‘And how about you, Leo?’ Sam fixed his eyes on mine, trying to hold my stare, which was torn between his real face and my imitation of him. ‘Are free-spirited artists the relationship type?’
‘Maybe.’ I shot him a look as he craned to see my sketch. I wanted to keep him guessing.
‘Right, your turn.’ I jumped to my feet and pulled Sam up to stand, enjoying our contact.
‘Okay, okay.’ He surrendered, holding my hands in his for just a second too long before picking the sketchpad up from the chair. ‘Jess, this is insane.’ He beamed across at me.
‘Well, it’s your face,’ I quipped.
‘Yes, I know my face isn’t normal,’ he laughed, ‘but nor is this.’ He gestured to my drawing as I felt a warm glow fill my stomach. It was all I was good at, all I wanted to do. ‘I can see why they shortlisted you.’ I had just got the email this morning, the excitement feeling like it might never wear off. Winning was such a long shot but one of the judges had said I was ‘going places’, and even recommended me to a personal contact who ran an evening class in London that would help ‘develop my skills’.
‘I’m not following that.’ Sam got to his feet, coming to sit on the bed beside me.
‘You have no choice.’ I laughed, pointing back to the chair. ‘You got yours.’ I framed my face with my hands, beaming broadly.
‘There’s no point,’ he said, a hint of seriousness laced in his voice. ‘It’ll be shit.’
‘Define “shit”?’ I probed, knowing that when it came to art he’d not know how to.
‘Not this.’ He gestured around the room, his hand finding its way to mine as he rested them back down.
‘Well, beauty is in the eye and all that…’ I laughed again, squeezing his hand tighter.
‘That’s what scares me.’ Sam grinned, turning to look at me. ‘It’s so subjective. I’m a medic. We like science, solutions, security…’
‘Alliteration?’
‘I’m sssssssserious…’ Sam joked, pulling me a little closer still.
‘Come on.’ I poked his side, playful, flirtatious. ‘Not everything in life needs to be perfect, Doctor,’ I mocked, as he grabbed hold of my hands, pinning me to the bed, pressing his weight on top of me, and then his lips on top of mine, kissing me lightly at first, then with more pressure. He pulled away, my breath caught, my mind nowhere but him.
‘Well’ – he grinned down at me – ‘can’t blame a man for trying.’
Chapter 5
2 August 2020 – Sydney, Australia
I woke with a start. Where was I? I reached for the light, the faces of Sam and Jamie staring back at me from the photo frame. Shit, that’s where I was. Sam’s sodding apartment. But not just Sam’s – Sam and Jamie’s apartment. Their apartment. That they shared together. Because they were together. I felt sick. I checked my phone and a notification from Zoe flashed up. My stomach flipped. I couldn’t tell her where I was, not when she’d sent me off to get my shit together. Not when she had it all sorted. I swiped away the notifications before clocking the time; it was only quarter to three. Now my stomach groaned; I hadn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday. And a liquid dinner didn’t count. I needed food. ‘Help yourself to anything in the cupboard,’ Jamie had said. ‘Come and go as you please,’ she had said. Well, if she insisted.
Savouring the touch of the sheets, I slunk out of bed and towards the door. Pulling it open, I braced myself to hear moans of pleasure rising from the master bedroom, or worse – the L-shaped sofa where I had left them hours before. I remembered the way Sam used to touch, used to taste. When would my brain just learn to shut up?! Greeted with silence, I proceeded to push the door open, tiptoeing across the corridor and out to the kitchen-living room. Made it. Now, food. I just needed something quick and easy. Opening a cupboard, I prayed for Pringles. Instead, I was greeted with an array of ingredients. Damn. I remembered Sam’s basket from the day before and Jamie’s horror that he’d not bought organic, when the Sam I knew literally didn’t look at the price before purchasing something, never mind the origin of the products. I bet she could cook. I mean, who has a sculpted body like hers from eating Pringles? Moving like a mime, hands searching my way around the unfamiliar space, I found my way to the fridge. As I opened the door, light cascaded into the darkened room.
‘Jess?’
Slowly and without turning round, I closed the fridge door and, half asleep, I got down onto all fours and crawled underneath the kitchen table. Shit, shit, shit. I thought they had gone to sleep. But no, I should have known. After watching a romantic movie (okay, well, some action film with a couple of love scenes – this was Sam after all), they would have cosied up, laughing fondly about how lovely it was to be able to give back to the community by taking in the riffraff. He would have looked into her eyes and said, ‘You know how beautiful you are, J?’ and she would have forgiven every annoying thing he had done that day and let him take her in his arms and kiss her, kiss her harder, and then her neck and then her collarbone and then… stop it, stop it, stop it. And now they were there, entwined on the sofa, naked bodies pressed together. And I was here, on my hands and knees underneath their table having just tried to rob them of their leftovers in broad fridge-light. I had to get out of here. I could just see the archway leading to the hall; if I was quick I could make it back to the box room and deny being awake in the night at all costs. Slowly, on my hands and knees, I began to crawl in the direction of the arch. Suddenly the room filled with light and I stopped still, looking up into the face of my puzzled ex-boyfriend once again.
‘Jess?’ Sam gazed down at me in his girlfriend’s slinky pyjamas. Kill me, kill me right now. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked, rubbing a hand to his sleepy disbelieving eyes.
‘I, erm… got hungry.’
‘So, you decided to lick the floor?’
Slowly I unfolded myself to stand, dreading having to face Jamie in her own slinky pyjamas or worse, even less. I looked over to the sofa; there was no one there, only a messy set of sheets and a single set of pillows. ‘No I… I didn’t think you’d be in here,’ I said. ‘Where’s Jamie?’
‘She’s in her room,’ Sam responded, his voice in a whisper, his hair all fluffy and cute.
‘Her room?’ I asked.
‘Jess, I— about earlier…’ he said, still in a whisper, eyes darting to the archway into the room to double-check Jamie wasn’t about to appear. Was he finally about to explain what he couldn’t bring himself to say when he had first brought me back here? Why he brought me back here? I looked again at Sam’s single set of sheets. Now I wanted this explanation even more.
‘Jess, yesterday when I saw you…’ Sam followed my distracted gaze to the sheets and then looked back at me, allowing his sleepy eyes to drift down to where Jamie’s silk cami was slightly puckering over my chest, his cheeks pinkening as he took another step towards me, like a sleep-drunk moth dreaming towards a flame.