Wish You Weren't Here, page 12
‘They must have short memories,’ he says with a smile. ‘No one mentioned it when I booked. But you will be pleased to hear that I not only don’t have a ground-floor room this time, but I’m overlooking the river. I haven’t spent much time in it, beyond checking in, but it didn’t seem like anyone could see in. Weirdly, it felt a bit like being on a cruise.’
I laugh.
‘Well, it doesn’t get much more private than a cruise ship window, does it?’ I reply.
‘Actually, I went on a cheap cruise with my mates, and we had digital windows,’ he tells me. ‘We must have been so low in the ship that we were underwater. So, where a window would usually be, they had this screen with a fake view. Of course, I was sharing a room with my mate Tommo, and you don’t get less private than that.’
I laugh.
‘Let’s just say one night he brought a girl back, and I wanted to jump out of the digital window,’ he tells me, widening his eyes for effect. ‘I ended up sleeping on a sunlounger, on the deck.’
‘I hope you were somewhere warm,’ I reply.
He purses his lips and shakes his head.
‘Right, here we are,’ he says, opening the door for me to step inside.
And suddenly I’m back in time, two years ago, feeling all the same things that I did back then. It’s like muscle memory, walking through the door, passing through reception – my body thinks it’s going to get a repeat of what happened the last time we were here. Body, you need to calm down!
We step into the lift together. I should change the subject, I know I should, but…
‘Do you make a habit of sleeping in places that you shouldn’t?’ I ask him.
I notice him smiling to himself in the mirrored lift wall.
‘Not as often as it would seem,’ he replies. ‘Although Jennifer’s office has to be the weirdest.’
We fall silent for a second again. I open my mouth to speak just as the lift doors ding, so I retreat back into the silence.
We walk along the corridor, finally approaching Ethan’s room. He unlocks the door and then steps aside, for me to head in first.
Oh, wow, what a beautiful room. I don’t know what this old building used to be but there are exposed wooden beams and pieces of old metal machinery that have been artfully preserved to give the place character. I’m like a moth to a flame when it comes to the windows though. I hurry over, trying not to make eye contact with the super-king bed as I pass it, and look outside. It really does feel like being on a boat – just one that is floating through Leeds city centre. I can see Bridgewater Place in one direction, Brewery Wharf in the other. The water below looks so flat and peaceful, with lights reflecting on it. You can tell it’s cold out there just by looking (of course, I already knew that from first-hand – or should that be first-arse – experience), but it’s so cosy in here.
Ethan stands next to me, mirroring my position, with his elbows on the windowsill.
‘It’s even more beautiful now,’ he says.
He turns to face me, his chin resting on his hands.
Every instinct I have right now is either telling me to kiss him or to run out of here and never come back.
‘What are you thinking?’ he asks me.
Should I tell him the truth? No.
‘Just about how lovely it is in here,’ I reply. ‘You?’
‘I was thinking about how much I want to kiss you,’ he tells me.
‘That did pop into my mind,’ I admit.
Ethan slowly stands up straight. Then he places his hands on my sides and lifts me up, sitting me down on the windowsill. The glass feels cold on my back so I lean forward towards him, wrapping my legs around his waist, hooking my arms around his neck. Okay, this really is like muscle memory.
He presses his face into my neck but he doesn’t kiss it, he just rubs his face up against it for a second, his hands exploring my back – almost like he’s giving me a moment to think about it and, yep, thought about it.
‘We said we would never do this again,’ I remind him – not exactly sounding like I never want to do it again.
‘I think it was more that we never should do it again,’ he clarifies, his voice super soft and silky smooth.
I chew my lip thoughtfully.
I want him. I really want him, but…
‘No, you’re right,’ he tells me – and it’s only as he says this that I realise it’s the opposite of what I want to hear.
‘You love an audience, don’t you?’ I reply. ‘Here, in front of the window…’
‘Well, the first time we did it, we were in the bathroom,’ he reminds me – as though I could forget. ‘No audience in the shower.’
I know I shouldn’t, but…
‘Maybe we should go into the bathroom then,’ I say.
Ethan picks me up gently, only to place me back on the floor. It feels like it takes an hour, to walk from the window to the bathroom, but we get there, he turns the light on and – would you believe it – there’s no shower. Just a bath.
‘Ah,’ I blurt, hoping this isn’t a sign from the universe that we need to stop this right now.
‘I mean, baths are romantic, right?’ he points out. ‘Bath? It looks big enough for two…’
‘Yeah,’ I say, not sounding entirely convinced, but I’m just being silly, right? The universe doesn’t give signs.
‘I’ll run it,’ he says. ‘You go sit through there.’
Let me tell you now, nothing kills the moment like pausing to run a bath. It’s a long pause that we do not need right now, because it’s giving me a chance to think things through.
Ethan joins me, sitting next to me on the bed.
‘The bath is filling,’ he tells me. ‘Unless you’ve changed your mind? Your face looks like it’s changed its mind.’
I laugh.
‘It’s not that I’ve changed my mind,’ I begin. ‘It’s just that… there’s a reason we said we would never do this again, but every time we do, we seem to cause trouble. Last time—’
‘Last time we were drunk,’ he reminds me.
‘I know but, still, think of the chaos we almost caused,’ I say. ‘I like to have a drink, and a good time, but there’s something about you that just makes me absolutely nuts. Like, if you told me to jump off a cliff, and you said it while you didn’t have a shirt on, I’d backflip off the thing.’
Ethan laughs.
‘It’s like you think we’re cursed,’ he says. ‘Like we’re doomed to cause a major incident.’
‘Can you blame me?’ I reply. ‘Look what we almost did, in Jennifer’s office.’
‘That was just a freak accident,’ he reassures me.
‘It was like a Final Destination accident,’ I remind him. ‘I mean, come on, we caused water damage, then fire damage, then water damage again.’
‘Well, that last one was for the fire,’ he points out with a cheeky grin.
Honestly, I don’t even know that happened. I mean, I do, it was because we were too busy getting busy to realise we had knocked over a bottle of champagne, flooding an electric heater with the contents – which we had on, because it was cold – which started smoking and sizzling and then… it’s all a blur, I think Ethan threw water over it, to stop any sort of fire in its tracks, I managed to knock over the framed photo of Jennifer and her family while I was frantically trying to turn the power off, and it was just mess on mess, on chaos, on mess.
‘We sorted it out,’ he reminds me. ‘And no one ever found out.’
‘But if they had found out, I would have lost my job,’ I say. ‘I could have been in even more trouble than that – especially if we had caused more damage. We could have burned the place to the ground.’
‘Isn’t that everyone’s fantasy?’ he replies. ‘To burn their office down?’
I can’t help but laugh because he’s got a point.
‘We fixed, sure, but the way we fixed – it felt unhinged, what we did. It was psychotic, sociopath shit,’ I remind him.
‘It was also the coolest thing I’ve ever done, and the most alive I’ve ever felt, and just something about doing it together – I don’t know – as awful as it was, and as stressed as I was, looking back it only makes it seem hotter. And, hey, we work great together as a team.’
I mean, we did work great together as a team that night. We knew we had made a mess, and that we would be in big trouble if anyone found out, so we set about covering it up. Sure, there was no way to make everything as it was when we found it, so what we needed to do was offer an alternative narrative, a different version of events that could have brought about the same accident. It was the middle of the night and we were still drunk, so I’ll never know how we pulled it off, but some careful arranging of a window that was ‘left open’, and a plant that was knocked over, and a cup of coffee Jennifer clearly never finished (in her favourite ‘If I’m too much then go find less’ mug) tipped over in just the right (or technically wrong) way and it actually looked like a genuine accident. What’s interesting is that Jennifer must have thought it was her fault, because when I came into the office the next day there was no mention of it. She genuinely believed it was a mistake she had made, and so she covered it up for us. It really was the perfect crime and, yes, I do feel like a psycho saying that. It was also the reason we ended up swearing we would never see each other again, if that was the kind of mess we were going to make. We’d already had the incident with the blinds, and the trouble we caused on the night out before that. Thinking about it now just reminds me of how close we came to throwing it all away and for what, a shag? A few shags? A few incredible shags, fair enough, but there’s good sex and then there’s burning an office block down.
A loud thumping on the door snaps me from my thoughts. I look to Ethan, concerned.
‘Stay here,’ he tells me.
I don’t know what the problem is but I just know it’s going to be something – something that we’ve done, or caused, or happened because of us. Maybe it’s the police because they think I drugged Pat. Maybe it’s Jennifer, because she’s got me bugged, and I just confessed to the crime we made her cover up. Maybe it’s Steve with an axe. All I know is that whatever it is, it’s bad news, and it’s because we’re together.
Fuck you, universe.
23
I place my index finger silently over my lips and widen my eyes in Ethan’s direction to let him know that I’m being serious. He has to be quiet.
It takes me the best part of a minute to place my key in the lock and turn it ever so softly, making sure that my other keys don’t make a tinkling sound, that the lock doesn’t make too much noise as it turns, that the door hasn’t suddenly developed a new extra-loud creak (or that Steve hasn’t fitted it with one of those bells that shops have, so that you know when customers walk in).
I hold up my hand, letting Ethan know to stay put in the doorway, before creeping in to peer around into the living room, to make sure that Steve hasn’t sat up waiting for me. It’s not like he hasn’t done it before.
Without saying a word, I beckon Ethan indoors with my hand. Impressively, he manages to close the door and lock it without much of a sound. Now all that’s left to do is make it to my bedroom.
Steve is normally very strict about this being a ‘shoes off at the door’ home, but do you know what makes him even angrier than that? Me fraternising with boys. The best thing I can do is get the two of us safely to my bedroom, where we can hide out for the rest of the night, and then I’ll either sneak Ethan out as soon as it’s morning, or I’ll keep him here until Steve goes to work. Lucky for me (not that any part of this feels lucky in any way) I’m off work tomorrow, to get the last of my things ready, before flying in the early hours of the next day. This is my last full night of sleep before I catch my flight to Sydney, and this is how I’m spending it. Incredible.
Ethan carries his suitcase so that it doesn’t make any noises that might wake up Steve. He’s great at sneaking into flats, which makes me wonder if it’s a skill he picked up by sneaking out of them.
Inside my room, I close the door carefully behind me and finally exhale.
‘So, the walls aren’t that thick,’ I whisper to him. ‘But if we stick to whispering, we should be okay.’
‘Great,’ he calls back.
I don’t turn on the big light – not just because only psychopaths like the big light on, but because it feels more incognito to only turn on the dim light next to my bed.
‘Oh,’ Ethan blurts – still keeping his voice nice and quiet. ‘You only have a single bed.’
‘And you don’t have any other options,’ I tell him.
‘I can sleep on the floor, it’s all good,’ he replies.
I know that’s probably the safest thing to do, but I can’t be so cruel.
‘Don’t be daft, it’s freezing,’ I reply. ‘I’m sure we’re safe to share a bed. The universe only gets mad if it thinks we’re going to have sex.’
Ethan laughs, silently, and rolls his eyes.
‘So long as you don’t think it will cause a threat to society,’ he replies sarcastically.
I take off my things – my clothes and my jewellery, but I decide that my make-up can stay on for tonight – and climb into my sad little single bed. Ethan takes off his shirt, then his trousers, and I’m pretty sure he’s only doing it in a normal way, but the thirst trap is real regardless. This is like pay-per-view stuff.
I avert my eyes quickly, although I’m pretty sure he catches me looking because I notice his smile creeping onto his face.
Finally, Ethan gets into bed next to me. At first, he tries to go back to back with me, but he’s a muscular bloke, so we struggle to both fit.
‘There’s only one way you’ll fit, you’ll have to lie facing me,’ I tell him.
‘There are definitely other ways we could fit better,’ he points out. ‘We’d stack on top of each other better than we’d fit side by side.’
I laugh softly.
Ethan does as instructed, spooning up behind me. His body fits with mine perfectly. It feels as though he goes to put an arm around me, almost instinctively, but then he quickly returns it to his side.
For a moment we’re just silent. I can feel the heat from his body, his breath on my shoulder, his hips pressed tightly up against my own.
‘I can’t believe you tricked me into your single bed,’ he jokes, lightening the mood.
‘I mean, if we’re saying things we can’t believe – I can’t believe you flooded a hotel,’ I reply.
‘Erm, you mean we flooded a hotel,’ he corrects me. ‘That bath was for the two of us.’
‘Okay, but you were the one who left it running,’ I point out.
‘You were the one distracting me,’ he replies. ‘It was an honest mistake – I can’t believe they kicked us out.’
‘They said they were fully booked,’ I say, shrugging my shoulders.
‘Yeah, well, I would have kicked us out too,’ he says, laughing quietly. ‘And don’t shrug your shoulders because when you do, your bum wiggles – now is not the time to be bumping and grinding on me. Unless you’re actually planning on bumping and grinding on me, that is.’
‘Sorry,’ I say, smiling to myself.
I subtly but intentionally arch my back, pressing myself against him slightly.
‘You’re doing that on purpose,’ he says.
‘Doing what?’ I reply, making it a bit more obvious this time.
‘Hey, you’re the one who’s too scared to go through with it,’ he points out. ‘I could do this all night…’
‘I know you could,’ I reply. ‘But having sex with you is like a bin fire.’
‘Can I put that on my sex CV, please?’ he asks jokily.
‘Sorry, I don’t mean that as bad as it sounds, it’s just that, you know, it’s really hot and it’s really dirty but it’s…’
‘A bin?’ he replies.
‘Yeah, so as much as I want to do this…’
I wiggle back into him with intent, even though I know I shouldn’t, and the universe is in there like a shot. My sad little single bed gives way, crashing to the floor with a loud bang. There is no way Steve didn’t hear that.
‘Shit,’ I say under my breath – not that there’s much need for that now. ‘Can you hide?’
‘Where, under the bed?’ he jokes as he glances around.
It’s too late. The bedroom door flies open.
‘Lana, what the hell?’ Steve replies.
It’s Steve, wearing his green stripy PJs and a face like thunder.
I look to Ethan, just in case he’s managed to hide in time, but all he’s done is lie face down on the mattress – the mattress that is now on the floor.
‘Lana?’ he prompts me again.
‘Oh my God, I don’t know what happened, the bed just broke,’ I say with a faux innocence that he’s not buying.
‘Lana, this is so, so disrespectful,’ he replies. ‘I generously give you a place to stay and you have sex in my bed? You know the rules about having guests. What’s wrong with him?’
Oh, so it’s his bed? So he gets to say who can and can’t sleep in it? And Ethan is genuinely playing dead right now and, honestly, it’s an impressive tactic. Thankfully Steve doesn’t recognise him from work.
‘He’s sleeping. We had nowhere else to go,’ I begin, but he’s not having it.
‘I hear round the back of Wetherspoons is perfect for this sort of thing.’
I know, now isn’t the time to make a joke, but do I let a silly thing like that stop me? No. No, I do not.
‘Which Wetherspoons?’ I ask.
Ethan falters ever so slightly, his chest bouncing as he laughs. Luckily only I notice.
‘Lana, you have taken advantage of me for long enough,’ Steve barks, not seeing the funny side to this at all. ‘I want you out of here. I know you’re going to Australia tomorrow so, go, get your trip over with, and then when you come back I want your things gone. And I want him out of here, before I wake up. Clear?’
‘Clear,’ I repeat back to him.
Steve slams the door behind him, before heading back to bed. Safe in the knowledge that the coast is clear, Ethan rolls onto his back.
