Page 46 of Wish You Knew
When I got back to London, the buzz of the city hit me. Even after only a few nights away, the peace and quiet of the countryside now seemed distant. I pushed past the queues, hopped on the Tube and headed back to the sanctuary of my house.
Not bothering to unpack, I stretched out on the sofa, trying to work out how I felt.
A tiny part of me wished I had confronted Scott last night. Although trying to wrangle with a drunk Scott was never easy, let alone when I thought I had something pretty serious I wanted to talk to him about. Maybe I should have persisted instead of running off. He had done the same to me though, so we were even.
And at least now I knew exactly what we were to each other.
Nothing.
Tears formed in the corners of my eyes again. It was pointless getting so upset. Friends with benefits, a hook up, fuck buddy, whatever you wanted to call it.
How was it possible to get upset over something you’d never really had in the first place?
23
Scott
Gin. Fucking gin.
Mother’s ruin.
Scott’s ruin more like.
Fuck.
I attempted to open my eyes. The pounding in my head certainly wasn’t going away anytime soon either.
I deserved every single beat of pain.
Rolling onto my side, I grabbed my phone. The screen was blank and when I pressed the home button, nothing happened. Dead. Like my heart. I fumbled under the bed for the charger and plugged it in.
After a couple of minutes, the screen burst into life. Squinting, I tried to work out what the messages said.
Bas: I’m heading home, doesn’t look like you need me as a wing man tonight, lol
Ah, shit. I dragged a hand down my face. The memories of last night were hazy to say the least. The image of Rosie walking away in tears was one I wasn’t going to forget in a hurry though. A vague recollection of trying to chat up one of the locals, until her husband arrived, but that was about it. There was no sign of anyone else in the bed or in the room, so it looked likely I had come home alone. How I would explain that to Rosie was a topic for when my brain functioned properly.
Mat: you got any more songs for us? Dec’s been working like crazy to come up with something for you.
I sensed there could be a few about heartbreak, if I could be bothered to drag my arse out of bed today. Right now, the prospect of pulling the duvet over my head and ignoring the world was a strong pull.
Saff: We need to talk about you and Rosie. Call me.
I deleted Saff’s message straight away. If I didn’t have to see it, I didn’t have to think about what a complete prick I’d been. How did she know what had happened last night already?
Declan: here you go. Does this work?
He’d attached a sound file and I half-heartedly clicked play.
Soft, acoustic chords came out of the speaker, along with Dec’s shit singing voice. He’d taken the chorus I’d sent and worked his magic on it, weaving a melody which rose and fell and built to something epic. Exactly how I’d expected him to, only far, far better.
I sat bolt upright in bed, the sudden movement jarring my brain.
It was absolute fucking perfection.
Imagining it fully mixed and produced brought goose bumps to my skin. I sang along with the track, covering Dec’s atrocious attempts, my voice cracking from lack of sleep and too much alcohol.
A loud knock on the door stopped me in my tracks.
