touched my feet and asked for spare change, the constant requests to repeat myself because my accent was too thick, the eyes that skimmed over my skinny jeans and ballet pumps. ‘How did you get on?’ Ali asked me when I got home. ‘Was it amazing?’ Maggie said. And I told them about Beth’s shabby-chic home, the forest-green wallpaper and velvet couch, the Union Jack cushions, and her Proenza Schouler bag, her daily Bikram yoga classes, and her office with a view of Big Ben, and the shopping spree she treated me to at Topshop. I told them I loved it. I told them it was the best week of my life.
Is it possible to want everything to change and nothing to change, all at the same time?
I close my eyes, the wobbles undulating in waves through me, swirling in my throat and filling my eyes and my brain, making everything go soft. I can hear the patio door swish open, then close again, the sound of footsteps, an exhaled breath as someone drags their body on to the trampoline, the material sagging as they lie down next to me.
‘Are you asleep?’
It’s Conor.
I wait for a few moments before answering. ‘No.’ I open one eye, and he’s on his side, watching me.
‘I need another drink,’ I say, trying to sit up, but he stops me, placing one hand on my shoulder.
‘Wait. That shit is strong, Emmie. Just give it some time before your next one. Unless you want a repeat of what happened at Dylan’s.’
‘Shut up.’
‘You were such a mess.’ He shakes his head.
‘Sound out for bringing me home.’
I never thanked him properly.
‘No problem. Of course it took longer than I had expected, what with you refusing to get off the footpath on to the road because it wasn’t a road, it was a black lagoon.’
‘Stop it.’
‘A black lagoon with sharks in it.’
‘Those trips were strong,’ I protest, but I lie back down.
I had woken up the next day in his single bed, Conor asleep on the ground next to me. I looked around his neat, clean bedroom for something I couldn’t even name. A photograph of the two of us from when we were kids, maybe? Whatever it was I was searching for, it wasn’t there. I pushed back the duvet cover as quietly as I could and tiptoed out of his room without saying goodbye.
We lie in silence for a few moments. I curl my legs into my stomach, running my hands down the smooth skin of my shins, and he reaches out, and very, very gently touches my little finger with his, his arm pressing against mine. He drops his hand slowly, barely touching the side of my waist, and for some reason I don’t move away. I turn my head towards him, and he does the same. His eyes darken, his fingers pressing into my skin as he starts to make circles at my waist, agonizingly slow. I wonder, just for a second, what it would be like to pull that T-shirt over his head and to kiss him, to see what that would do to him. His fingers drop a little lower, they’re on my hip bone now and my breath turns jagged.
‘I must get another drink.’ I clamber off the trampoline and walk away without looking back.
*
‘Would you mind bringing us to the front door?’ Ali asks as Fitzy stops the car at the bottom of the drive up to the Caseys’ farmhouse.
‘Sorry, Ali,’ he exhales, the breath coming out of his nose, halfway between a snort and a sigh. ‘But I’d never get out of that mess.’ He points at the haphazard queue of cars.
The windows of the house are rattling, as if the music is beating against the glass. There is a group of people outside the front door, red pinpricks of cigarette ends burning in the dark. The air is heavy with the smell of cow shit. Ali and I struggle to walk over the cattle grid, our heels getting stuck in the gaps between the metal bars, Maggie and Jamie looking on and laughing with the boys. Conor is the only one who comes back to help, wrapping his arm around my waist and lifting me on to the concrete at the other side.
‘Thanks,’ I say as he places me down. He turns back to
Is it possible to want everything to change and nothing to change, all at the same time?
I close my eyes, the wobbles undulating in waves through me, swirling in my throat and filling my eyes and my brain, making everything go soft. I can hear the patio door swish open, then close again, the sound of footsteps, an exhaled breath as someone drags their body on to the trampoline, the material sagging as they lie down next to me.
‘Are you asleep?’
It’s Conor.
I wait for a few moments before answering. ‘No.’ I open one eye, and he’s on his side, watching me.
‘I need another drink,’ I say, trying to sit up, but he stops me, placing one hand on my shoulder.
‘Wait. That shit is strong, Emmie. Just give it some time before your next one. Unless you want a repeat of what happened at Dylan’s.’
‘Shut up.’
‘You were such a mess.’ He shakes his head.
‘Sound out for bringing me home.’
I never thanked him properly.
‘No problem. Of course it took longer than I had expected, what with you refusing to get off the footpath on to the road because it wasn’t a road, it was a black lagoon.’
‘Stop it.’
‘A black lagoon with sharks in it.’
‘Those trips were strong,’ I protest, but I lie back down.
I had woken up the next day in his single bed, Conor asleep on the ground next to me. I looked around his neat, clean bedroom for something I couldn’t even name. A photograph of the two of us from when we were kids, maybe? Whatever it was I was searching for, it wasn’t there. I pushed back the duvet cover as quietly as I could and tiptoed out of his room without saying goodbye.
We lie in silence for a few moments. I curl my legs into my stomach, running my hands down the smooth skin of my shins, and he reaches out, and very, very gently touches my little finger with his, his arm pressing against mine. He drops his hand slowly, barely touching the side of my waist, and for some reason I don’t move away. I turn my head towards him, and he does the same. His eyes darken, his fingers pressing into my skin as he starts to make circles at my waist, agonizingly slow. I wonder, just for a second, what it would be like to pull that T-shirt over his head and to kiss him, to see what that would do to him. His fingers drop a little lower, they’re on my hip bone now and my breath turns jagged.
‘I must get another drink.’ I clamber off the trampoline and walk away without looking back.
*
‘Would you mind bringing us to the front door?’ Ali asks as Fitzy stops the car at the bottom of the drive up to the Caseys’ farmhouse.
‘Sorry, Ali,’ he exhales, the breath coming out of his nose, halfway between a snort and a sigh. ‘But I’d never get out of that mess.’ He points at the haphazard queue of cars.
The windows of the house are rattling, as if the music is beating against the glass. There is a group of people outside the front door, red pinpricks of cigarette ends burning in the dark. The air is heavy with the smell of cow shit. Ali and I struggle to walk over the cattle grid, our heels getting stuck in the gaps between the metal bars, Maggie and Jamie looking on and laughing with the boys. Conor is the only one who comes back to help, wrapping his arm around my waist and lifting me on to the concrete at the other side.
‘Thanks,’ I say as he places me down. He turns back to
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