Bad For Me (2 page)

Chapter 2

“What’s wrong with you today, Megan?”

Sarah was my manager at the coffee shop. She'd been really patient with me when I started there—I hadn’t known a latte from a bowl of soup. She could have fired me a dozen times in my first month, but she'd kept the faith, and I'd soon learned the ropes. Only last week, Sarah had told me I was her best worker. She probably said that to all the staff, but I didn’t care. It had made me feel good.

“Sorry, Sarah.” It was the second cup I'd smashed that day.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine,” I lied. I was still pissed off about the previous night. Julie and JJ had come back to the flat after their night out. She'd insisted on talking me through every course of their meal. Thanks Julie—that was just what I'd needed after I’d made do with a pot noodle for my supper. Worse still, JJ had had another dig at my college course. That had done it for me. I didn’t care how hot he was—he was a pig. A smarmy, know-it-all pig. I'd gone to bed early—I'd told them I was feeling tired, but the truth was I couldn’t bear to be in the same room as him for another minute. Even then, he’d managed to get one last ‘Megs’ in before I'd turned in. What a prick!

I hated it when it was quiet at work. Time dragged. I much preferred to be run off my feet—that way my shift flew by. It was Wednesday, and Wednesdays were always slow. There were only four of us on duty—half as many as at the weekend. Even so, it was more than we needed to keep pace with the trickle of customers who came in during the afternoon. There had been a bit of a rush during the lunch hour, but after that it had been soooo slow.

Sarah was on her break, so I was manning the till. Carol was making the drinks. She was a great barista—she'd been on all of the courses, and had won a regional award. I'd no idea how she remembered all the different combinations, but she never seemed to break sweat.

“Large latte. Extra shot please.”

I'd been looking down at the rota for the following week, but immediately recognised the voice.

“JJ? What are you doing here?”

Did this guy always look so good?

“I was just passing.” That smile again. I really wanted to punch out those teeth, but at the same time I wanted to feel those lips on mine—damn him for being so hot.

“Large latte. Extra shot?”

“Got it in one. I’ll have a chocolate muffin too please, Megs.”

“Megan!”

“Julie was right. You really are touchy about your name.”

“My name is Megan. What’s so difficult about that?”

“Everything okay, Megan?” Sarah was back from her break.

“Everything’s fine. This gentleman would like a latte with an extra shot, and a chocolate muffin.”

“I’ll see to that. You take your break.” Sarah eased me away from the counter. She knew I’d already had a break, but she could tell I was about to lose it.

“What was that all about?” Sarah joined me in the staff room five minutes later.

“I’m sorry. He’s my flat mate’s brother.”

“So?”

“He’s a prick.”

“He may be a prick, but when he’s in here, he’s a customer.”

“I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“What's he done to upset you?”

“Breathed, walked, talked—you name it.”

When I returned to the front of shop, JJ was sitting at a table in the far corner. I thought I’d better go over and make my peace with him. After all, he was Julie’s brother—I didn’t want there to be an atmosphere between us.

“I’m sorry I lost my temper,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster, which wasn’t much.

“Don’t sweat it. I was only teasing.”

“Is the coffee all right?”

“It’s awful.”

“What?” I noticed the smirk. “Teasing again?”

“Sorry. I can’t help it. Did you know your nose wrinkles when you're mad?”

“Wrinkles?” I touched the tip of my nose. My nose doesn't wrinkle—my nose had never wrinkled.

“It’s cute. You’re cute.”

“Look—I came over to apologise. If you’re going to take the piss.” I tried to keep my voice down—I didn’t need Sarah on my case again.

“I meant it as a compliment. Julie didn’t warn me she had such a gorgeous flat mate. If she had, I’d have been over more often.”

I'd no idea what to make of him. Was this his idea of a pick-up line or was it just a massive wind up? I wasn't accustomed to compliments.

“I didn’t come here for the coffee. I came to see you. Julie told me you worked here.”

“Well, now you’ve seen me.”

“You’re not going to make this easy are you?”

“What?”

“I'm trying to ask you out.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t know how. Guys as good-looking as JJ didn’t ask me out—they didn’t even notice me.

“Well?” he said.

“What?”

“Will you go out with me?”

“No.”

“Why not? I fancy you; you obviously fancy me.”

I did and I hated myself for it. I wanted to hate the arrogant prick.

“No, I don't. God, you're full of yourself aren't you?”

“Do we really have to play these silly games? Why don't you just say 'yes'?”

“No.”

I didn’t give him the chance to say anything else. I turned and walked away.

“Why are you hiding in here?” Sarah asked.

“Has he gone?”

“The guy you said was a prick? He left a few minutes ago.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. What’s wrong with him anyway? He’s good-looking. I wouldn’t throw him out of bed.”

Chapter 3

“Tonight? Again? You don't see him for two years, and then you see him twice in a week?”

“Yeah. He’s taking me to the theatre,” Julie said.

“You? Go to the theatre? What’s he taking you to see? A pantomime?”

“Cheeky mare.” Julie pretended to be offended.

I couldn't help but wonder why JJ would come around again so soon. I hadn't told Julie that he'd come on to me. I wasn't even sure he had. Maybe he flirted like that with every girl he met.

“How come he’s suddenly around here so often? No offence, but hasn’t he got a girlfriend he could be with?”

“I don't think he's seeing anyone at the moment. It's hard to know with JJ—he doesn't do 'serious'.”

Why didn't that surprise me?

When he arrived, I pretended to be reading a magazine. Julie was in her bedroom getting ready. I could feel his eyes burning into me, but I was determined not to look up.

“I’ve got a spare ticket if you want to join us.”

“Theatre’s not really my thing.” I still didn’t look up from the magazine; I was playing it cool, or so I thought.

“It's upside down.”

“What?”

“Your magazine is upside down.”

Oh god. I'm such a... Wait a minute.

“No, it's not.”

“You weren't sure were you?”

Could he be any more infuriating?

“So, what is your type of thing?” he asked as he parked his backside on the arm of my chair. His finger brushed against my bare arm. I wasn't sure if it was intentional, but it sent a tiny shudder through my whole body.

“Football,” I lied. The article on the page in front of me was about some footballer who had just got engaged to a beautiful young model. I doubted she would have given him a second look if he hadn't been earning over 100k a week.

“Really?” He did the little snort thing again. “I wouldn’t have had you down as a football fan. Which team do you support?”

Julie walked into the living room, and gave me a puzzled look. She knew I had slightly less than zero interest in football.

“Arsenal.” They were one of only two teams I’d heard of.

“A Gunner eh?”

Why had I said I was interested in football when I knew nothing about it? What the hell was a Gunner?

“Come on JJ. We’re going to be late.” Julie came to my rescue.

“Are you sure you won’t come with us?” He touched my bare arm again—this time I was certain it was deliberate.

“No thanks.” I moved my arm away.

“See you later, Megs,” Julie shouted.

“Bye, Megan,“ JJ said. “I'll see if I can organise tickets for the next game at the Emirates.”

At least he'd used my proper name. What was the Emirates anyway?

I'd just run a bath, and was about to treat myself to a long hot soak, and a packet of chocolate digestives when my phone rang. 

“Megan?”

“Billy? What’s up?”

Billy is my brother; he’s two years older than me, although you would never think it. One of the reasons I got a place of my own was because I was sick of running around after him and my mum. I was doing all the cooking, cleaning and washing. Billy never used to raise a finger, and my mum...? Mum’s had her problems—drink problems. It started when my dad walked out on us. I was only twelve at the time. He left us for another woman, according to Mum. I hadn’t seen him since. He did telephone at Christmas for a couple of years, but then he stopped.

“It’s Mum.” Billy sounded out of breath.

“What about her?”

“The usual.”

“What do you expect me to do?”

“She’ll listen to you, Megan. She takes no notice of me.”

“I was just going to have a bath.”

“Please, Megan. Come around and talk to her.”

“Shit. Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” An already crap day had just got worse.

********************

“You took your time.” Billy greeted me at the door. He had always been an ungrateful pig.

“I had to wait for the bus.”

“You should've taken a taxi.”

“How am I meant to afford taxis? Where's Mum?”

“In the lounge.”

The hall carpet looked as though it hadn’t been vacuumed in a month. I could smell the alcohol as soon as I walked through to the lounge. Mum was flat out in her favourite armchair.

“Mum! Wake up!”

“Megan,” she slurred. “What are you doing here?” She managed to open one eye.

“Mum, you need to wake up.”

“I'm awake.” Both of her eyes were open now. “What’s up?”

“You know what’s up. Why have you been drinking?”

“I ain’t.”

“I can smell it.”

“I ain’t been drinking,” she shouted. “I’ve got a cold that’s all. It’s my medicine you can smell.”

“Whisky flavour is it?”

Between the two of us, me and Billy managed to get Mum upstairs and onto the bed. Billy left me to get her undressed and into her nightie.

“Where did she get the drink?”

Billy shrugged.

“She didn’t get as drunk as that in five minutes; you must have seen her.”

“I’ve been out. She was like that when I got back.”

“I really thought she was going to make it this time,” I said.

“The only time she’ll give it up is when she's six feet under.”

“If she carries on like this, that won’t be too long.”

********************

Four hours later than I'd planned, I was just about to climb into a hot, bubble bath when I remembered the chocolate digestives. Damnity damn. A bath isn’t a bath without a chocolate digestive or ten. Or is that just me? I wrapped myself in a towel, and walked over to the kitchen. I always kept my chocolate digestives in the top cupboard. Julie knew better than to raid them, but just to be safe I always put them on the top shelf. Julie was a bit of a short arse; she couldn’t reach them there. 

Shit! I was just about to walk out of the kitchen when I heard their voices. Julie and JJ were back from the theatre. I'd been sure they would go for a drink or a meal after the show. I wasn’t about to walk through the lounge wearing only a towel—not while JJ was there. I hoped he was just dropping Julie off, and would be gone in a few minutes.

The kitchen door opened.

“Megan? A little overdressed aren’t we?” JJ had a huge smirk on his face. I could feel the heat of his gaze as he quickly looked me up and down. I knew I was blushing, but I tried to brazen it out.

“I was taking a bath.”

“I didn’t realise you kept the bath in the kitchen.” He laughed at his own joke. “How very novel.”

“I was fetching the biscuits.” I hitched up the towel which was in danger of sliding off my breasts.

“Eating biscuits in the bath? Classy.”

I edged back when he began to walk towards me.

“I like the look of those.” He was staring straight at my cleavage. “Do you mind if I have one?”

Before I could speak, he had taken a biscuit from the packet I was holding in front of me. His hand was only inches from my breasts. My heart was thumping so hard I felt sure he must be able to hear it.

“What’s going on in here?” Julie appeared in the doorway. “Megs, what...?”

“She’s taking a bath in the kitchen, of course.” JJ laughed.

I’d had enough, so I pushed past them both. I could still hear them laughing as I closed the bathroom door.

As I was soaking in the bath, chocolate digestive in hand, my mind insisted on conjuring up images of JJ. His hand had been so close to my breasts; I'd almost felt his touch. Damn my imagination—what was it trying to do to me? So what if he was hot? The guy was a tool of the first order.