Hanging on a hook there’s a battered straw hat covered in tinsel. There’s a tired-looking plastic Christmas tree, and three empty wine bottles that look like they’ve been dumped on the floor by the door, waiting to go out in the recycling bin. The house smells of stale beer and leftover pizza, like a student flat. I guess the New Year celebrations must have been ongoing. I creep upstairs and open the door to my room. Becky has made up the bed (I love her so much for that at this moment that I could run upstairs and hug her, but something tells me she wouldn’t appreciate that) and the curtains are drawn.
I dump my case and my bag, and sit down on the edge of the bed for a moment. I feel completely wide awake, and as I sit there I realise that next door, with only a wall between us, is Alex. And – I hear a clonking noise, and the sound of footsteps – I realise he’s awake. I could go and say hi. That would be perfectly normal, if he’s awake. I mean admittedly it’s – I check my watch – quarter past six in the morning, but maybe he’s an early bird. I might just pop to the loo, and if I happen to bump into him … well, that’s just coincidence, isn’t it? Totally normal coincidence.
(Yes, I’ll check my face in the mirror while I’m in there, wipe the eyeliner smudges from underneath my eyes, and fluff up my hair. I do that every time I go to the loo. Doesn’t everyone?)
I open my bedroom door, and his door opens at exactly the same time. My heart gives a massive thump against my ribcage. This is meant to be.
And then Emma walks out, and heads towards the bathroom. She doesn’t turn around, so she doesn’t see me, and as the bathroom door closes I recoil backwards into my room like a snail into its shell, then floomp onto the bed with a groan. Why on earth is Emma coming out of Alex’s room? If they’ve swapped bedrooms, that means he’s across the other side of the stairwell, and I’ve been stealthily listening to her getting ready for work. She’s exactly the sort of person who would get up at six a.m. She’s probably done yoga already, and now she’s going to drink some green juice and meditate before she does an hour of paperwork then goes into the office. She’s a proper grown-up.
And then I realise that I’m still desperate for the loo, so I stand up and open my bedroom door, just as Emma walks out of the bathroom.
‘Oh! Jess. Hi,’ she says in a whisper, smiling with her perfect teeth. ‘Have you just got back? Did you have a lovely time?’
‘It was amazing,’ I say, and then I open my mouth again to ask if they’ve swapped rooms in my absence, and close it when I realise that she’s walking past me, in a kimono-style dressing gown made of some sort of swishy silk material, and heading for the bedroom at the end of the hall. Her bedroom.
I lean back against the door of my room, and it sinks in. Emma, our beautiful housemate, has spent the night with Alex.
CHAPTER FOUR
Alex
3rd January
Oh. My. God. My head feels like someone used it as a punchbag. I reach down the side of the bed where Past Me has thoughtfully left half a bottle of Coke. It’s completely flat and tastes like crap, but it washes down the double dose of ibuprofen and paracetamol I’m hoping might crack this hangover. What the hell was I thinking last night? Today’s going to be a killer – a twelve-hour shift in A&E, full of half-pissed Christmas casualties (and that’s just the staff). Oh bollocks – and I’ve just remembered that effing assignment I was supposed to do last night on Modern Nursing Practices and the Something of Something.
I rub my chin. And I need to get my beard sorted before I tip over into looking like someone who’s been lost in a cave for a month. God, I should’ve been working that essay last night and yet instead I found myself sharing a bottle of red with Emma. And another one. And – I open one eye carefully, because it feels like someone’s shining lasers in my direction – how the hell did I end up in bed with her, when I’d made a resolution that the