Underneath

I waste the rest of the day sulking and Googling Harry every five minutes like some kind of psychopath. Worst part is I have to work tonight! Me and Mia have a part-time summer job waitressing. Our boss is a private chef who caters for the elite of London. He makes incredible food, we serve it, smile sweetly and do the washing up. So not what I want to do right now!

As I’m getting ready, the doorbell rings. I hear mum squeal with delight and I run out to see a bouquet of flowers from Interflora…for me! “Who’s sending you flowers then?” she smiles, clearly impressed. I snatch the card and head back to my room to read in privacy.

It’s written in neat biro, a woman's handwriting, the florists I guess. He must have ordered over the phone. ‘I’ll get your phone to you soon as I can. x’ I flip the card over expecting more...but thats it? Really? That’s all he says? There’s a kiss but, personally, I’m suspicious. I can imagine the florist adding that herself out of pity!

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Later that evening, we’re in a flash house getting ready to serve cocktails. Mia loads up a tray with glasses. “Only you could feel angry about a guy sending you a bunch of flowers!” she says. “It not that simple!” I bite back. “He’s just using me,” I trail off sadly. “So you didn’t enjoy the sex at all then?” Mia asks sarcastically. “No, yes! I did! but…” I start. “No, yes?” parodies Mia, “you are seriously fucked up girl!” She says, and sashays off with the tray.

I know she's right, but it’s not entirely my fault. I’ve never done this before. I don't know how it all works. I’m guessing you’re not supposed use the ‘L’ word straight away but I can’t take it back now.

The guests are a spoiled bunch. By midnight, we’re both totally fed up. They’re drunk, rowdy and have clearly forgotten we’re even there. The conversation moves to sex. Round the table, quick fire, best sex you’ve ever had?

An attractive woman called Sam screws her face up at her turn. “Oh dear poor little Sam!” pipes up a loud mouthed guy at the head of the table. “She’s still mooning over her boyband bimbo,” he finishes, chucking a serviette at her. “I am not you retard!” she shouts.

“What's this?” asks another woman, interested, “absolutely nothing!” says Sam, trying to shut the conversation down.

“Oh, it was definitely something sweetheart!” says loud mouthed guy. “Do tell!” begs the other woman. Loud mouthed guy tells the story while Sam cringes. Everyone at the table listens avidly…including me.

Sam met (my) Harry at some event and started ‘seeing’ him . Well, hanging out, having awesome sex, just like I’d been doing. She never knew where she stood with him or how he felt about her. Sometimes he was caring and sometimes he was crap. She was crazy about him and tried having the ‘where is this going’ conversation a few times. They were never really going out and it never officially finished. He just gradually evaporated from her life.

Sam shrugs in defeat. "Never heard from him again," she adds sadly. Mia widens her eyes at me, ‘told you so’ style. All I feel is ill. Sick to my stomach.

“You girls though,” say’s anther big mouthed guy called Tim. “You always get it wrong!” “How?” bites back Sam. “You act too keen!…makes me loose my hard on!” he finishes. “Yeah!” chimes in another guy. “The chicks who give me the brush off turn me on the most,” he adds with a grin. Several other guys round the table nod in agreement.

“Hang on,” says Sam, “so you’re telling me that if I’d have ignored him, he would have been more into me?” “Totally,” says Tim definitively. “Have awesome sex with the guy, then ignore him, works every time!”

Sam is clearly blown away by this information, as am I. “But why did he sleep with me at all then if he wasn’t that interested?” Sam asks, looking a little upset. “Hey, he’s a guy at the end of the day, pussy is pussy, we always want to get laid!” Another guy adds “and…if the girls really into you, you can do some seriously dirty stuff.” All the guys laugh, high fives all round…

…back at home I find a courier package left on my bed. Really impressed with mums willpower BTW - she didn't open it!

It’s my phone, nothing else. He must have got someone to get it from his house and courier to me…must have remembered where I live…Anyway, one missed call from him and a text, ‘ring me, don't hate me.’

With the words of those ghastly guys ringing in my ears, I switch off the phone without responding…Maybe I need to try out the theory?

Ⓒ SphinxWriter13 2017

Notes