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‘Oh, no, that was me,’ I quickly insist. As Tobias’s eyebrows shoot up, I realise what I’ve just said. ‘Well, not actually me. Rocco and I thought it might be fun to sabotage each other’s dates, so we were spreading rumours about each other, to put people off.’
Tobias laughs – almost in disbelief.
‘That does sound like fun, but the whole point of the evening was to try and find someone,’ Tobias points out. ‘You two wasted your chances.’
‘Oh, look, is that the time?’ Leila says, without appearing to check the time. ‘I’m thinking it’s time we called it a night. Tobias, can you walk me home? I’m not far from here.’
‘Yeah, sure,’ he replies.
Leila looks at me. I notice the corners of her mouth turn up ever so slightly. Is she… she is. She’s doing this on purpose, leaving me and Rocco alone together – she’s trying to set us up.
‘I should try and get myself a taxi,’ I say quickly – too quickly, perhaps. ‘It’s a nightmare, trying to get home at this time, when it’s busy, it’s usually a long wait for a car, I’d better make a move.’
Like I even have enough of a social life to know if that’s true or not.
‘You can always stay in my hotel room again,’ Rocco suggests.
This time Leila’s eyebrows hit the ceiling.
‘On the sofa, again, obviously,’ he quickly adds. ‘Just to save you trekking home, and waiting forever for a taxi.’
I want to say yes. I really, really want to say yes.
‘I’d better get home,’ I say instead. ‘But thank you, though.’
‘No worries,’ he says with a smile.
We all say goodnight before Tobias and Leila head off together, Rocco walks off in the direction of his hotel, and I get in my taxi – a taxi that picks me up right away, from outside the bar. It’s for the best, though. If there is one thing I can’t be trusted with right now, it’s being alone in a hotel room with Rocco, if there’s even a chance the feelings between us might be mutual, and the taxi arriving right away takes away the opportunity for me to weaken and change my mind.
So I head home, alone, getting dropped off a few doors down from my own house, walking the final stretch of my journey on foot, so that I stand a better chance of making it inside, and up to my bedroom, without waking anyone up. I know, it’s pathetic, but I feel like a kid again, one who doesn’t want to be in trouble with her mummy and daddy, or to be interrogated about where I’ve been until this time.
I’m briefly distracted by the red-tinted light that’s on in Kenny’s bedroom window. Oh, that’s so gross. I hope Jess isn’t in there with him, but I wouldn’t bet my house on her not being.
It’s half three in the morning – one of those times that is neither getting home late at night nor early morning and is therefore open to interpretation.
I take my door key off my ring of keys to ensure it turns in the door silently. All the lights are off, so I imagine everyone is in bed asleep (on this side of the fence, at least), but on the off chance my dad is sitting on the sofa in the dark ready to ask me where I’ve been until this time, it’s best I try to be as quiet as I possibly can. I can’t believe that after all these years, I am worried about upsetting my dad, but here we are.
He isn’t in the living room, thankfully, so I sneak up the stairs. One of the things about an old house is that random steps and floorboards creak when you walk on them, even under the thick carpet, it sounds like walking on snow if you hit the wrong board in the wrong place. I suppose, without even realising it, I’ve been mentally mapping them all out since the day I moved in, so I know exactly where to stand if I don’t want to make a sound.
I make it up the stairs, along the hallway, and into the sanctuary of my room without making a peep. Even with the door closed behind me, the walls in this house aren’t the thickest, so I continue to sneak through my dark room before shrugging off my dress and peeling back the covers to climb into bed. At first, it feels like my hand is wet, but there’s absolutely no reason my bed should be wet. There’s a strange smell in here too. It’s only as I sink down into bed that I feel my mostly bare skin collide with someone else’s body.
I scream as I jump up. I run for my bedroom door but slip on something – more of the same slippery, smelly substance I found on the bed. I land on the bedroom floor right as my mum, dad and Gail all come running in to see if I’m okay. One of them must hit the light switch.
I scramble to my feet and look back towards the bed. And there he is, naked as far as I can tell, clearly drunk, sitting up in my bed, looking annoyed that we’ve all woken him up. And the weird substance that appears to be all over the room? A kebab is my best guess.
‘Declan, what the hell are you doing here?’ I ask angrily.
‘Who is Declan?’ I hear Gail ask my dad as she yawns.
‘Her boyfriend,’ he whispers back.
‘Oh, I’m going back to bed,’ she tells him with a bat of her hand, as though she’s above this sort of drama.
‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ I insist, grabbing a hoodie from the nearest drawer and slipping it on. ‘I haven’t seen him in a year.’
‘Declan, whatareyou doing here?’ Mum asks him, taking a softer approach, clearly only to get answers. I wish I had her ability to stay calm.
‘I’m home,’ he announces, laughing wildly. I can smell the booze on his breath from here.
