The Art of Letting Go (The Uni Files) (9 page)

“So you were not hiding in your room because of the library the other day?” he asks, relief softening his tone.

“No.”

Well, I was, initially, but not now. So I kept that bit of information to myself.

His arms slide down to grab me in a hug. “Jesus, Lilah! Don’t do that again.”

I don’t know what he is so agitated about, but I lean into the hug and squeeze my arms around his waist.

Then I remember the hair.

“Oh my hair!” I wail, and then start to whimper.

Bacon Butties

Ben makes the best bacon rolls ever, crispy bacon squidged between soft floury bread, bacon buttie heaven! That’s one of the reasons I love him.

What? I did not just think that, did I? Surely not! That would be crazy.

Maybe I am just really hungry and delirious from lack of food and water.

More like lack of wine and fags.

I reckon I have dropped at least half a stone in the last two days. I have eaten three rounds of sandwiches, heated to crispy perfection by an even hotter chef, I should add.

Hair Wax

Meredith took her personal taxi, otherwise known as a red double-decker and sped back into Putney to buy emergency hair wax. Ben didn’t leave me alone whilst she was gone. I think he was scared I would lock the door to my room again.

He spent the time filling me in on my day of missed lectures and trying very hard not to stare at my hair.

Meredith returned with the hair wax and three bottles of wine. Obviously, the haircut forced her hand on the bottle count and she decided we needed one each. Half an hour later, she has tamed the crazy fuzz cut into something that actually looks rather sexy, and I am standing admiring myself in the mirror.

“It makes your neck look very kissable,” says Ben, coming up behind me and planting one on the exposed flesh to demonstrate his point.

Meredith has already finished her bottle of wine.

“Shmakes yours eyes big,” she slurs.

“Thanks, guys,” I say and completely mean it.

Ben is giving me a look that I could read a million different ways. He nods towards the door, and I follow him out. In the hallway, he grabs me and pushes me back against the wall, his lips on mine, his hands running free over my body.

I giggle a lot, and the haircut is forgotten. Library with Barbie is forgotten. What Library? What Barbie?

12th October

I need to ring John.

I must do it over the weekend.

Ben’s favourite colour is green.

Ben first played guitar when he was seven.

Ben can also play the piano, but prefers the guitar.

15th October

I must ring John.

I will do it by the end of the week.

Ben broke his arm when he was ten after falling out what he thought was a tree, but turned out to be an overgrown shrub unable to hold his weight.

Ben has known the drummer from his band since they were four years old. Dave once dated his sister, but it ended badly.

Ben wore braces for five years to get his sparkling smile.

19th October

I have not rung John.

I feel terrible about it, but the longer I leave it, the more I just don’t know what to say. I keep sending random text messages to him, to which I always get reassuringly supportive and loving messages in response.

God damn it! Why can’t he just dump me for being a shit girlfriend instead of being so bloody understanding all the time?

Tonight Ben and I are going our separate ways. Meredith, Jane, and I are going for a girls’ night. Ben is going off to do stuff with the band. There have been rumours that they might get some festival gigs over next summer, so they are meeting to discuss ideas and plans.

Ben popped in to see me as I got ready. He looked outrageously hot in a pale blue shirt that matched his eyes but made his dark hair stand out in contrast. I could have changed my mind about the girls’ night, but I didn’t. I just gave him a grin, and he flashed me his wicked smirk and a suggestive wink as he said goodbye.

20th October

My head. Again.

Seriously, you would think I would learn.

Last night was completely bizarre, this is how it happened.

We decide to have a pub-crawl down the High Street. This is not a great idea as Jayne is renowned for getting completely paralytic. Meredith is not much better. Obviously, I am the mature one who can handle my booze.

So anyway, there we are on our girl’s only pub-crawl, which is a lot of fun. We are having one glass of wine only in each establishment. Halfway down High Street, who should we bump into? Oh, yes, that’s right, my complete arse of a brother and one of his dubious connections who has tried it on with me numerous times over the years and has never gotten anywhere.

I become highly suspicious of Meredith who is acting her surprise at seeing Tristan completely over the top.

Creepy man-friend Eric, who is greasy and potbellied, automatically starts trying to put his arm over my shoulder. I duck away and manage to put Jayne in-between us. This works out well. She seems quite keen on his advances despite the fact that he has just tried them on me. She has had four full glasses of wine by this point, so perhaps her vision is slightly impaired.

Onto the next bar, all in good spirits, we consume a lot of spirits as well. Someone suggests a juvenile game of Truth or Dare where the dare is a shot of something terrible. Needless to say, I have my fair share of shots. It’s not as if I can be honest about anything in the present company.

I receive a text from Ben:

Hope you
’
re having a gr8 time xx

Then, another text from Ben:

Can
’
t concentrate on band talk
.
I keep thinking of that cab after Fez.

And another text from Ben:

Now I am thinking about our date, everyone pissed off I am not concentrating.

This makes me grin like an idiot.

Bar Five

The grin is wiped off my face. John is here, and I have a terrible feeling of being completely set up. He gushes and slobbers all over me as he comes over to see me for the first time in over a month. I have to try really hard not to gag as he kisses me hello full on the mouth.

“There’s my girl. Shnice hair,” he slurs, raising a hand to slide through the offending cut.

I think he may have been at the bar for a while. “Hey, John, it’s good to see you,” I lie, shamefaced.

Tristan gives me a wink, which I don’t understand, and Meredith looks between John and I like she really doesn’t get it.

I know. I don’t either.

So anyway, John joins our little gang along with his two buddies. Our girls’ night is now being completely over run by men. Not that the other two seemed to mind. Jayne ends up doing something disgusting with Eric, and Tristan and Meredith are whispering sweet nothings to each other. I feel a sharp stab of envy as I watch them. They met, they liked each other, and then they get to sit there whispering in each other’s ears, giving each other puppy dog eyes.

Suddenly I feel really lonely. Silly, because I am surrounded by people, but there is only one person that I want to be with, preferably re-enacting the black cab activities. I remove John’s hand from my knee and head to the bar where I proceed to knock back three more vodkas to numb the pain.

I manage another hour. John is really pleased to see me, and it makes me feel terrible.

The guilt I am experiencing is completely out of control. John is gushing about how wonderful I am and how clever and brave I am being by going to Uni. Little does he know that all I have been doing at Uni is stalking the boy that lives in the room next to mine.

So far at Uni I have learnt:

Ben likes Marmite on his toast for breakfast, preferably doorstop, always white.

Ben does not eat baked beans. He thinks it is devil food.

Ben does not like to wear shoes in the house. Taking his shoes off is the first thing he does when he gets home.

Ben’s eyes are the same colour as the sky at midday.

Ben has a middle name beginning with the letter R, but he will not tell me what it is.

Ben has two sisters who still live in Dorset and think he is a twat. I can’t imagine why.

Ben knows the best way to prepare a bacon buttie is to make the bacon extra crispy before putting it on heavily buttered bread with just a smidge of ketchup.

So you can see why, when pressed by John as to the things I have been studying, I don’t have a huge amount to say.

Bar Six

I do not make it to bar six. It is close to midnight and I just want to go home. I duck out of John’s embrace goodbye. He tries to talk me into letting him come back to Uni with me so we can spend quality time together, or, in other words, have sex.

Um, no, thank you. I would rather have my eyeballs stabbed out.

I wave desperately at a black cab. Mumbling something about a headache, I dive into it and relax against the seats as I shut my eyes for the five-minute journey back to Uni. The whole ride I cannot stop thinking about the cab back from the Fez club and the feel of Ben’s hands. Taylor Swift is belting out “Sparks Fly” egging me on, and by the time I make it out of cab, I know exactly what I want to do.

I fall through the front door and then try Ben’s door. It’s unlocked so I just go in.

“Lilah?” He is sitting cross-legged on his bed, guitar across his lap.

In silence, I strip off my clothes to my underwear and climb onto the bed next to him.

He doesn’t say anything, just puts the guitar on the floor and turns towards me, his hands sliding around my waist like they are made to fit there.

9.25 a.m.

So here I am. There is an out of control elephant running through my head, and I have spent the night in my sexy roommate’s bed after ditching my fiancé in the middle of Putney High Street.

Oh, the guilt. It’s quite bad.

I need to get up and get back to my room before he wakes up, I can’t help but turn and look at him before I move. I want to kiss him, but also don’t want to wake him up. I need to get up and out of here before he sees me naked in the cold light of day.

I will just shift the duvet around me so all lumps and bumps are covered then I can sit and stare for a little longer.

Oh shit. I still have last night’s makeup on.

9.32 a.m.

I am still staring at him. It’s kind of hard not to. He is beautiful lying there with his dark lashes resting on his cheeks, hair all over the place and a slight curve on his lips. My cheeks are burning up when I think of last night. 

“Are you staring at me?” His voice has the tone of the cat that got the cream.

“I’m counting your freckles.”

“How many?”

“You made me lose count.” His hand snakes under my duvet barricade and around my waist.

I stiffen automatically.

“Please tell me you are not shy or embarrassed?” He pulls me close, his lips wandering along my throat to my ear and then finally my lips, his blue eyes flashing under dark lashes.

I slide myself over to him and pull him on top. Guess I am not that shy after all.

Taylor Swift is in my head singing a jaunty rendition of “Love Story.” I may be humming along.

21st October

2.00 p.m.

Okay, things are a weird.

I’m feeling a bit awkward. Ben and I appear to be stuck in a weird stalemate where we are no longer just flirty buddies but are not yet boyfriend and girlfriend. Well, we can’t be. I still have another boyfriend.

We hung out most of yesterday in his room, making a little camp and watching telly together. We held hands and exchanged chaste kisses, leaning against each other, but did not repeat the activities of the night before, or the morning, for that matter.

At 11 o’clock, I fell asleep during a movie and then woke up fully dressed in his bed this morning.

Feeling really uncomfortable, I made my excuses of study and laundry, and left his room. He did not say anything to make me stay, just watched me with the blues as I backed out of his room.

Maybe this is just what he does. He must meet lots of girls with the band. Perhaps he just has sex with them and then goes back to being friends.

Not sure how I feel about that. I need to talk to someone.

Where the hell is Meredith when I need her?

The Post-Mortem

4.00 p.m.

We have been discussing ‘The Night from Which There is No Return.’ Meredith thinks I am being over sensitive and that I should cut him some slack, I am the one with a boyfriend after all. Her actual words were far ruder, so I am not going to write them down.

I’m not so sure. I could not get a read on the way he looked at me this morning. He has not knocked for me since.

“Have you knocked for him?”

“Um, no. I was waiting for you to tell me what to do!”