Saving from Monkeys (12 page)

"So what have you
got?" I demanded. "Broken ribs? Internal bleeding? Just the usual holiday ending shenanigans?"

"Pretty much," he groaned, straightening up with an effort and looking at me balefully, "no big deal."

No big deal
?

"You are a knob-head," I said decidedly. "My mum likes you, you know. It would've been a real downer to have to go home with the news that you were just too immature to survive anymore."

"Nice of you to not draw too much attention to the fact that
my
mum wouldn't have been as bothered," he said wryly and I drew in a sharp breath.

"
This better not have been an attention seeking thing!" I exclaimed, his risk-taking behaviour suddenly cast in a new light. "Because your mum's not going to pay you any more attention if you're dead." I suddenly heard how harsh that sounded and hurriedly added, "And by that I mean, of course your mum doesn't want you dead."

The low rumble of conversation continued around us, interspersed with laughter and backslapping
, presumably as Elliot's slingshot adventure was recounted. Between me and Elliot, however all went quiet as he gave my pronouncement some thought.

Finally, he smiled a twisted little smile and said, "Well that's something, I guess."

I didn't really know what to say to that. It really was one of the most disconcerting things about my life, the way I didn't know the first thing about Elliot and yet knew everything. Then again, I didn't need to have practically lived in the Sinclair house for 8 years to know that his mum was a complete cow. 8 minutes would have sufficed.

Still, I didn't think Elliot really wanted to get into a deep 'why doesn't my mum like me?' conversation out here with all his rich buddies milling around casting us interested looks. This thought was reinforced as, after a much shorter pause, he suddenly said,
"Like your new look by the way, very study shabby chic. The hoodie really makes it."

Which was when I remembered that, due to a long time between laundromat trips
, I was wearing his 'I do it like the animals do' hoodie.

Monkeys
.

I looked down at my (correction:
his
) crumpled jumper, and baggy grey track pants and shrugged to cover my mortification.

"Not all of us roll out of bed looking like an ad for aftershave," I said, trying desperately hard to hide how discomfited I was. Family angst and then being sprung in his top in such quick succession was hard to handle. "And, anyway, Economics doesn't care how I dress," I added piously, "it loves me just the way I am."

"Which is just as well, because you're not going to pick up anyone else looking like that," he said cheerily, all the 'my mum doesn't love me' stuff seemingly forgotten as I glowered at him.

"Watch it, I made you flinch just by poking you," I growled. "Imagine how much it would hurt if I got creative with my shoe."

"Fair point," he admitted. "But seriously, are you sure my hoodie's not just a front for some skimpy little outfit? You could be wearing anything under there."

And,
oh my God
, he snagged the back of his jumper and looked down.

"...or nothing," he finished, the smile in his voice painfully evident.

I flushed a deep red and squirmed away from him, thankful that it was only my bare back he'd gotten a look at. Well, really! I was just in my room studying. It was hardly a crime to throw a jumper on over nothing. It was baggy enough that you couldn't tell, anyway. Couldn't tell, that is, unless some nosey boy stuck his head down there.

I looked up from rearranging the top so it sat properly and caught Elliot looking at me in a way I'd never seen before. It was almost…fond? The moment passed quickly and he grinned at my blush
, shaking his head patronisingly. "You're one of a kind, Rox."

"Yeah, like I'm the only one around here not wearing a bra," I said crossly. I looked around and saw a prime example leaning against one of the other cars, tossing her hair about like a nervous racehorse and staring intently in Elliot's direction.
"Miss Creepy of Stalkersville, for example, is displaying some quite sensational side-boob, no bra action over there."

"Where?"
He looked round and then cursed and whipped his head back round. "Eye contact," he hissed, "rookie mistake."

I watched as the girl, apparently needing no further provocation than a quick glance
in her direction, unfurled herself off the car and began to stalk towards us, her hips swinging as if she was a model on a catwalk. Switching my gaze back to Elliot and seeing his shoulders hunch, I felt my stomach sink. Right, of course, he'd slept with her.

It wasn't that I was
surprised
Elliot hooked up with these girls; he was 20 and hot and surrounded by girls of a similar age and hotness level so I got it. And obviously it wasn't that I
minded;
we'd had a stupid, drunken, meaningless one night stand, I hardly had any claim to him or anything. It was just...rich pretty boy sleeping around? It was such a cliché.

"Remember, random slutty girls aren't just for Christmas, Smelliot," I said under my breath in a sugary sweet tone as the girl drew alongside us. "They're yours for life."

"Elliot!" The girl leant in to wrap her arms briefly around his neck and I tried not to take some nasty little pleasure in the way he winced as she touched him. Not appearing to have noticed his pain, the girl leant back to smile charmingly at him. "It's been ages. How've you been?"

OK
, so not a recent notch on his bedpost then, that made me feel slightly better. No girl likes to think she'd barely collected up her clothes before another chick was shedding hers.

"H
ey, Samantha," Elliot greeted her, and I was impressed that he managed to sound so polite considering his reaction when he'd first seen her. "This is Rox."

My abrupt introduction seemed to throw
the new arrival, but good breeding clearly came to the fore and she smiled graciously at me.

"Hello." I watched her painfully blue eyes sweep over me and her perfectly manicured eyebrows arch slightly as if she wasn't quite sure what to make of me and my
suggestive hoodie. "So...um, how do you two know each other?"

"I was his chambermaid," I said brightly, thoroughly rewarded with a look of total incomprehension
that made Samantha's beautiful face all crumpled.

"His what?"

"Chambermaid," I repeated, ignoring Elliot's sigh. "You know, Elliot's bedroom was his chamber and I cleaned it. I was his chambermaid."

I noticed some more of Elliot's rich adventure buddies had looked over now, maybe they'd smelt a poor person in their midst.
..or maybe they too were impressed by Samantha’s undeniably eye-catching side-boob.

"You're his
maid
?" Samantha looked between Elliot and me as if trying to figure out if we were joking or not.

"That's right." I lifted my chin, daring her to make something of it. Poor girl
, I probably should’ve just let it go, but it's really hard not to mess with someone so pretty when you haven't had a shower that day.

Samantha
glanced again at Elliot and he said, "Well, she's not
now
. Back in the day, though, she used to dig through my stuff and pretend it was because she was cleaning, yeah."

"Oh, well," Samantha recovered from her
disbelief with quite impressive poise and attempted an open smile. "Nice to meet you, Rox."

"And you," I said, hoping that the next time I saw her I was the CEO of a multi-million dollar corporation and had brushed my hair.

Clearly sensing that she wasn't going to get anywhere with Elliot that day, Samantha cast me one last quick look before turning back to Elliot. Stepping forward, she delicately placed a hand on his shoulder and leant in to whisper, if the look on his face was anything to go by,
not
so delicate things into his ear. Moving back, she dropped a light kiss on his lips, said "See you later," and sashayed away, leaving a long line of gawking guys in her wake.

"Well," I said into the resounding silence that followed her departure, "if you don't do her I will. She's hot."

Elliot let out a bark of laughter, that turned into an alarming wheeze, and clutched at his ribs. "You girls," he gasped as his face paled, "you'll be the death of me."

"You're the one who slingshot yourself," I tutted, but I could see he was genuinely in pain, and I wasn't such a witch that I didn't feel a bit sorry for him.

In fact, as he clutched harder at the car as if to stop himself swaying, I heard myself sigh and say, "Look, standing around down here's probably not doing you any good. You could come up to Abi's and mine and lie down for a bit if you want."

He looked at me quickly in surprise, but didn't say anything and I started to feel embarrassed, as if my invitation had had a Samantha-like edge.

"You know what?" I asked as the silence between us dragged on. "Offer withdrawn in 3…2…"

"I accept," he said quickly and then, more awkwardly, "thanks."

I ignored his thanks, that word sitting weirdly between us, and instead eyed his reliance on the car before asking uncertainly, "Can you walk alright?" He nodded, but there was an uncertain edge to it so I added, "Are you lying?" And he nodded again.

OK
then. I put my arm gently around his waist and felt his warm weight settle against my side. He didn't limp, but it was clear that every step hurt him as I guided him slowly towards the lifts that would take us up to my floor.

Clearly sad to see him go, there was a chorus of farewells from his buddies as we went past, which Elliot acknowledged with a somewhat regal wave. Because he was hurt, I forgave him this little bit of pomposity and only muttered one or two insults under my breath.

Abi and Jonah resubmerged as we drew alongside them, Abi breathlessly murmuring something about staying at Jonah's for the night even as I saw her eyes noting the position of my arm with interest. She didn't miss a trick that girl.

Elliot and I were silent in the lift up to my floor, leaving me plenty of time to ponder how he'd managed to get me from 'you're a knob-head' to nursemaid in less than 10 minutes. There was no denying the boy had skills.

Entering my room, I hesitated only momentarily before helping him over to my bed. Well, really! It's not like I could've put him in Abi's. First rule of a relationship, never have your boyfriend's best friend in your bed.

"Urgh," Elliot groaned, picking up one of my economics textbooks as I went to the kitchenette to grab him some water. "I hate this crap."

"Not exactly following the family line on that then," I snatched away my precious book and shoved the water at him. "The Sinclair name is pretty much Economics 101, I think your dad's actually mentioned in here somewhere..."

"Huh," he laughed humourlessly. "If he knew you
existed you and my dad would probably get along pretty well, you've certainly hit on his favourite topic."

"Fiscal policy?"
I asked finding the page I’d meant and turning it to show him.

He shook his head and replied,
"Himself."

"Well
, there's something that
does
run in the family then," I said with an eye roll, putting down the book and collecting up the rest of the papers so the bed was clear. As he shifted back and started to make himself comfortable against my pillows, I added, "You really shouldn't bag your dad out like that, you know. It only makes things with him a million times worse."

"Ah yes, but haven't you heard?" He fished into his pocket and pulled out a bottle of pills, swallowing two with the aid of the water I'd brought him before finishing, "I'm the ungrateful son. Badmouthing my dad is what I do; if I didn't do it we'd have nothing to talk about at Christmas."

I looked at him warily, cursing myself for guiding us back into family counselling territory, but disaster was yet again averted as he suddenly exclaimed, "Fuck me, how small is your room? You don't get much for what you pay for."

Ouch
!

"And how would you know?" I asked, thoroughly insulted. How could he drag me so quickly from feeling sorry for him to wanting to poke him in his sore stomach again?

"Right, sorry," he spoke hurriedly, but seemed sincere regardless as he shoved the pill bottle back in his pocket. "That was a shitty thing to say. I'm just knackered, do you mind if I...?" he vaguely motioned at the pillows and the dark shadows under his eyes seemed suddenly thrown into stark relief.

"No, go for it," I said quickly. "I'll just be over here..."

I trailed off feebly, but he just nodded, his eyes already closing. I guess it took a lot out of you, being launched by a slingshot.

Settling myself on Abi's bed, I pulled my textbooks open again, but it became clear pretty quickly that they weren't going to provide me with the same sense of tranquillity they had before. Elliot's breathing slowed, indicating he'd fallen asleep, but I was troubled by the wincing he seemed to be doing even while unconscious.
Just how hurt
was
he?