Page 5

“He’s in 2B,” said Sex Hair, taming her unruly bob. She released the door and opened her umbrella with one hand. Alex lunged, catching the door with both hands. A huge sigh escaped from her mouth, along with a ‘thank you’ that hung in the air, unclaimed. The woman, now a blur, skirted around puddles at the forecourt gate.

Squish…splotch…squeak. Alex’s saturated shoes protested up the stairs to the second floor, where four apartment doorways punctuated a narrow hallway. 2B stood to her immediate right. A park view from Harry’s flat? Score!

She knocked three times, her knuckles leaving behind a wet splotch on the white paint.

The door flew open. A good-looking guy, lanky with messy brown hair stood shirtless, clad only in tight Calvin Klein boxer briefs. His pores emitted a vile cocktail of sweat, cheap beer, and cigarettes. A crooked grin inched across his face while his half-mast eyes swept upwards from the floor.

“Darling, am I that irresistible?”

“Um…” Alex blinked.

His leering smile evaporated. “Shit!”

The door slammed shut.

Warmth flooded Alex’s cheeks. Now what? Knock again? … Text Harry?

The door opened again, and the disheveled fellow reappeared, pulling a badly creased 2013 Glastonbury Festival t-shirt over his six foot two inch frame, his long arms struggling for freedom through the holes. Black, skinny jeans with a torn knee covered his bottom half.

“Sorry, love. Can I help?” Dark, puffy circles propped up his piercing blue-green eyes.

“Hi. I’m Alex. Are you…Tom? Harry arranged for me to have the spare room?”

“Right, right. Sorry. When I heard the knocks I thought you were…oh, never mind, come in.” He waved Alex into the apartment and yawned so widely, she counted all of his fillings.

A new tightness pinched her chest as she looked down at her dripping clothes. What a nightmare of a first impression. During her flight, she played her arrival over and over again in her head. She’d show up at the flat all carefree and charming, greet Harry with a big hug and win over her his girlfriend instantly. If only. And this Tom fellow…he didn’t exist in her dream at all.

“Are you a friend of Harry’s?” Her eyes wandered, snooping down the long hallway to her left. She counted four doors, two tennis rackets, and a bicycle.

“Yes, I’m Tom Chadwick-Smythe. Nice to meet you.” He pulled Alex close and stooped down, delivering a kiss on each cheek. His patchy stubble scratched her skin. “I completely forgot you were arriving today. My mind’s a sieve! Thank goodness I was home.”

Such a hands-on introduction…with a smelly stranger. Ew. Wide-eyed, she squirmed out of Tom’s intimate greeting.

“Thanks…so…how many people live here?”

“Well, you already know Harry, nightclub owner extraordinaire. My younger sister Olivia lives here too. She’s Harry’s girlfriend. And me. I moved in a month ago, actually.”

Tom kneaded his bloodshot eyes. “Acting jobs have been few and far between lately. My landlord chucked me out, the rotten swine, so Olivia took pity on me.”

Alex raised her eyebrows. Living with an actor—that’s new.

“Speaking of which, my sister will kill me if she comes home to a dirty flat.” Tom shrugged. “Our cleaning lady was here yesterday but isn’t due back ‘til Monday. I was supposed to tidy up last night’s mess when I woke, but…got distracted.”

Alex’s cheeks warmed again. She placed her soaking bags against the closet door in the entryway and folded her jacket on top. The dirty All-Stars—off they went, too; wearing germy outside shoes indoors gave her the willies.

“Doctor Who fan, I see,” said Tom, pointing at the computer bag. “I always preferred David Tennant to Matt Smith. Tennant’s arched eyebrow was a stroke of acting genius.”

“It was, but Matt Smith had a charming, boyish quality. He was totally endearing,” said Alex. Hurray, another Doctor Who fan. Fangirling about Doctor Who, a favourite pastime.

“True. True. We’ll have to debate their qualities later. But first, riddle me this. How did you get so drenched? The nearest exit from our Overground station is only thirty seconds from our gate.”

Alex rubbed the back of her damp neck. “Seriously? I exited onto Mentmore Terrace. I guess I took the scenic route?”

“Ha, that you did.” He cracked his knuckles. One. Finger. At. A. Time. And then the popping extravaganza moved along to his other hand. Snap. Snap. Alex’s face blanched. So fidgety. Snap. And annoying. Snap. Like an over-wound toy, the guy flittered on the spot. He played with his unkempt hair and leaned to his right, raising an eyebrow at the floor behind her. “You must have more bags than this? Where’s the rest of your gear?”

“Misplaced. They’re en route somewhere over the Atlantic.”

“Oh shit, that sucks. I’d be lost without my stuff.” His hand climbed underneath his t-shirt and scratched his chest. “Anyway, before I tidy up, I’ll show you around. Then you can make yourself at home.” Tom pointed in front of them. “This room’s the lounge.”