Chapter 41
Ember
As soon as Allegra parks up at Twerton to drop me off, the adrenaline blazes through me like a sweet release and all systems are a go.
I bolt out of the car, running so fast that I can practically taste the metallic blood in my mouth. You know that sharp cold blast you get in your lungs as you gasp for air when you’ve run a marathon, (which I may not have actually done…), or practically sprinted to avoid getting drenched in torrential rain, (now that I have done, many times). Well, this is exactly the same feeling, apart from the fact that I’m sprinting through the courtyard like a madwomen to confess my love in a way that any Hallmark movie would greenlight, I’m sure.
At this point I don’t even care about the judgemental daggers and sheer looks of confusion from the students in the smoking who are currently puffing on the devil’s lettuce in their pyjamas. Honestly, I might as well have ‘abort, abort, woman in love coming through!’ written across my forehead. As I come to a dramatic halt at the entrance of Arthur’s block, heaving over and panting for dear life like the couch potato I am, it quickly dawns on me that I didn’t factor into my romantic plan that I have no legitimate way of getting in. This isn’t my accommodation, so I don’t have a key fob and I don’t want to call him because it completely defeats the object of my dramatic ‘I’m madly in love with you!’ gesture. I could ring Sam, but being the blabbermouth that he is, he’d be sure to tell Arthur. Plus, I think the fact I chose to ring him could possibly cause drama, and I’ve had a gutsful of that already lately.
I don’t know what comes over me in that moment, it’s like all the rationality drains from my brain like bath water down a plughole. I check to see if the coast is clear, I can see, (more so, smell), that the Ganja brigade has trudged back inside to the common room, I’m safe, it’s now or never. After one final brisk look over my shoulder, I do perhaps the craziest thing I’ve ever done, in one swift motion I channel my inner Tom Daley and quite literally dive through the nearest open window of one of the flats on the ground floor. I luckily land palm first onto the floor of the communal kitchen, so at least I can refrain from ticking broken nose off my list of things to worry about. However, my relief is abruptly squashed when I see two faces of absolute terror staring down at me like I was a rat that had just scuttled from the sewers and directly onto their feet. A pretty brunette sporting a bright green oodie with avocado prints all over it and matching slippers seems to take one for the team and breaks the deafening silence with a clipped toned, “who the hell are you?”
Think Ember, just tell them the truth, you don’t want them to think you’re a psychopath.
I swallow down the lump in my throat and physically shake down the wave of nausea I feel as I stand to my feet. It’s go time, after all, honesty is the best policy, right?
Grimacing, I respond, “Right, I know this is going to sound absolutely batshit crazy but hear me out,” the overly flappy hand gestures are making their supporting appearance now. “There’s someone who lives in this block, Arthur Kirby? Basically, I did something bad and messed up our friendship big time. I ended up leaving Bath and going radio silent on him and if I wasn’t enough of a prick already, did I also mention that I wrote him an apology letter but also ended up confessing my feelings for him in said letter? Anyway, I desperately need to see him to tell him myself that I’m head over heels in love with him, but I couldn’t get into the building because I don’t have a key fob and I couldn’t see anyone else around, I’m from Charlton Court down the road!” Inhaling a huge gulp of air from the sheer weight of my verbal diarrhoea, I pathetically squeak, “so now I’m here.”
Oodie girl gives me a puzzled expression as if I’ve just revealed to her that I’m the Pope Francis. She then sighs deeply in what can only be described as the sound of a deflating balloon. I’m not surprised though; I do have a chronic tendency to overshare. She hesitates briefly before replying, “Er-so let me get this straight, you need to have a chat with this Arthur guy and confess your feelings, so instead of doing the normal human thing and using, you know, a phone, to let him know that you’re here at his building, you instead hurl yourself through a random flats…window?” She emphasises the word win-dow, like it’s a foreign concept to grasp.
I shamefully nod. “I wanted to surprise him.”
The bronzed blonde guy stood next to her, who looked like a walking advertisement for a gym membership, pipes up sarcastically, “again, by hurling yourself through a window? Don’t know if you’re off your face on drugs or just genuinely not right in the head, but if you haven’t noticed already, this isn’t even his flat.”
Oh, piss off gym junkie, like you’d know a romantic gesture if it hit you in the face. I’m sure the closest you’ve ever come to romance is lathering tanning oil all over your pecs and making out with your own flexed biceps in the gym changing rooms.
“Excuse me?”
Oh shit, said that out loud.
Gym junkie looks absolutely seething at the teeth now. He points an accusing finger at me, his voice thick with judgement now as he says “kindly, get the fuck out of our flat.”
Oodie girl gives me a slightly more sympathetic look now as she ushers me in the direction of the front door, it’s as if she’s registered that I’m not actually a crazy bitch, I’m just a girl in love, desperate to right my wrongs.
As I make my way out of the forbidden flat and the door begins to close behind me, I swear I hear gym junkie mutter, “what a headcase! whoever that guy is, he could do better.”
And as I nervously teeter across the corridor to Arthur’s flat, I sigh.
Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.