l o s t [m.h, g.d]

11

                   

I slept for a couple of hours. Matty's phone told me it was still early. Matty was beside me still, his head pressed against my side.

I think I love you.

Impossible. We were under the influence. This was Matty. He had flirted with me sure, but he just wanted to fuck me. Fucked and chucked. That's what he did, right?

Then I remembered something George had said to me that first night, when I'd crawled into his bed.

Matty's going to fall in love with you by the way. Just a pre-warning.

He told me from the very beginning. Matty was going to fall in love with me. I'd advised him against it.

I stood by that advice.

I swept Matty's hair back from his face gently, barely touching him. He didn't need to be so damn honest about it. Or so pretty to look at.

I squeezed my eyes shut, thinking about our behaviour last night. I took a deep breath a quietly as I could and put a hand over my eyes. I'd told myself I would be careful around these two.

I slid off the sofa, careful not to wake Matty, and padded over to George's door. This was wrong too. I couldn't be with Matty all night and then crawl into bed with George to make it all go away.

But I could. I knew I could. They'd let me. And I'd do it.

I lifted the sheet and slid underneath. George stirred, barely even surfacing from sleep. I kissed his face. He muttered something unintelligible, his voice impossibly low.

I ducked under his arm and pulled myself close. He turned his head and buried his nose in my hair. I felt something wet squeeze from the corner of my eye. But no. Definitely not. I wasn't crying. I didn't cry.

~

I slept like a log. When I woke up it was four o'clock in the afternoon. I sat up in George's bed. Fully sober now, reality squeezed itself round me. I stood up and scratched the back of my leg. There were cuts on them. I knew this wasn't going to be good. This was going to be very bad. My head ached. My eye was sore. I pushed my rumpled hair back from my face and opened George's bedroom door.

Matty and George were through there, their backs to one another. Matty was smoking and pretending to watch the muted television. George was doing something in the kitchen, moving things around. Just for something to do with his restless hands, I reckon. The atmosphere was thick and uncomfortable. Neither of them looked at me. I didn't say anything. I tiptoed over to the kitchen counter and pulled myself up onto it, crossing my legs.

'Am I invisible?' I asked. My voice was unstable, hoarse.

'Anything but.' George muttered. He'd come to a standstill, leaning on the sink with his hands.

Matty stood up and silently left, picking up his keys on the way.

He didn't even slam the door. He just left. I winced anyway.

George turned around.

'Did he do that?'

He was eyeing my face. I slipped off the counter and went into the bathroom. Looked at my reflection for the first time in over 24 hours.

I looked awful. My hair was straggly, unwashed. My lips were bitten red and swollen. Kissed. My right eye was shadowed with a bruise, swollen slightly. I had a cut on my cheek bone and my brow bone, one on my lip, scabbed over and painful. Dark circles ringed under my eyes, made worse by left over mascara. I came back out to face George.