Our Stop(59)

In so many ways Daniel had had no right to get involved with him and Becky, but … he just knew it wasn’t right. He knew that Lorenzo would have taken Becky into his room if Daniel hadn’t have stopped him, and that was just wrong. Daniel had saved Becky from doing something she probably wouldn’t remember doing, but he’d saved Lorenzo from doing something he’d never be able to un-do too, no matter how blurred the line was. Daniel’s conscience told him there were no shades of grey here, even if Lorenzo would’ve argued for them.

Lorenzo had been gone all day Sunday and come home after Daniel had locked himself away in his room, but in the forty-eight hours since it happened, Daniel had convinced himself that he was absolutely right to have stood up for Becky that way, whether she knew it or not. Whether Lorenzo knew it or not.

‘Hello?’ Lorenzo yelled, appearing at the kitchen door. ‘Oh, hey man. I’m, erm … making pasta al salmone.’

Daniel nodded, and searched for clues as to who else was there.

‘I got in a bottle of Malbec too.’

Daniel scrunched up his nose. For him? Was this for him?

‘I’ll open it,’ Lorenzo said.

Daniel took off his jacket and threw it over the arm of the sofa as he heard the pop of a cork easing out of a bottle neck, and the sloshing of liquid against a glass. Lorenzo reappeared with two glasses and handed one over. Daniel took it.

‘I’d have thought you’d be hungover,’ Daniel said. ‘Still.’

‘I think you knocked my hangover out of me,’ Lorenzo said. If that was a joke, neither of them laughed.

They sipped their wine. Eventually, Daniel moved to sit at the table. He wasn’t sure what there was to talk about, really. There was nothing he really wanted to say.

‘I know the other night was stupid,’ Lorenzo said, awkwardly hovering by the table. ‘I … I know that. I was a twat.’ Daniel listened. He had been a twat, yes. It was good that he understood that. ‘And I texted Becky, and obviously she’s …’

He kept letting his sentences trail off. Daniel almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

‘She’s told me not to text her again. Which, erm, you know.’ And then his bottom lip wobbled and he burst into tears. A grown, thirty-something-year-old man with a bruise on his face and a glass of red wine in his hand let out a low guttural noise, like an animal in a trap.

‘Oh mate, I don’t know what happened,’ he said, wiping at his eyes and trying to pull himself back together. ‘We’d had sex before and I thought she was up for it. But she said …’

He trailed off.

Daniel’s resolve to stay angry softened – but only slightly.

‘I’m at a bit of a loss for words to be honest, mate,’ Daniel said. He took a sip of his wine, measuring out what he wanted to say. ‘I didn’t think you were like that. Like – pervy.’

Lorenzo nodded, his face scrunched up. ‘Are you gonna call the police?’

‘The police?’

‘To report me.’ Daniel thought he meant about the fight, which obviously he wasn’t going to do because he’d been just as much to blame. But then Lorenzo countered with, ‘To report what I did to Becky.’

Daniel opened and closed his mouth, settling on saying: ‘No. Of course not. Nothing technically happened, mate. But like – what if I wasn’t there? You know? That’s what’s …’ Now it was Daniel’s turn to struggle to finish full thoughts. He wished he’d never gone on Saturday night. He wished he’d stayed home, like he’d wanted to. He didn’t want to be having to explain the basics of consent to Lorenzo.

Lorenzo nodded. ‘I know. I feel sick about it. Because if you hadn’t – I mean, I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong. But Becky says I should’ve known better. Her text was pretty brutal. She didn’t pull any punches. And she’s right. And I’m really fucking embarrassed.’

‘Not to sound like your dad or anything, but I’m proper disappointed in you.’

‘I know.’

Lorenzo sat down in the armchair across the room. Daniel drank. Lorenzo stared at the floor.

‘It’s just not that hard, you know? She doesn’t have to say no for it to not be a yes.’

‘I know,’ said Lorenzo, shaking his head. ‘I know that now.’

Daniel didn’t know how to end the conversation. He was so, so mad that his flatmate could be so stupid.

Ah, that’s interesting, he thought to himself. You called him flatmate and not friend.

And just like that, Daniel had inserted the emotional distance between him and Lorenzo.

‘I’ll go and plate up this food,’ Daniel said, eventually. ‘I appreciate you cooking.’





35


Nadia


Weeks passed. Nadia saw Eddie a few times a week and spent most weekends with him. He’d met both Gaby and Emma only once, since they both seemed increasingly hard to get hold of, but they’d liked him and said encouraging things, and yes, Gaby had texted afterwards to say: Listen, he’s wonderful, but before you get in too deep I really do think you should meet Sky Garden Guy! Like, really, really!!!!!

Nadia had texted back a GIF of one of the Real Housewives of Atlanta shaking her head and saying, ‘Nooooo, thank you!’ and neither of them had brought it up again. Nadia just needed Gaby to understand that she was fine as she was. She’d said herself Eddie was a good guy. What was she supposed to do? Forever believe that good was not good enough, and that she had to strive for amazing or earth-shattering? No. Nadia was happy with Eddie, who was everything a boyfriend should be. Kind of. Probably. Okay, she was forcing it a tiny-weeny bit, but what choice did she have? This man was very into her, and she’d be crazy not to be into him too. And she did love his company. Her heart would catch up with her mind.