Not That Easy (23 page)

“Yeah, I would have, because what you did was just cheap and shitty. I thought you were better than that but you're not.”

I didn't know whether to scream or cry. I chose the former.

“You complete asshole! You can't just call me a slut for sleeping with someone BEFORE you properly asked me out. You can't backdate the start of a relationship, Nick. And who I chose to sleep with before we were official is totally my business. You have
no
right to judge me for it.”

“Yeah? Then why are we even together?”

“God knows. You're the one who suggested it.”

“Well, maybe that was my mistake,” he said, walking away.

“Nick? What are you doing? We have the rest of the weekend here—how am I going to get home?”

“Should have thought of that before you acted like such a slut.” I stared at him in shock. “You can get your stuff from the cottage—the key's under the doormat—and make your own way back.”

He walked off leaving me standing in the middle of an empty, muddy field. He was actually going. I would have to go home alone.

What would Holly say? His parents? How the fuck was I going to get home? And he thought I was a slut?

I felt my knees shake and I dropped down to the ground. I started to cry. My dream weekend had turned into a relationship mini-break and finally morphed into hell, in less than twenty-four hours. What the fuck was I going to do?

There was a rustling behind me. Nick had come back. He'd forgiven me and it was all going to be okay. Thank God. I turned around.

A massive woolly mammoth with two horns was staring at me.

I screamed.

“Moooo.”

Wait. Did mammoths make that noise? It kind of sounded like a cow. I squinted at it and realized that, without all the fur, it was kind of cow-like. It didn't have any black or white patches but those were definitely udders.

I stared dubiously at the woolly cow before breaking down into tears again. My boyfriend thought I was a slut. He'd abandoned me in a garlic field and the only company I had was a furry mammal with nipples.

I walked into my room and threw my Gap tote onto the floor. I was absolutely exhausted. It had taken four hours, one tractor, one ferry, one wrong train and then the Tube and a bus to get home. My feet were sweating in my wellies, my face was swollen from crying and I had dark red indents on my shoulders from my bag's strap.

If I had more energy, I'd be crying. Because Nick thought I was a slut. In the mean sense of the word. And maybe he had a point.

Emma and Will weren't speaking to me, Lara was obviously disappointed in me and my mum was appalled by my antics being plastered all over the Internet. My first ever relationship had lasted twenty-four hours and now he thought I was an evil whore. This whole slutty phase had just started out as a bit of fun and a way to finally catch up with everyone and have loads of orgasms, but it had ended up becoming a full-blown disaster—without any orgasms.

I pulled off my wellies, waterproof jacket, fleece, jeans and try-hard lace knickers. I just didn't understand how it had all gone so wrong.
Everyone my age had casual sex and it was fine. But I had to go and do it with someone who wanted to be my boyfriend, and then someone else's boyfriend.

The only consolation was that Yomi hadn't found out. I couldn't deal with that. Watching Emma find out about Sergio was my most traumatic life experience to date and it wasn't even really my life experience. I felt tears pricking my eyes again. I'd broken a relationship, and gone against my moral code, just for . . . what? Ollie's horny face popped into my head and I felt sick. I'd had sex with him just because he'd flattered me so much by making it seem like I was this stunning girl he'd wanted for ages.

When really, he just wanted a quick shag and hadn't cared about me at all. Unlike Nick. Who had liked me all along, but I'd just been too dense to notice. Ugh, why hadn't he just told me?! I hadn't even known I was cheating on him. If he'd just made it clearer that he was serious about me then maybe this never would have happened. From the start, he'd made it seem like we were just fuck buddies. Hell, the night we first shagged, he'd been staring at his ex-girlfriend. He only got with me to make her jealous. I'd thought we were just using each other for sex.

I climbed into my bed and lay facedown on the pillow. I felt officially shit. It was like there was this unspoken code to being slutty and no one had bothered to fill me in. How was I meant to know what was too far? I thought the general rule was just to follow your instincts and do whatever felt right, but that hadn't exactly worked.

I just didn't understand what was and wasn't okay. Cheating was bad, obviously. But what if you didn't
know
you were cheating because your boyfriend hadn't bothered to tell you that you were in a relationship?! Forget not knowing whether that was bad or not—I didn't even know if it constituted cheating.

I reached for my phone. It had no messages, no notifications
and not even an app update. My own phone didn't even need me. I chucked it back onto the bed and sighed. Everything in my four major life fields was totally fucked.

1)
Work. I didn't have a salary and my boss was exploiting me.

2)
Friends. Barely speaking to me and seriously disappointed in me.

3)
Love. Nonexistent. Twenty-four hour boyfriend called me a slut.

4)
Family. My mum was close to disowning me because of my sex column.

I closed my eyes. I wanted to sob hysterically and get all the stress out of me, but I was just too numb. This wasn't like my other big dramas where I was humiliated/rejected/abandoned and could wail over wine—this felt so much bigger. It wasn't just one isolated incident that was the issue here; it was my whole life. It was my decisions, my lack of moral code and my selfishness. It was no wonder I was left here alone in my room.

I pulled on my dressing gown and walked downstairs to the kitchen in search of comfort. Naturally, my shelves and quarter of the fridge were empty, but there was a tub of fresh ricotta on Will's shelf. It wasn't exactly the chocolate soufflé I was craving but it would have to do. I grabbed a spoon, shoved some jam into it as a last-minute addition and trudged upstairs. This was my life now: stolen ricotta and solitary Saturday nights.

•   •   •

“Ellie?”

I opened my eyes and saw two big green eyes staring at me.

“Nick?” I cried.

“Um, excuse me?”

I rubbed my eyes. Emma was leaning over me with her eyebrows raised.

“Sorry, sorry, I was half asleep.” I sat up, yawning, wondering why my eyes felt so sore. Then I remembered I'd fallen asleep crying into the ricotta. All the feelings of hopelessness came back until I realized that Emma, one of my friends, thus one quarter of my life components, was talking to me. I bolted upright. I had to try to win her round with my charm and wit.

“So, um, how are you?” I asked.

“Hanging,” she said. “I went out with Meely last night. I only came in here because I heard noises and I knew you were away, so I just wanted to check there wasn't, like, a burglar or something.”

“Oh,” I said, my spirits sinking again. I should have known she wasn't coming in to say things were fine again.

“So now I know it's you, I'd better get back on the Internet and post some more ads about Ollie's spare room.”

She got up to leave but I pulled the sleeve of her hoodie desperately. “Em, I'm sorry. I really am. Don't worry about trying to find someone to fill the room—I promise I'll do it. And, if I don't, I'll pay the rent.”

“You mean your poor mum will pay the rent,” she said, rubbing her arm.

I forced myself not to pull the duvet back over my head. “You're right,” I said finally. “But I will get paid soon at work and I'll start paying my mum back. I swear. I know it's gone on long enough.”

“I was just saying,” said Emma. “It's fine; it's your life. You can do what you want.”

“Please stop being weird,” I wailed, giving up on my calm and responsible vibes. “I'm sorry for being so shit. I didn't mean for
everything to become this total mess. I really, really didn't. I promise I'll fix it.”

Emma sighed. “El, I'm not mad at you. I'm just not over everything. I just need some time and I'm sure we'll go back to normal.”

“Time? But what if you never do? What if I've fucked up our friendship for life?”

“Good to see you're as dramatic as ever.”

“But I'm serious, Emma. You and Lara are the only good things in my life and I'm done prioritizing boys and sex over you. I know I have been doing that and I'm done with it, I swear.”

“Babe,” she said, in a tone more like her normal one. “You know I'm never going to stand in the way of a good shag. I just feel weird since Serge and you've been acting weird and it feels like everything's, well, fucking weird right now.”

“I know. I never thought I'd say this but I kind of miss my virgin days where the only problem was no one wanting to go near my vagina. Now it feels like there's too many people down there.”

Emma laughed. “You do realize you've still only slept with three people, El? That's like ten times less than I have.”

I grinned. “I know. It's so weird—I feel like I've had the sluttiest few months imaginable, but, in the real world, it's probably what most people did before they'd even finished college.”

“Yeah, but it has been in quite a short space of time. And it's been messy.” She sat down on my bed and bit her bottom lip. “I am sorry things have been so crazy for you, babe. I didn't mean to be pissed off with you for going away with Nick either, I just felt like you were bailing on me. When I needed you. You know?”

“Completely,” I agreed, nodding my head. “I've been a total bitch. But karma has had its way, and things with Nick are over now. So when I say it won't happen again, it, like, really won't.”

“What? What happened? Is that why you're back early? I had a feeling something was wrong.”

“No, Emma,” I said, raising my left hand. “I'm not going to talk about it because then I'll make it all about me like I always do, and I'm done being selfish.”

“Oh shut up, Ellie, and tell me the goss,” she cried.

“Even if it's depressing and it will make you hate me more than you already do?”

She rolled her eyes. “I don't hate you; I just miss you. So stop being this girl I don't know who holds things back and
spill
already.”

“Okay fine, but you asked for it. So . . . it turns out Nick didn't think we were fuck buddies. He thought we were a couple. He introduced me as his girlfriend.”

“I knew it,” gasped Emma. “This is so great—why aren't you pleased? You've wanted a boyfriend your entire life and you've finally got one. How is that a bad thing?” Then her face went pale. “Oh shit, don't tell me you told him about Ollie?”

“I felt guilty—I had to! Besides, surely that's the right thing to do? Honesty and all that?”

She put her head into her hands. “Have you learned nothing from me, Ellie? You don't tell them the stuff they'll never find out—you just don't.”

“Well, I kind of did . . . And he went crazy and called me a slut and left me in a garlic farm.”

She moved her hands away from her eyes. “Why were you in a garlic farm?”

“Don't ask.”

“How did you get home?”

“A tractor, a ferry, a train, a Tube and a bus.”

“Oh my God, that sounds so intense. Are you okay?”

“Um, shouldn't you be more concerned about the fact that Nick called me a slut and broke up with me just after I realized we were in a relationship?”

“Obvs I want to know about that. I just can't believe you had to get in a tractor.”

“Again, not the bit to focus on here.”

“Okay, sorry, I just really can't imagine it. But, wow, so Nick thought you were a proper couple. What was it like before the slut drama happened?”

“Amazing,” I said. “Well, actually . . . I don't know. Come to think of it, it might actually have been a bit shit. We were getting drunk with his family for most of the time, and then we had this majorly awkward brunch where I was sweating nonstop, and then the garlic farm happened.”

“No, but, what about the feelings? Wasn't it exciting to be able to say ‘this is my boyfriend' and all that?”

I sighed. “Honestly? I don't know. It took me ages to have it sink in and it still felt weird. I know it sounds really ungrateful, but I'm not actually sure I was that thrilled. I feel like it happened too soon, you know?”

“Yeah, but who cares? Bar the slut thing—which he totally said in anger and will get over once you apologize—he's great, isn't he?”

“Yes, I mean he's smart, attractive and lovely. But Em, I don't even know how much we have in common. I don't even know how sad I am. Like, okay, I cried all of yesterday evening. But is it just the rejection? Or do I really miss him for him?”

“I don't know, babe. But from the sounds of it, you get on really well. Like, you never had any awkward silences on your dates, did you? And I thought you said he's really funny.”

“He is. And I do love the fact that we get to have sex whenever I see him.”

“Ooh, have you orgasmed with him yet?”

“Nooo.”

“Meh, it will come in time. Honestly, Ellie? I have no idea what
you're doing here in Haggerston. You should be in the Isle of Wight right now begging him to take you back.”

“I'm not going to beg! He was such a dick to me and how was I meant to know we were in a relationship anyway?”

“Look, you know I'm normally the first one to say you should stand up for yourself and not be the needy girl, but you are kind of, technically, in the wrong here.”

“His parents probably know I'm a slut by now and his brother's girlfriend is a vaper and she hates me and I don't care about the All Blacks and I never ever will,” I blurted out.

“I, like, have no idea what you just said.”

I groaned. “It's just that I find the idea of an actual, full-blown relationship kind of terrifying. What if we don't have enough in common? What if he makes me watch rugby and fetch him beers, and sit in a room with the girls while he does laddy things? That is not what I want from my future, Emma. I don't want to sacrifice my independence for a relationship.”

“Um, babe? No one said it had to be like that. Serge never made me do any of that.”

“He's European.”

“So?”

“It's different.”

“Ellie. It sounds like you've just got classic commitment issues.”

“Isn't that what men are meant to have, not women?”

“Uh, yeah, in romcoms. Nowadays it's men who are needy, haven't you noticed? It's always the guys trying to be all relationshippy, just like Nick was to you, and we're unbothered 'cos we're young and hot and know we can have everyone. Especially with stuff like Tinder. There's always someone within a five-mile radius so you never have to be needy again. You know?”

“Yes, I do know. Hence I don't want to be in a serious relationship
or I'll never get to go on an online date again and my slutty phase will be actually over. Although, after the stuff Nick said to me about being slutty, maybe that's a good thing.”

“Oh my God,” said Emma. “We had a pact about the slut thing, remember? You can't reappropriate a word's meaning if you keep switching back to the old meaning.”

“Is this not a special exception? I just got dumped by someone who used the word ‘slut' because he wanted to convey just how, like, loose I am. And don't give me that look—my mum uses the word ‘loose.' I picked it up from her.”

“Wasn't saying anything, babe,” she said, spreading out her hands. “Look, I get that it sucked he said that, but it only hurts because you're letting it. You could just imagine he was trying to say: ‘You're someone who has a lot of sex, and your most recent shag was morally dubious, not to mention ill timed.' Does that hurt as much?”