Page 20 of The Day Shelley Woodhouse Woke Up
There’s a boy I like. He works behind the bar, and his name is Phil. Mark Riley, who I lost my virginity to, is long gone. Since him, there have been others. Jason, and Aaron, and Daniel. Now it’s Phil, who hasn’t shown the slightest bit of interest in me yet,but who my sights are very firmly set on. I’ve heard he’s staying behind tonight, and all through my shift I practise lines I might use, ways I might look. When the last revellers are being ushered out of the door, I sneak to the toilets with my makeup bag and do what I can to undo the toll the shift has taken on my face. New mascara, powder to cover the sheen of sweat, a spray of that citrussy perfume I love. I pull the band out of my hair and shake my head. I’d put it in a bun when it wasn’t quite dry, and now it’s falling in loose curls, just the way I’d hoped it would. I look okay. No, better than okay. I look good enough.
On my way out of the toilets, I’m in a hurry. I can almost taste the sweet sharpness of the vodka, lime and soda I’ll drink. The first one is always the best. The way it warms me, loosens me up. The way it calms me. I don’t see Phil until we’ve collided, and I step back, stunned, muttering apologies. Phil smiles his easy smile, the one I see him flashing to customers left, right and centre, which does something to my insides, and I feel my face flushing.
‘No harm done,’ he says. ‘Are you staying? There’s a drink on the bar with your name on it.’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I’m staying.’
‘Oh good, it’s just…’
‘What?’
‘You look nice. I thought maybe you had other plans.’
I know it is silly to be this pleased that he’s noticed the way I look. But I am. ‘No, no other plans.’
‘I’ll see you in a minute then,’ he says, jerking one thumb in the direction of the door to the Gents.
Annabelle is already draining her glass when I get to the bar. There’s a small crowd, everyone in good spirits now the work is over and it’s time to spend our tips on getting drunk.
‘Is this for Phil’s benefit?’ Annabelle asks, looking me up and down.
I nudge her, hard, and grab my drink from the bar. I know that by the time I have finished this drink and one more, I won’t care what Annabelle says, how obvious she makes it that I am interested in Phil. I’ve been hoping he’ll notice me for weeks, and I’ve decided tonight is the night. If he doesn’t kiss me tonight, I’ll move on.
He does though, kiss me. We’ve been drinking for a couple of hours, have been getting more and more flirty. Annabelle has left us to it, is round the corner playing cards with the guys who work in the kitchen. And I find I am sitting on Phil’s lap and don’t remember how I got there when he leans in, and we are kissing, and our remaining colleagues are jeering. I don’t care, but Phil whispers something about going outside, and I follow him, our fingers linked, and he kisses me again by the wall just outside the door, his hands roaming my body. Presses himself against me, slides a hand beneath my skirt.
‘Come on, let’s go to my car,’ he says.
I am drunk, my movements slow. ‘No,’ I say.
Phil has hold of both my hands, is pulling me. ‘Come on, I’m so fucking turned on right now.’
I shake my head. I don’t feel like I’m in danger. In the future, I will be in situations like this and I will be scared. But I am still young and I still believe in the good in people. At least some people.
‘I don’t want to. I’m going back inside.’
Phil shakes his head, like he’s mirroring me. ‘What the fuck, Shell? I thought you wanted this.’
I am a few feet away from him now, and I pause. I did want this, didn’t I? But it was his attention I wanted, his kisses, his touch. Not a quickie in the backseat of his car with the chance of any of our colleagues catching sight of our pale, naked bodies. I wanted him to ask me to go out for a drink. I wanted romance,and phone calls, and the way my insides melt when he smiles at me a certain way.
‘I don’t,’ I say.
‘Then why did you come out here with me?’ He’s angry, making big movements with his arms. He might not be conscious of it, but he’s showing me he’s the bigger, stronger one. ‘You’re a fucking prick tease.’
I want to say that I can kiss a guy, can come outside with him, without committing to having sex with him in his car. But the back door to the pub opens then, and Annabelle comes out. She looks from Phil to me and back again.
‘Are you okay?’ she asks me.
‘Yes, I was just coming back inside. Are you leaving?’
‘Not yet,’ Annabelle says.
I know that Annabelle knows something is wrong. That in the time I’ve been outside with Phil, something has shifted between us. It’s in the air, the disappointment and the resentment. Hanging.
‘Are you going home, Phil?’ Annabelle asks.
It’s only then that I notice he has his car key in his hand.
‘I guess I am,’ he says. All bravado gone.
