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He shrugs his shoulders, that blank expression remains on his face as he snuggles further into the bed, pulling the duvet cover up, like I’m not even there. “Chill out, babe. We can talk about this later. I’m tired now. Come on, just go to sleep.”
I get ready to argue, but there’s no point. He isn’t even listening to me, and within minutes, he rolls over and begins to snore. I’m just about to head out to the bathroom when a buzzing rings from on thebedsidetable where Drew carefully placed our phones before we had sex. There’s definitely no all-consuming passion where we can’t hold it in any longer and we rip off each other’s clothing, letting them fall where they may. Even the act of getting naked is boring and dull.
I go to pick up my phone, until I realise the vibration wasn’t in fact from my phone, it came from his. I would never normally read another person's phone without their permission, but it’s just sitting there, the message preview staring at me, tempting me to look. All I can see is that it’s a message from someone called Tiff, and she enjoyed…
Well, that’s more than enough of a reason for me to open the phone and read the rest. The idiot doesn’t even have a passcode on the phone. That’s how cocky—or stupid—he is.
TIFF
I enjoyed hanging out with you last night. That thing you did with your tongue was amazing. I know you said you are seeing another girl and can’t get serious, and that’s okay with me. I don’t mind being the other woman. But, when you say she gives the best blow jobs, I’m determined to prove I’m better. Then maybe one day you can get rid of her for good. But for now, this is fine. What do you say, can I be your dirty little secret on the side?
Fuck! My mind whirls as I try to take in all the fucked up things with that message. Looks like the reason he wanted to clarify that we were still only fucking each other was because he was secretly fucking someone else. And, by the sounds of it, he actually showed her a good time. If I felt like shit before, it’s nothing like how I feel now.
I know that if I look further into his phone I will find more. I don’t know how I know that, I just do. I guess maybe it’s something I knew all along, I just wanted to ignore. The bad guy never changes, and the short, curvy girl never gets the guy.
Picking up my phone, I head to the bathroom, and that’s when the message I’ve been trying to send all day finally comes to me.
Imessage Lee, using our joke name of Carlos, and I bare my soul. I tell him I thought we had a connection, and that I really wasn’t trying to blow him off, that my broken foot is real. I wish him all the happiness in the world with this new girl, and as I press send, I know in the pit of my soul that I don’t mean a single word. I can’t explain it, there’s a pain there that hurts more than all Drew’s deception.
The idea that this is the last time I will ever speak to Lee physically hurts me. There’s a part of me, I think it may be my heart, telling me that Lee is important and that I shouldn’t let him go. But therein lies the problem. I haven’t let him go. He left me. He decided to date someone else, just like they all do in the end. After all, who wants to date a short, curvy, sarcastic girl with an incredible ability to fall over a leaf and break her foot? There’s nothing about me that screams date me, love me. I’m one hundred percent forgettable, replaceable.
I clean myself up, and as quietly as I can, move around the flat, picking up my clothes so I can get dressed and leave this fucking shit hole, never to return. Once I’m fully clothed, I debate waking Drew up, but there’s no point. We don’t need to have a conversation, it won’t go anywhere. I just need to forget all about this little mistake and accept I’m going to grow old with hundreds of cats—or maybe dogs, since cats scare the shit out of me. There’s no denying that one day a cat is going to rise and take over the world. Just look at them. They have that evil dictator look about them, all of them.
It’s three in the morning, but I order a taxi on my phone. Opening the front door, I’m shocked to see the person in the flat opposite is also coming out of their door too. I hadn’t expected to see anyone. My hair is all messy, my make-up smudged, and my dress is all wrinkled from when I threw it on the floor. It’s obvious I’m making the walk of shame, and to be honest, that wouldn’t be a problem at all, if it wasn’t for the fact I recognise the person coming towards me.
“Emmaleigh, what are you doing here?” asks Neelam—my boss!
“Erm… I-I was just… visiting a friend. Now I’m heading home.” Yeah, that doesn’t sound suspicious at all. I watch as her gaze travels over the slutty dress I’m wearing, and the big boot I have on to support my broken foot.
I suppose now would be a good time to mention that I work in the hospital as a nurse, and of course, given the broken foot, I’m currently on sick leave. “This is an odd time to be leaving, Em. Should you be on your foot at all? I don’t want you injuring it further,” Neelam states, and I can hear the tone of disapproval in her voice.
I mumble my response, trying not to act like a child being chastised by a parent. “I’m just heading to the taxi. I have my crutches at home. That’s part of the reason I’m going home. My foot hurts. What are you doing here?” I turn the tables on her, although she doesn’t look like she’s making the walk of shame. She’s in her jeans and T-shirt, and honestly she looks as perfectly put together as she always does at work.
“This is where I live. I’m on call, and they are short staffed on the ward, so I’m just going in to help.” I can’t help but wince, thinking I could be responsible for their staff shortage. I try to visualise my off-duty in my head, and I let out an audible sigh when I remember I definitely shouldn’t have been working tonight. So, technically, it isn’t my fault, but I still don’t enjoy hearing that my colleagues—my friends—are struggling. We work as a team on our ward and I hate that my body means I am letting them down.
“Oh well, hopefully things will get better.” What else am I supposed to say? I can’t exactly help at all.
Neelam gives me a small smile. “Make sure you rest, please. Then when you get back to work, you can tell me all the gossip about why you are sneaking out of a boy’s apartment at three in the morning.”
She gives me a small wink as she walks past me towards the door that acts as an entry for the whole block of flats. I follow behind her, hobbling at a slower pace, trying not to wince. Fuck, I’m really regretting not bringing my crutches right about now.
She jumps in her car and my taxi appears. I wave her off as my body begins to sag. It’s typical she spots me at the worst moments of my life. I can’t really get much lower. A girl so desperate to be loved that she will settle for someone as fucking disgusting as Drew. I think now is the time when I really need to concentrate more on loving myself than on finding a man. Which is a fucking good idea since I’m out of options. My mind wanders to Lee, and I can’t help but think about what we could have been if we had just had our chance.
CHAPTERTWO
LEE
“Ugh, I had the worst date ever last night,” I groan as I flop down onto my best friend, Craig’s, rumpled double bed. It’s well after two in the afternoon, yet it still looks like he’s just rolled out of it because he knew I was on my way over.
“Who was it this time?” he asks, as he munches on a chocolate bar he had on his computer desk. I can see he has a few, but he doesn’t bother to offer me one. Typical. I almost roll my eyes at him.
Our friendship has never really been any different. Don’t get me wrong, he’s still the closest thing I have to a best friend, but that doesn’t make him very good at it. We’ve been friends since we first met in school, around the age of five, and we have been close ever since. But the thing about Craig is that he’s flaky as fuck. It’s almost like if he sees something new and shiny, he will ditch me for a bit while he goes to play with that. I’ve come to learn that the newness always wears off, and eventually he always comes back. What I’ve never quite understood is why, each and every time, I let him.
“Is this the one with the massive tits?” he adds, as if that helps to clarify the situation.
Shaking my head. “No, that was the singer I met the week before last. This was the babysitter.”
Craig has this lightbulb moment when he suddenly remembers who I’m talking about, and as he gets a mischievous glint in his eye, I remember why. “Oh fuck, yeah. Please tell me you fucked her and spanked her ass for being a bad babysitter,” Craig jokes as he stands up, puts one foot onto the edge of the bed, and begins thrusting his pelvis while spanking his own ass.
