take care. We’ll see you later.’

‘Isabel, wait! Can you please not tell Mum and Dad about this?’

‘Come on – you know me.’

‘Yes, I do,’ I said, and this was exactly what worried me. I should have never told her about David either.

I put down the phone and looked at Adam again. He was still lying on his chest, his breathing slow and even. His nicely shaped muscular back had no hair or blemishes – at least I’d picked a half-decent-looking man to mess up my life with.

I climbed out of the bed quietly so as not to wake him and tiptoed to the bathroom. The clothes I’d been wearing at the Christmas party were scattered on the tiled floor. I was glad it hadn’t been a formal event, just a quick dinner and drinks at a pub after work, allowing me to get away with a pair of black fitted trousers and a shiny, fluffy jumper – my mid-morning walk of shame would have been more evident in a creased evening dress.

After collecting the items from the floor, I studied my reflection in the large wall mirror. My long hair looked a mess, as though it had never seen a brush, and the dark make-up smeared on my face made me resemble a zombie bride. I wished (similar to the health-risk warnings on cigarette boxes) there was a giant red sign about the dangers of smoky eyeshadow and false-lash-effect mascara on their packaging. Something like ‘ do not even think about combining drinking with heavy make-up, and definitely do not add prescription medicine to the mix ’.

I stacked the clothes in a neat pile on the side of the washstand and started scrubbing my skin with soap until my eyelids, the huge bags under my eyes, and my cheeks no longer looked black and dark grey.

Then I quickly got dressed. My clothes stank of alcohol, and the odour worsened my headache. My breath smelled no better than my attire, and I rinsed my mouth with tap water a few times. Though it was unlikely I’d strike up a conversation with anyone on my way home.

Once I’d made myself as presentable as possible, I started looking for my handbag. I’d drawn the curtains back a bit more to see better but not enough for the light to disturb Adam.

After searching everywhere in the room, I finally spotted it under the chair in front of the large desk. When I bent to pick it up, there was movement from the bed.

Holding my breath, I straightened up to find Adam hadn’t woken, just turned onto his other side. I quickly zipped on my ankle boots and grabbed my long winter coat, which had been thrown across the back of the chair.

Before opening the door, I glanced back to check I wasn’t leaving anything behind.

My night-time companion was still sleeping peacefully. Based on his résumé, he must have been a few years older than me – likely in his early thirties. However, as he lay there dreaming away, he looked ridiculously young, like a schoolboy, and still perfect with that irritatingly symmetrical face and those annoyingly smooth features: short, thick eyebrows, straight nose and full lips almost curving to a smile. Even his jet-black hair had kept its perfectly gelled style from last night. The god of going out didn’t treat women and men equally – life wasn’t fair.

When Adam started moving on the bed again, I took that as my cue to exit.