Authors: Portia MacIntosh
I glance around the club for him but he’s nowhere to be seen, so I ask the barman who was serving us earlier.
‘The guy I came in with…’ I start.
‘Left about ten minutes ago with a gaggle of girls,’ he replies.
‘Oh, OK, thanks.’
That pang of jealously slaps me across the face again. Would Danny really go off with a group of girls? Then again, would
I
really go off with a random guy? Stranger things have happened.
I decide to head up to our room, to see if he’s there. He isn’t and I don’t know why I’m surprised. He’s Danny, and all the ladies love Danny. Messy-haired, dimple-faced, geek-chic Danny.
I slip off my dress, wind my hair up into a bun on top of my head and take off my make-up. For a second, I examine my body in the mirror. My feet are aching from wearing such high heels, my body is covered in red marks from wearing tight underwear and tight clothing and my head is a little itchy, probably from the dye earlier. Why do we women do this to ourselves? Danny almost exclusively dresses for comfort, and still manages to look stylish, but for girls, beauty really is pain.
I slip on the T-shirt Danny gave me when I stayed at his house, because I’ve been sleeping in it, because it’s comfortable and, if truth be told, I like the way it smells. I grab my phone, find Danny in my phone book and hover my thumb over his name, wondering whether or not I should call him. I want him to come back to me, so I can tell him my funny story and we can cuddle up like we always do. Thinking of him out somewhere having fun with girls – multiple people who will undoubtedly be charmed by him, that he could potentially get off with, and all of them not me. Shit. I don’t like these odds, but worst of all, I don’t like this feeling. This dizzying, sick-to-my-stomach, punch-to-the-gut feeling, except this time I can’t blame it on food poisoning. I’ve done what I never wanted to do – what I never thought I’d do in a million years – I’ve fallen for Danny.
I tap my phone to call him, only to hear his phone vibrating on the bedside table at his side of the bed. Brilliant. So not only is he out having fun, but he’s also going to know I was just sitting here, pining for him. I can’t have that. I grab Danny’s phone to try and delete the missed call, but he has a passcode on so I can’t – crap. Before I have a chance to wonder if I can get around this, Danny’s notifications catch my eye and there’s a text from his mum. I can only see the snippet of the conversation, but her reply says: ‘It sounds like you’ve got it bad for this girl. I’m so happy for you. x’
Are they talking about me? And even if they are, does he mean it, or is this all part of the act? Maybe he’s just hoping she’ll relay this information to his ex…
With all traces of Candy Hart removed, washed off and tied back, I climb into bed, just plain old Candice, alone in the world, life still as messed up as ever.
It happened again. It happened the first few days after I split from Will, but as the focus shifted from my impending spinsterhood to just having fun with Danny it stopped… Well it’s back. I have sweet dreams, but not so vivid I can recall them in the morning, and I wake up feeling great, but only for a second, only until reality hits and it causes my body to jolt like I’m waking up from a nightmare – except I’m not waking from a nightmare, I waking up in a living nightmare.
‘Sorry, did I make you jump?’ Danny says, rubbing my shoulder gently. I roll onto my back and see that he’s climbed in bed next to me. It’s the middle of the night. I lift my weary head to make myself more comfortable so Danny places an arm behind me, pulling me close so my head is resting on his chest. He locks his strong arm around me, not so tightly it’s uncomfortable, but in a way that makes me feel safe.
‘It’s OK,’ I reply, sleepily.
‘So, good night with that bloke?’ he asks.
‘Yeah,’ I lie. ‘Where did you get off to?’
‘This hen party invited me into town, right lively bunch of Irish lasses,’ he explains, and I feel my brow tighten with tension. ‘So we were in this club in town and two of them take me to one side,’ he starts in that familiar storytelling tone he always adopts to tell me one of his famous stories, but his animated manner quickly dissolves. ‘Anyway, I couldn’t do it,’ he tells me honestly. ‘Not
it
, I mean I couldn’t even entertain them. I went for a walk and then I came back here. Didn’t expect to find you here, actually.’
I stroke his chest lightly with my fingertips. ‘I was in Jackson’s room all of five minutes,’ I tell him. ‘I couldn’t go through with
it
either. You were right; I’m just not the kind of girl who can do this like that.’
Well, it’s true that I couldn’t go through with it, and I realised that before any money changed hands. I decide not to tell Danny that Jackson thought I was a prostitute, because I don’t want him to think I was going to go through with it, when I
really
wasn’t.
With his free hand, Danny swipes a piece of hair from my face that must have fallen loose while I was sleeping.
‘How is it you look so beautiful when you’ve just woken up?’ he asks.
I slap his chest playfully, a little harder than I intended to but I’m still half asleep, in my defence.
‘You’re such a piss-taker,’ I tell him.
‘I am, but I mean it,’ he insists. ‘Most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. Why do you think I asked you out the second I saw you?’
‘Because you’re a cocky twat?’ I reply.
‘Well, that’s probably what gave me the confidence.’ He laughs. ‘But, no, it’s because despite your granny outfit and the grumpy look you had plastered across your face, something just shone through. Something that I liked. And just so you know, you didn’t need this makeover to look good, but I thought it might make you more confident. Right now, half asleep, with your hair in a bun, no make-up on your face apart from that smudge of eyeliner that you missed when you washed your face, in that T-shirt that I got at a convention where I was easily the coolest person there, and that’s saying something…you’re flawless.’
I open my eyes again and tip my head back to look up at Danny, suddenly feeling very awake.
‘It wasn’t that I didn’t like you,’ I tell him. ‘It’s never been that I didn’t like you – despite your moments of arrogance, your overly easy-going attitude and that stupid topknot that I want to chop off with scissors every time I look at it,’ I tease, mirroring his criticism. ‘It was just…Will stuff. For an entire year every aspect of my life has been dictated by Will stuff. You know, when I left Jackson I came looking for you, I wanted to tell you how happy you’re making me.’
‘You make me happy too,’ he tells me.
Danny reaches forward and gently takes my chin between his thumb and his index finger. He tips my head back a little before leaning in and kissing me. It isn’t the frantic kiss I shared with Jackson, but it’s just as passionate – if not more so. It’s the kind of kiss that feels so good, I know that I’ll wake up and wonder if I dreamt it or not.
Something kicks in, some kind of autopilot that makes me act without really thinking, and I pull myself up, climbing on top of Danny, whipping off my T-shirt before leaning forward to continue our kiss. Danny runs his hands down my sides, resting them gently on my hips. When I kissed Jackson I felt like I was misbehaving, like I was breaking all the rules and acting out of character, but this just feels right. I don’t feel like I’m trying to be sexy or bold, I’m just enjoying the moment and that’s all that matters sometimes.
I wake up slowly as the smell of toast fills my nostrils, hunger striking me the second it registers.
‘Morning, bro,’ Danny says brightly. As nicknames and terms of endearment go, I should take issue with this one more than any of the others, but this one feels special, personal…ours. ‘Sleep well?’
‘Like a baby,’ I reply, stretching out, unfazed by the fact I’m completely naked.
‘Funny, I didn’t hear you wake up to cry every hour,’ he jokes and I laugh sarcastically. ‘Breakfast in bed is served.’
Danny places a plate of toast in front of me before hopping in bed next to me with his own plate. He clicks the TV on and starts eating.
‘Don’t worry about the calories; you burned plenty last night,’ he jokes. ‘So when you key what you’re eating into your weird little app, factor that in.’
I laugh. Actually, I haven’t keyed anything I’ve eaten into my app in days. It just didn’t seem important now I’m not trying to be what Will wants me to be.
I swallow my first mouthful.
‘This is lovely, thank you,’ I say, sipping the cup of tea that I’ve just noticed sitting next to me.
‘You’re welcome,’ he replies. ‘I wanted to get up before you and go out and get bread so I could surprise you. I even bought jam.’
‘I noticed.’
‘Well, I didn’t buy it, technically I stole it from someone’s room service tray on my way back to the room, but it’s the thought that counts, right?’
‘Right.’ I laugh.
We finish our breakfast as we watch TV. Checkout is in an hour, but neither of us is rushing. Today we’re headed for London for our last night before it’s back home and back to reality.
‘Last night happened, right?’ he asks, his eyes fixed on the TV.
‘It did,’ I reply.
‘Always knew there was a nymph inside you, just dying to get out,’ he teases. ‘So, what now?’
‘Now, nothing,’ I reply. ‘Don’t worry about it. It was good, but I get it.’
‘OK,’ he replies with a smile. ‘Let’s just have fun today and figure things out as we go along.’
‘Sure,’ I reply.
‘I picked out your outfit for today,’ he tells me, nodding towards a pair of denim cut-offs and a top hanging up on the wardrobe.
‘I’m not sure having a man pick out my outfits is wise,’ I tell him, last night with Jackson still playing on my mind just a little. ‘I don’t want to attract the wrong kind of attention.’
‘All that matters is that you dress for you,’ he tells me. ‘Any lad who was raised right won’t give you the wrong kind of attention and any that do, you don’t want anything to do with those guys.’
‘You’re right,’ I reply, climbing out of bed, grabbing my outfit and taking it into the bathroom with me. My bun must have fallen out over the course of the night, and I look in the mirror and observe that my hair looks awful, but I don’t care. It’s ‘bed hair’, and that’s a look, right? Mine is just very legitimate bed hair. There’s no time for a shower now. I’ll just have to wait until I get to London to smarten myself up. I hop into my outfit and admire myself in the mirror. My messy hair seems to work with my shorts and my off-the-shoulder top, so at least people might think I’ve done this on purpose. I put on some make-up – more than I used to, because I liked the way it looked last night, although I’m not sure I apply it as well as the girl at the salon did.
Still, when I walk back into the bedroom, Danny takes a break from blindly flinging things into our suitcases to wolf whistle.
‘Look at you,’ he says, pulling me close.
‘I look rough,’ I tell him.
‘You look perfect.’
‘I think I’m a few plastic surgery procedures off perfect, but thank you.’ I laugh.
Danny moves his face towards mine, but I wiggle free from his grasp.
‘No, no. We need to get a move on.’ I laugh. ‘If we miss checkout, they’ll bill Will for another night.’
‘Stop trying so hard for people who don’t give a fuck about you,’ he tells me. ‘Let him get fined. Let’s be honest, bloke’s got a shitload of bad karma heading his way – what’s paying out a 150-pound fine, or whatever?’
I shoot Danny a look.
‘OK, fine, fine.’ He laughs. ‘To the Bug-mobile!’
As we head for the door with our bags, and only minutes to spare, Danny notices that he’s forgotten to pack the toaster.
‘Just leave it,’ I insist, safe in the knowledge it was cheap, and that we probably won’t
need
it.
‘What?’ he asks, shocked. ‘Where’s your sentimental value? That’s not just any toaster, it’s
our
toaster. It’s the one that got you through food poisoning, the one we used to celebrate easing the sexual tension we’d spent weeks building up. This toaster is special.’
I laugh. ‘OK, fine, just…where are we going to put it? My new clothes are taking up all the spare room we had.’
‘I’ll just carry it,’ he insists.
‘Danny, you can’t just carry a toaster.’
‘Why not?’
‘What will people think?’
‘Who cares what people think?’ he laughs, picking it up. ‘Come on.’
As I follow Danny through the hotel with his toaster under his arm, I am in awe of just how few fucks he gives, and it occurs to me that maybe that’s why he’s such a happy person. Perhaps happiness is synonymous with not worrying about what people think of you, because you’re free to do whatever brings you joy without the burden of how being judged will make you feel.
‘Good morning,’ he says to an elderly lady who is staring at him with her mouth open. ‘Toast?’
‘Oi, keep walking,’ I tick him off, suppressing my laughter.
We load our stuff into the car before getting in ourselves, Danny slapping me on the arse as I climb over the driver’s seat first.
‘We’ve clocked some miles this week,’ Danny says. ‘It’s funny, I never would have thought it possible to cover so much ground and fit everything in, but thanks to Will’s anal itinerary, it’s all gone according to plan.’
‘Planning, lying, being a wanker – he’s a man of many talents,’ I say bitchily.
Danny sucks air through his teeth playfully. ‘I’m still not bored of hearing you swear.’ He laughs. ‘Anyway, my phone says we’ll be there in a couple of hours.’ Danny places it on the dash-mount. ‘Kensington,’ he observes. ‘Old Will was pushing the boat out, huh?’
‘I guess he was,’ I reply.
‘Right, well, to London,’ he bellows. ‘And today’s musical accompaniment: the soundtrack from
The Good, The Bad and The Ugly
.’
‘Nerd,’ I say to myself. ‘Such a huge, huge nerd.’
‘Hey, there are two kinds of people in the world,’ he starts, adopting what I imagine is a cowboy voice. ‘Those who think
The Good, The Bad and The Ugly
is the greatest film ever made, and those who are wrong.’