Three Way (12 page)

‘Have you?’

‘Don’t beat about the bush, just come out and say what you’re thinking then?’

‘I am,’ she says, a slight smile on her face. She waits for an answer.

‘Right well, uh have I ever had bedroom issues? Well. Sure, everyone has at some stage haven’t they?’ She nods slowly. ‘Or has every boyfriend you’ve had just been able to perform perfectly, like some sort of rabid lion?’ She bursts out laughing, it’s a strange sound, bit like a snort. I laugh with her.

‘Rabid lion?’ she says, still laughing.

‘Yeah, I dunno.’ I shrug. We laugh again.

‘You’re strange,’ she says.

‘Me? What about you with your ‘crap-in-bed’ issues.’ Her mouth opens again. I smile cheekily at her.

‘You want this beer over you? Huh? So rude. I do not have ‘crap-in-bed’ issues. I was asking if you ever had those sorts of problems.’

‘No I know. Sometimes, but it hasn’t happened for ages. If you’re concerned about being disappointed, don’t worry. I rarely disappoint. Except that one time when she wanted to try it up the bum and I couldn’t muster the penile energy,’ I say. She laughs again and covers her shock by putting her hand across her mouth. She shakes her head.

‘Gross. But you’re funny, so I forgive you,’ she replies.

‘Funny ha ha? Or funny weird?’

‘Funny weird. Definitely funny weird.’ Her expression changes, the smile disappearing from her face. ‘But I like funny weird.’ We stare at each other. My heart is suddenly pumping full stretch like it’s going to burst from my chest at the sudden intensity of the moment.

‘Uh oh,’ I say.

‘What?’

‘This is going to be trouble.’

We stumble out of the Proxy Bar into the chilly night.

‘Where shall we go?’ Lauren asks, threading her hand through my arm.

‘Isn’t Yogi’s just up here?’ I suggest. She wrinkles her nose.

‘Oh no, tell me you don’t go there? I was starting to like you as well,’ she replies, a drunken smile on her face.

‘No, I was just saying it’s up there. My sad flatmate used to go there sometimes. What’s your suggestion then genius?’ She exaggeratedly places her index finger on her lips and looks up, thinking.

‘I know. Come with me.’ Taking my hand, she leads me through Finsbury Square and over London Wall to Old Broad Street. The City feels alive with Lauren next to me. She tells me she loves the City, with its tall glass skyscrapers comfortably sitting next to medieval stone buildings. So modern and yet, at the same time, so steeped in history. We round a corner and press on.

‘Where are we going?’ I ask.

‘Because I am fortunate and cool I will take you to somewhere very few people ever go,’ she replies.

‘Ooo, sounds exciting,’ I reply.

‘It is exciting.’ We walk on, the sound of her heels clip-clopping on the pavement. ‘I like your aftershave, what is it?’

‘Uh, Armani,’ I reply, unsure if I put any on before I came out. Either way I guess it’s a compliment. Suddenly, an image of Svetla hits me like a slap across the face. At some point during our time together, Svetla and I have walked down this street. In this exact way, arm in arm. The details are hazy but it feels like yesterday. I pull up suddenly, the copycat image of Svetla and I doing this same thing unsettling me. Lauren looks at me, frowning.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asks. Svetla. Lovely, lovely Svetla. What the hell am I doing here? I glance at Lauren, who stares at me with a quizzical look. ‘Ollie? What? What is it?’ she smiles, briefly.

‘I…’ I struggle to express a form of words to describe what’s happening.

‘You’re not going to go all weird on me now, are you?’ Lauren says, the smile dying.

‘No. Sorry, I just remembered something,’ I reply, my voice unconvincing and distant.

‘Okay. You wanna talk or..?’ Pull it together Ollie, right now, or this is going down the shithole.

‘No. I’m fine. Sorry, I don’t really know what happened there. Maybe I’m just overwhelmed by your beauty.’

‘Yeah right, that’s exactly what it looked like,’ she replies. I smile and we walk on but something deep inside me has changed. I’m now starting to look carefully at the situation I’m in. What exactly do I want from this? Another date? Sex? A relationship? I quickly realise I don’t know. Which then begs the inevitable question, why then, am I doing this at all? I don’t have the answers and somewhere deep down I know I need some to continue what has begun here. Stop it Ollie. Stop questioning everything you’re doing. She’s a nice girl, you’re having fun. As you said, this is one date. Come on, pull it together. Yes. Good.

‘Hey, you still with me?’ Lauren asks. I suddenly realise I’ve been internalising and haven’t engaged in conversation for almost half a block.

‘Yeah, sorry.’

‘We don’t have to go to this place if you’d rather not?’

‘Well I was just thinking, I’ve got to be up early.’

‘Okay. You work Saturday’s?’ she says. I nod.

‘Yeah. Sorry.’

‘Not a problem. Just need to say, that’s all. We haven’t got to the point here where I can read your mind,’ she says, smiling.

‘Sorry.’

‘Stop saying sorry.’ I nod, uncomfortable. She looks at me with a concerned expression. She knows something is wrong. Fuck it! She turns and looks around for a taxi. Spotting one, she holds her hand up.

‘Taxi!’ she calls. The black cab pulls over and we jump in.

I glance at the clock again. It’s four in the morning. I’ve been sitting here on the edge of the bed for the best part of an hour. Slightly drunk, confused and a little down. I’m sure it’s the alcohol aggravating the feelings but things feel wrong. What happened with Ashley, the abruptly halted date with Lauren and my entire relationship with Svetla. I miss her so bloody much. Must try not to go down the road of self pity. Just keep it together. The purpose of the exercise is to try and rationalise things in my head. I stare at the carpet, dark feelings seeping in and out of me. The thing is, I know I shouldn’t but I just want Svetla back. Could I…? Is that even possible? I don’t even know where she is. I hear a soft knock at my door and look up surprised. Was it a knock, or just the wind? I listen. Nothing. I stand and walk over to the door. I open it, as quietly as I can. No one there. I look out, down the corridor and just catch the living room door closing. Ashley had come to check on me. I consider going after her but something in me can’t face it. I close the door carefully and walk to the centre of the bedroom. I catch my reflection in wardrobe mirror. I stand and stare at myself. Who the hell are you? I sit back on the bed and throw my feet under the covers. I turn out the light and stare into the nothingness. I hear a brushing sound coming from under my door. I sit up and switch the light back on. A piece of paper sits under the door. I get out of bed, walk over and pick it up. She’s written me a note. It reads ‘Always here if you want to talk, Ash xx.’ Was I being loud? Don’t think so. Maybe I woke her when I came in? Who knows? I’m touched by her note though. I already feel a little better and this time I go straight to sleep.

I wake up a few hours later, my alarm smashing through the peaceful serenity of perfect deep sleep. I don’t want to work today. I get up and grudgingly pull on some clothes. I head into the kitchen and start making myself some coffee. I feel a presence behind me and turn around. Ashley is wearing a very short nightie and not much else. She yawns wide.

‘Morning,’ I whisper.

‘Hi,’ she says, half asleep. Her hair is splayed in random directions. ‘You making coffee?’ I look at the kettle, the pot of Nescafe and the empty mug. I turn back to her.

‘That’s right.’ She smiles and pushes me.

‘I’m so tired,’ she says, yawning again.

‘Why are you up, it’s early?’

‘Couldn’t sleep. You okay?’

‘Yeah,’ I reply, getting another mug.

‘Yeah?’ she tries to make eye contact with me.

‘I’m fine, really. Thanks for your note.’ She leans against the worktop and stretches almost to the point I can see everything that I, as a man, would ever want to.

‘You’re welcome,’ she says.

‘You hot or something?’ I ask, looking down at her bare legs which are visible almost up to her-

‘What?’ she replies, glancing down.

‘Doesn’t matter.’ The kettle boils and I pour some water into the mugs.

‘So did the date not work out?’

‘Now why would you think that?’

‘You wouldn’t be here if it went well,’ she says. Her logic is sound but I counter with,

‘Oh she wanted me, there’s no doubt. I just decided to take it slow.’

‘Right. Slow. You wanted to take your time.’

‘Exactly.’

‘So you’re out with a beautiful, stunning girl and you wanted to…wait.’

‘It’s not like that.’

‘Got to take the reins, move with purpose.’

‘Is that from your God book?’ I ask, spooning some sugar into the mugs. I then add a dash of milk.

‘No,’ she replies. She waits for a moment then says, ‘so you gonna see her again?’

‘I don’t know Ashley.’

‘Christ, you’re an amateur.’

‘Why are you so desperate for me to see her anyway? Jealous?’

‘Yes, so jealous that I’m actively encouraging you to see her again.’ I hand her the mug of coffee.

‘I think it’s just a cunning way of hiding your undying love for me,’ I say. Ashley fake-laughs loudly.

‘Shhh,’ I say, ‘Parker’s still asleep.’

‘Parker isn’t here.’

‘What?’

‘He didn’t come back last night.’

‘Again? Where is he then?’ I ask, frowning.

‘Hang on, let me get my crystal ball. Oh no, wait a minute…they don’t exist.’

I arrive at work ten minutes late. I hate the Northern Line. Have I mentioned that before? Well I do. I hate it. I can see why they coloured it black on the tube map. Christ, I’ve said that before as well. Let’s just…move on, shall we?

‘Hi Paul, sorry I’m late,’ I say, walking in a little flustered. Paul looks up from his paper.

‘I hadn’t realised you were late, but now you’re here you can make yourself useful and get the coffees in.’

‘What’s that about coffees? Are you getting some?’ Julie says, from behind her desk.

‘It appears I am, yes,’ I reply.

‘Mine’s a latte, thanks Ollie,’ she says. I nod. ‘Do you want some money?’

‘No, it’s fine. Penance for being late. What do you want Paul?’

‘My divorce papers to come through but short of that…double shot Cappuccino please.’

‘Right,’ I reply, unsure how to respond further.

I head upstairs to the canteen. This place is a real hoot. It’s like the contractors running it regret ever tendering for the contract and now actively try to provide the worst possible service they can. The only upside is the view of London from up here. About the only thing worth buying is the coffee. Just. As I head towards the coffee lady, my phone rings. I whip it out and stare at the display. My world is suddenly turned upside-down. ‘NEVER CALL THIS NUMBER…is calling.’ Oh. My. God. Suddenly I’m having trouble breathing. Calm. Deep breaths. And…calmly answer.

‘Hello?’ I say in a tone that says, ‘I’m so over you but I’m mature enough to be able to take your calls because you mean nothing to me.’

‘It’s Svetla,’ she says, her familiar voice and accent makes my heart ache with pain.

‘Hi?’

‘Hi. Sorry to call you but you know I left some things at your flat and I wonder if I can have them back?’ Her accent plays on my ear like a soft harmony.

‘Oh. That was like, six months ago.’

‘I wanted to wait. I didn’t need them until now.’

‘You want the old photos and books?’

‘Yes and my CD’s as well. If you still have them?’ Why wouldn’t I still have them? You think I burnt them, Svetla? You think I had a CD bonfire and I burnt your poxy Phil Collins Greatest Hits? Well I didn’t, because I am an adult.