Our Stop(49)

Okay, she was tricking herself into thinking she was fine, but genuine okayness was sure to follow, wasn’t it?

‘Cheers,’ said Eddie, motioning at her with his glass, and Nadia raised hers in the air to meet it.

‘Here’s to doing it the old-fashioned way,’ she said, sounding a lot more confident than she felt.

She really wasn’t going to stay long.





29


Nadia


Nadia’s alarm went off at 6 a.m. She’d set her phone to go off automatically every day, since she kept getting drunk the night before and forgetting, but she hadn’t remembered to turn it off as she went to bed last night, distracted as she was by Eddie kissing behind her ear, down her neck, gently and slowly making his way to her front, to her breasts, her stomach, to her—

‘Shit.’

She hit the alarm off. Her head hurt. Eddie didn’t move. He slept on his front with his head turned away from her, lightly snoring with every inhale. Nadia sat up and blinked slowly, rubbing at her eyes. It was light outside, but not as light as it had been. The days are getting shorter, she thought, her hangover evidently making her grumpy and partial to depressing sayings her grandmother used to utter. It was hardly the bleak midwinter. It just felt that way, in her head.

She looked over at the man beside her. How the hell had that happened? And then it came back to her. A dare. A bet. A challenge that she’d lost, and drank a shot for. Tequila, she thought, bile rising in her throat at the memory of it. She couldn’t remember how long she had stayed for, or why Eddie’s friend hadn’t arrived. She picked up her phone to a text from Gaby: Glad you’re having fun! it said. The only message Nadia had sent before that was, GETTING VERY DRUNK QUITE HANDSOME. Gaby wouldn’t have known that she didn’t mean Train Guy. She meant … oh god. This guy.

She padded to the bathroom and ran the shower. Memories continued to come back to her in pieces: her hand on Eddie’s arm as she laughed, Eddie’s hand on her upper thigh as he whispered something, another round being ordered, and then another. She hadn’t meant to sleep with him. Hadn’t meant to let it all go that far.

Oh god, she thought, filled with regret. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

She peed – a radioactive pee, as dark as her head felt – and turned to run a shower. She could smell the alcohol evaporating as she stood under water so hot it was almost scalding, slowly waking up.

‘Morning, beautiful.’

Eddie pulled back the shower curtain, letting in the cold air. Nadia instinctively covered her boobs and crossed her legs, which was weird considering some of the things Eddie had seen last night.

‘I’ll take a piss and then climb in,’ he said, leaning across with puckered lips. Nadia didn’t know what to do. She leaned to meet him and their lips pecked. He smiled in response and disappeared again.

Nadia listened to him pee and – wait. Could she smell it too? Could she smell his piss? Eddie was whistling to himself, almost cheerfully, and Nadia wondered how he could function. Maybe her headache was as much of an emotional one as a drink-enforced one – she remembered, now, that Train Guy had stood her up, and her tummy sank all over again. That bastard.

Her water ran cold as Eddie flushed the toilet. Nadia turned around to wash her face, thinking maybe the cold water would close her pores (wasn’t that a good thing? Helpful for clear skin?) and then there was another shot of air behind her and Eddie hugged her from behind. She could smell his morning breath.

‘Last night was amazing,’ he said.

Nadia didn’t know what to say. She wanted to say, Excuse me, do you mind? Can I shower alone? You’re being horribly presumptuous.

But instead she smiled weakly and said, ‘I’ll get you a toothbrush.’

Barely rinsing off – she’d wonder all day why her head felt itchy, and then remember that she hadn’t washed out the conditioner properly – she inched past Eddie’s wet body.

‘Hey,’ he said, grabbing her in a moist embrace. ‘Come here.’

He was acting like her boyfriend. Like they’d been together weeks or months, not like they’d just met last night – literally, not even twelve hours ago. Nadia didn’t know the polite way to tell him not to be so clingy, not least when, to his credit, he’d done a superb job of being a gentleman and making sure she came again and again the night before, her pleasure as much centre-stage as his own. That was a low barrier for a lover, and yet true nonetheless. Nadia had slept with many a man who didn’t seem to care less if she came or not – and most certainly performed with the idea that sex was over once he had come. Eddie had been generous and thoughtful, at least. On reflection, he couldn’t possibly have been as drunk as she was.

‘Hmmmm,’ she said, barely grazing his cheek with her lips and ducking out.

As she got dressed in her bedroom he appeared in the doorway, naked and dripping.

‘I think you took the only towel,’ he said. Nadia’s jaw dropped. He was hard, and it was obviously an invitation. He reached for the damp towel she’d discarded on the bed.

‘I’ll just use this,’ he said, leaning over provocatively. He held her eye and Nadia looked at his crotch and he loved that she was looking but she hated that she was. She pulled her eyes away and busied herself in the mirror. She picked up and put down several pots: moisturizer and eye cream and primer, everything designed to make her look more human than she felt. Eddie dried himself off behind her, and then executed his most shocking, perverted act of the morning: he began politely making the bed.