Page 125 of Forever, Maybe
With no time left to stand on ceremony, he shot out of the bed, pushed past the woman and bolted the door shut. Ensuite bathrooms, Nell often claimed, were the least romantic thing in the world. Who wanted to listen to their partner taking a shit?
The woman who was not Daniel’s partner, however, didn’t have much of a choice. His stomach gurgled ominously, then erupted in a series of mortifying explosions. Loud, echoing farts punctuated the room, followed by the inevitable, earth-shattering conclusion.
Head hung low, Daniel sat on the toilet, a toxic cocktail of misery, shame and guilt swirling inside him. It took him five minutes to scrape together enough courage to re-emerge.
She was on the bed when he returned, propped against the pillows, a glossy magazine splayed across her lap. She didn’t look up until he cleared his throat.
“Don’t tell me. Dodgy curry, right?”
His jeans and T-shirt lay crumpled in a heap on the floor. Daniel stooped to grab them, scanning the room for his boxers. No sign. The small lump at the foot of the bed was the likeliest suspect but retrieving them would mean squeezing past her.
She wouldn’t want him anywhere near her.
With fingers clumsy from humiliation and the lingering haze of a hangover, pulling on his jeans and T-shirt became an exercise in frustration. Each snagged seam felt like a cosmic punishment.
“I’m… I’m sorry. Um…” He hesitated, the question burning on his tongue. “Did we…?”
Her top lip curled. “Me and ma friends need tae be at the airport for eight. You better get yerself gone.”
He nodded, swallowing hard. “Sorry. Again.”
He wanted to ask—no, seriously, did we shag? I can’t remember a lot of last night—but the answer terrified him more than the mystery.
One trainer by the door, the other next to the bed, socks scattered across the room. As he gathered them, a blurry memory surfaced: him balling them up and flinging them, the woman laughing.
The Nokia on the bedside table buzzed. She answered it with a brisk “Aye, I’ll be wi’ you in ten. Just packing ma stuff.”
Without looking at him, she flicked her fingers in a shooing motion he took to mean,get out of my sight. Daniel mumbled another apology and bolted for the door.
Behind him, her voice filtered through the crack as she spoke to her friend. “Oh my God, you won’t believe what’s just happened. Fuckingdisgusting.”
For one reckless second, he thought about loitering in the hallway to catch more of her conversation. Maybe she’d say something definitive. Maybe she’d confirm if—
The door opposite opened, and an older man stepped out, tucking his shirt into trousers strained over an abdomen like a small beach ball. He shot Daniel a knowing grin.
“You somewhere you shouldn’t be too, mate?”
The man held up his left hand, wagging the fourth finger where a wedding ring dug deep into his flesh.
“What happens in Amsterdam stays in Amsterdam, eh? That’s what I always say!”
He capped it off with a lewd wink that instantly lumped them into the same sordid category.
Daniel fled. He sprinted out onto the street, gulping in the cool morning air, his heart hammering against his ribs as he glanced around. Panic clawed at his throat.
Where the hell was this hotel and how was he going to get back to the one where Joe and the others were staying? Preferably before any of them woke up and realised he’d spent the night elsewhere.
The phone in his leather jacket pocket vibrated. A text from Nell. Beforehand, he had warned her not to do that. Phone calls and text messages sent or received when you were abroad cost a fortune.
How’s the head? Hope you and Joe steered clear of the Red Light District! X
Dear God in Govan. Daniel set off in what he hoped was the right direction, his eyes scanning the city’s skyline for anything familiar that might steer him toward the hotel he’d dutifully booked six weeks ago, back when his cousin announced his wedding.
Amsterdam had been Joe’s idea.
Aye, it’s cheap, the flight’s only an hour and a half! You can smoke dope in the cafés, and the strip clubs are amazin’!
Daniel hadn’t relayed that part to Nell. But even without the details, she’d wriggled her eyebrows.
