Page 114 of Read My Lips

DO NOT DISTURB: On until you turn off.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-TWO

SATURDAY

The slow creak of my bedroom door swam me to consciousness even though I didn’t want it to.

Step.

Step. Step. Step.

Swish.

Sunlight daggered into my cocoon of mellow darkness.

“Jesus!” I darted upright, gasping at the unwelcome shock of daylight. Matt stood by my open curtains. Et tu, Brute.

“What are you doing?” I flapped at him like an angry bird, signs going wild. “Get out of my room!”

“Why?” His lower lip jutted, signs blunt and bored. “Hiding someone under the covers?”

“Fuck off Matt.”

Too soon. My desiccated heart constricted with a painful pinch.

Didn’t he know my future stretched forward from this point into an infinity of failed hook-ups with guys who thought they were being risky getting with a knuckle-dragging brute like me and women who wanted throwing about? I’d almost believed Simon cared about me. Saw me the way I wanted to be seen. What a joke. All that time listening like he gave a damn, and he’d been mining me for something personal enough to justify the holes in our story. Or at least distract from them. And I’d bloody-well delivered. I bet he’d had it all planned out from the beginning. Christ.

Ramming my tongue up against the roof of my mouth did nothing to tranquilise the sting behind my eyes.

“You need to get up.”

“No I don’t.” I tugged my duvet higher. Didn’t Matt know I had moping rights for at least three days? Getting dumped and fired had to earn me that. Even if it was only sex. Which it was. And Simon had never really cared. Which I’d known. And I didn’t care either.

“Your phone’s been going off all morning.” Matt slapped it down on my bedside table, wilfully ignoring my decision to stay as far away from it as possible.

“I left it downstairs on purpose.”

“Look at it.”

Such a Deaf thing, Matt coming in here like my business was his business.

“This is not a communal experience.”

“I bloody wish it wasn’t.”

“What does that mean?”

15 Missed Calls from: Simon.

Christ. As if cancelling every recurring booking he had didn’t make his position crystal bloody clear. What could Simon possibly want to talk to me about?

The lie was over. He’d put up the clip he’d recorded at Possimus, justifying our silence with all of my First World family trauma. He didn’t bloody need me hanging around anymore.

I stalked away from the bed to stop Matt rubbernecking over my shoulder. My hands weren’t shaking – the air was much cooler than under my covers, that’s all. Chills rose along my arms as I scrolled notifications. The temperature did it.

Matt rapped on my bedside table to get my attention. “Wouldn’t go too close to the window without a top on.”