Not That Easy (6 page)

I crossed my legs and flicked my mass of hair over my shoulder as I laughed demurely at JT's joke. I was perched on a bar stool in the poshest wine bar—okay only wine bar—I'd ever been to and I was determined to act as elegantly as was required.

“Another glass of Muscadet?” asked JT. I nodded enthusiastically and almost toppled off my stool. “Careful,” he said, as he steadied me with his arm.

The only problem was that it was getting quite difficult to act the height of sophistication when my date was plying me with drinks. Was this glass number . . . four? Five?

I ignored the sensible voice in my head screeching at me to order a tap water, and graciously picked up the wineglass the barman put in front of me.

“Why thank you,” I said.

“Anything for the lady,” said JT. He looked straight into my eyes and I swallowed a laugh.

“I'll just have a tap water as well, please,” I told the barman.

“Water already?” asked JT.

“Oh, just to stop me from getting absolutely pissed and embarrassing myself,” I said.

“I don't think you could embarrass yourself,” he said.

I stared at him. “Um, are you kidding me? You do realize I started this date by running away from you because I thought you were a pedophile? And, last week—”

He interrupted me mid-sentence by leaning in and planting his lips on top of mine. I spluttered in surprise before my brain whirred into action and I kissed him back. Lara and Emma were so wrong—my embarrassing stories
were
seductive.

He stood up from his stool and came closer to me as we kissed. I leaned against him and he started rubbing his tongue against mine. I reciprocated to the best of my abilities and put my hands on his face. He grabbed my arse and pulled me in towards him. I gasped out loud at how X-rated things were getting, but JT seemed to interpret it as a sound of pleasure and started snogging me at double the speed.

I held on to the bar to steady myself and, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the barman shake his head in disgust. The British prude inside of me tried to break away, but JT pulled me in closer towards him and squeezed my boob.

“You're so sexy,” he murmured in my ear. “I'm just going to go to the bathroom and then I'm taking you home with me.”

I nodded mutely and he winked at me before turning around and walking away. I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding in. This was it. I was going to have my first ever one-night stand.

“Excuse me,” said the barman.

“Oh, I don't want another drink,” I said. “Thanks but we're off now.”

He raised his eyebrows at me. “I was actually going to say, I think you have something on your face.”

I stared at him in confusion and then reached out to touch my face. It was damp. Oh how embarrassing, it must be saliva, but . . . how could he see that? I lowered my hand and squinted at it in the purple UV light. It was covered in a dark liquid.

WHAT THE FUCK WAS ON MY FACE?

I stood up and rushed towards the mirrored walls of the bar. My entire left cheek, and parts of my forehead, were covered in this brown liquid. Had I rubbed against some paint? Was it red wine?!

I whirled around to look at the barman again. He was hiding a grin. “I think it might be blood,” he said.

Blood?! Why was my face bleeding?? Then it slowly dawned on me. It wasn't my blood. It was JT's. He had nose-bled on my face.

My hands jumped to cover my face instinctively and I ran blindly towards the loos. I pushed past the queue of surprised girls and raced to the mirror. Under the bright yellow lights I could see my face was covered in blood. I looked like a Halloween midwife.

I turned the taps on full and began washing it off my face. It slid off along with half my makeup. After furiously scrubbing at my skin with paper towels, I was blood free. Thank God.

Then I realized I had to go back outside to JT. God, I couldn't go home with him now—I couldn't even face him. What were you supposed to say to the guy who nose-bled on you mid-snog? Had he known all along that he was bleeding on me? Or did he only realize when he went to the loo? Surely he had seen it on my face—why the fuck hadn't he told me??

I couldn't deal with this right now. It was just too embarrassing. Maybe I could just hide out in the loo stall for a few minutes and, once JT had got the message and left, I could go home. I glanced over to the loo cubicle but then as the main bathroom door swung open, I saw the inside of the bar. I could vaguely make out JT
skulking in a corner. I ran straight into the nearest cubicle and slammed the door shut.

•   •   •

“Hello? Lady?”

I jumped in alarm. I was sitting on a toilet seat with my head in between my legs and there was someone banging on the cubicle door. Oh my God, JT. The blood. I was hiding in the loo. Had I been here all night?!

I cautiously unbolted the loo door and peered out. The toilet attendant had her hands on her hips and looked seriously pissed off.

“You've been in there twenty minutes, lady. We have a no drugs policy. I've called the manager.”

Drugs?? Surely I could have just had a bad stomach? I looked around the loos and realized there was still a queue of girls. The bar hadn't closed and JT could still be outside waiting for me. The bathroom door opened and the barman from earlier was standing there.

“You again.” He grinned.

“I wasn't doing drugs I promise. I . . . fell asleep on the loo.”

He hid a smile and I realized he was kind of attractive. Even though he was only about an inch taller than me, he had an impressively symmetrical face, three-day stubble and short blond dreadlocks.

“Was that after you were cleaning blood off your face?” he asked.

I briefly closed my eyes. Did he really have to remind me of the humiliation?

“Anyway,” he said. “You know your boyfriend's been waiting for you this entire time out there?”

“Oh fuck, is he still there?” I cried out. “I thought he'd have gone by now.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “You're hiding from your boyfriend?”

“Oh, you know he's not my boyfriend,” I snapped at him. “He's
my first ever online date and, after he nose-bled on me, I didn't fancy seeing him again.”

“Oh, obviously,” he said. “That's how all my dates go too.”

I was about to snap at him again when I noticed he was grinning at me. “Yeah, this hasn't been one of my best.”

“Hey, how about I help you sneak out of here without seeing your guy?” he offered.

“Ohmigod would you really? I would literally love you for life.”

“Okay, calm down,” he said. “Just . . . follow me.”

I followed him out of the toilets and through a door marked “Private.” We walked up the stairs and then found ourselves outside. I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thanks so much.”

“Hey, don't mention it.” He shrugged. “You've drastically improved my night on the comedy scales anyway.”

“Hopefully I'll find it as funny tomorrow. So what's your name?”

“Pete.” He grinned. “And the damsel in distress?”

I looked at him blankly. “Ohhh, right. Ellie. I'm Ellie.”

“Nice to meet you, Ellie,” he said. “Well, get home safe, and feel free to bring any more of your online dates here. I'll help you out with an escape route whenever you need one.”

“Wait, really? Because that would be kind of incredible.”

He laughed. “Let's do it. This can be your regular bar for dates and I'll help you out when they bleed on you.”

“Okay, deal.” I grinned. “Anyway, I'm sobering up and I reckon I'd better get the bus home, so . . . I'll see you around.”

“See you.”

“Ohmigod, what the fuck is on her face?”

“It looks like . . . dried blood.”

I pulled the duvet over my head. “What's happening?” I groaned.

A bright light seared through my eyes as my duvet flew off me.

“And she's naked,” a male voice said.

I clutched my boobs and looked around me wildly as my pupils slowly dilated and my room came into focus. Emma was sitting on my bed scratching at her nails, Will was dramatically shielding his eyes with my duvet and Ollie was politely looking at his battered Nike hightops at the far end of my room.

“What are you all doing?” I asked, with as much dignity as I could muster with my hands over my nipples.

“Babe, do you wanna put some clothes on?” asked Emma. “We thought we'd all wake you up and hear the goss about your first online date, but then we saw this . . . blood on your face.” She held up her sparkling green nails at me, and I saw flakes of JT's dried nose-blood on the tips of her talons.

I sighed loudly. “Right, okay,” I said. “Why doesn't everyone turn around and I'll put my dressing gown on?” Obligingly, my housemates turned their backs to me and I grabbed my fluffy dressing gown from the floor and wrapped it around me. “Okay, we're good,” I said.

“Thank God,” cried Will, as he lowered my duvet from his face. “I was starting to pass out in this thing. When did you last do a whites wash?” He saw my face and switched topics. “Anyway, never mind about your washing. How was JT?”

“And . . . the blood?” asked Emma.

I looked at Ollie's face and sighed. He was never going to see me the same way again. Not that it really mattered. I took a deep breath and began.

“So, I got to Angel and looked for the man in the red scarf, but he was forty and wrinkly with a beer belly.” There were shocked gasps and I smiled proudly, knowing my date horror story was worse than any of theirs. “So, naturally, I ran away. But, whilst I was trying to get away, I tripped on the pavement.”

“Oh my God,” screeched Will.

“So I was lying on the pavement, terrified, when someone came up to me. It was JT—only the real one. He was normal aged with a slightly different red scarf, and the first JT was just a massive mistake.”

“Oh,” said Will. “I thought you were going to say the blood was from some kind of perverted sexual assault.”

“Um, no,” I said slowly. “If that had happened I would have called the police and would not be telling you this so casually.” He shrugged and I carried on, ignoring my pounding hangover. “Anyway, JT was gorgeous and normal and I even ate a second dinner for him. Then we went for drinks and he paid for everything, and we snogged loads. Only then he went to the loo and the barman told me I had stuff on my face and . . . it was blood. Because, he nose-bled on me.”

All three of my flatmates stared at me in revulsion.

“Fuck me, that's disgusting,” cried Will.

“Oh yeah? Coming from the guy who uses conditioner as lube?”

Ollie grinned. “Shit, Ellie, that is one hell of a date story.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“It's hysterical,” he said. “But . . . did you go home with him after?”

I paused as I tried to remember what happened next. The rest of the night was a warm fuzzy blur of—

“Oh God,” I cried. “I went to the loo to wash it off then I hid in there from him and fell asleep. Until the hot manager came and took me out the secret fire escape.”

Emma and Will started howling with laughter, but Ollie stared at me. He looked kind of impressed. “A hot manager?” he asked. “Shit, your night sounds pretty wild.”

I shrugged, hiding a grin. My night did sound dramatic. So much for “single Ellie with her single bed”—I so almost had a one-night stand. “Yeah, I guess it was. Does it make you miss your single days?”

He stared straight into my eyes and I felt my knees go tingly. “Sometimes,” he said softly.

“That's fucking ridiculous,” gasped Emma. She was rolling on my bed with Will, still snorting with laughter. “It reminds me of the time you got with the only emo in Mahiki.”

“Emma, you weren't even there that night,” I snapped.

“And then you slipped on your friend's come in your bath,” she gasped.

Will sat up straight. “Come . . . or conditioner?” he asked, and then collapsed with laughter again.

I rolled my eyes at them. “Guys, get over it. We've all had bad dates.”

“Uh yeah, but I've never abandoned mine after they bled on me,” cried Will. “Mainly because they've never bled on me.”

“EWWW the blood,” shrieked Emma as she remembered it was on her hands. “I'm covered in a strange man's blood. OHMIGOD AIDS!!”

“Fuck,” I cried in panic. “You don't think . . . ?”

Will groaned loudly. “You're both so fucking stupid sometimes,” he said. “AIDS is a severe form of HIV and you're not going to get it from his nosebleed unless it's gone into an open wound on your face. Do you have a cut on your face, Ellie?”

I raced over to my full-length mirror and examined my face. “Okay, no,” I admitted.

“Then, my darling, you are AIDS free,” he said. “Congratulations.”

I hobbled downstairs to the kitchen to find breakfast and stop my hangover. My head was banging and I needed carbs to soak up the alcohol. But all I had was Sainsbury's own brand Crunchy Nut Cornflakes.

Forlornly, I tipped the packet into a bowl and reached for the milk. I was pouring it in when I realized there were small black lumps floating in my bowl. What the fuck were they?! I grabbed a spoon and lifted a few out to examine them closely. They looked like rabbit poos, only smaller.

Then I froze. There were sounds coming from my cornflakes carton. I took a deep breath and moved towards it. I held on to the sideboard to steady myself and hesitantly peered inside. There was a tiny gray lump moving in my cornflakes. I opened my mouth and screamed.

Will walked into the kitchen. “Seen a mouse?” he asked nonchalantly, as he pushed past my trembling body to get to his cupboard.

“IT'S IN MY CORNFLAKES!” I shrieked.

“Yeah, there's a few in here,” he said. “I saw a bunch running out of the bin bags last week.”

I stared at him aghast. “Are you fucking kidding me? You've
seen mice in here, and you didn't think to tell anyone?! What's wrong with you, Will? We need to buy traps and . . . and poison.”

“Ellie,” he said, “we live in London. Obviously we're going to have mice. Besides we have a four-bed in Haggerston with a living room and only pay £550 each. We're lucky we just have mice.”

“As opposed to?” I asked. “Oh fuck, do you mean RATS?”

“Calm down,” he sighed. “You can't have mice and rats at the same time.”

“They're . . . mutually exclusive?”

“Exactly,” he said. “Anyway, are you going to eat those cornflakes? I'm starving.”

“There is a mouse in the box,” I said slowly. “Do you not get this?”

“Whatever.” He shrugged. “I'll just take the mouse out.”

I stared at him in incomprehension and backed out of the kitchen quickly, straight up the stairs to Emma's room.

“Em,” I cried, as I pushed open her door. “There's loads of mice and Will doesn't care. What do we do?”

“Ugh, I know,” she said, as she paused the program she was watching on her laptop. “I've just been getting Serge to bring me food or staying at his more.”

“Right, well, some of us don't have a boyfriend to rely on, so . . . shall we buy some traps and try and get rid of them?” I asked in frustration.

“Meh, I don't think they really work,” she said. “Besides, it's not like they're rats.”

How was my best friend okay with mice living in our cereals? I shook my head at her and went straight to Ollie's room. I knocked and waited for him to reply.

“Come in,” he called.

I pushed open the door and walked into his room. It was all gray, and the only effort he had put into decorating it was a collage of pictures of him and Yomi stuck onto his wardrobe. They were both
so attractive that they looked like a celeb couple. She had massive green eyes and a weave that made her look like Beyoncé. Ugh.

I walked straight past her smiling face and sat down on his bed.

“What's up?” he asked.

“Mice,” I announced. “Apparently they live with us and I found one in my cornflakes.”

He laughed. “Shit, I can't believe they got into your food.”

“I know. Who knew mice love store-brand cornflakes?”

“Glad to see we don't have middle-class mice. Maybe we should name them,” he suggested.

“Or,” I said, “perhaps we could, um, exterminate them all?”

He scrunched up his face at me and I stopped myself running over to touch it. “How do you propose we do that?” he asked.

“Traps? Poison? Pest-killing men?”

“I think the men only come in for rats and stuff, and I reckon they'd be pretty expensive, but I guess we could try the others. The only thing is that poison means the mice will eat it then die wherever they are. We could have dead mice living in our walls.”

“Ohmigod, ew.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, so, traps?” I asked.

“Two options: lovely humane cages that just catch them without hurting them but cost loads, or cheap traps that snap their legs and get blood everywhere,” he said.

I groaned and collapsed back onto the bed. It smelled musty but in a sexy kind of way. Ew, it was probably his and Yomi's sex smells. I sat up again. “You don't want to do anything either, do you?” I asked him.

“The others want to leave the mice alone too?”

“Yeah, and I can tell you do as well. Am I the only one who wants to eat food that's not contaminated by mice poo?”

“I think so,” he said. “But, hey, if we keep the house extra clean
for a bit, they'll go away on their own. Or, at least, there'll be less of them.”

“Okay,” I sighed. “And there was me thinking that living in an East London flatshare would be glamorous.”

“Nothing glamorous about earning the minimum wage in our twenties,” he said.

“But at least you have an actual job,” I said. “Doesn't advertising pay well?”

“Not in your first year, and not when every graduate in London is willing to do it for free as an internship.”

“Ah, yeah, that would be me.”

“Don't worry. I did my fair share of interning too. And journalism is way cooler than advertising so I reckon it will pay off in the long run.”

“Mmm, maybe,” I said. “Anyway, on less depressing topics, how's stuff with Yomi?”

“Yeah, good,” he said. “But, I guess . . . well four years is a long time to be together and long distance is hard at the moment. It will be easier when she's not still up in Bristol and she's back here in London.”

“Yeah definitely.” I nodded, as though I was highly experienced with long-term, long-distance relationships. “I'm sure it will get easier soon.”

“I hope so,” he said. “It's getting to that weird time where I'm twenty-five and I've had the same girlfriend for four years. I kind of miss playing the field.”

Oh my God. My dreams were coming true. Ollie wanted to break up with Yomi. I forced myself to breathe calmly. I couldn't suggest they break up or it would look bad. I had to be subtle.

“Maybe you should?” I asked. Subtle was overrated.

“Ah, who knows what will happen. You're lucky, you don't have to deal with any of this crap.”

“Mm, yeah, so lucky that no one wants to date me. They just want to bleed on me.”

He laughed. “That's more action than I've got all week. Anyway, are we going to go clean this kitchen or what?”

“Let's do it,” I said. “Maybe my man-repelling powers will work on these mice. Fingers crossed they're male.”

“What if they're gay mice? They'll be all over me.”

“Ha ha. They'd be over Will more like.”

“Hey, I'm not that bad.”

“I know. I mean, I, uh . . . Kitchen?”

He grinned at me. “Kitchen.”