FAKING CLEVER

By Niccy S.

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C H A P T E R · 5

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Patrick Bailey.

He’s my height and age with fake tan skin, a scrawny frame and bottle-blond hair. I met him back when we both started as first year students at university. He was studying a Bachelor’s degree in Forensic Science and we took all the same core science subjects that year.

The first thing he ever said to me was ‘cuboid’.

I had been sitting on the hard linoleum floor outside a Human Anatomy laboratory and was frantically cramming for a mid-semester quiz. My notes had been spilled all over my lap and surrounding floor when he walked past and called me a cuboid in his naturally sing-song voice. I, of course, took this to be an insult to my apparently nerdy self.

Out of indignant pride and need to rid myself of pre-test nervous energy, I immediately picked a spectacular name-calling fight with him. Bailey had humoured me for a bit and said some pretty unflattering things about my hair, which I thought was a bit unfair considering his hair had been bleached white at the time and looked as though it had been scribbled through with green highlighter.

Only when I paused to catch my breath did he grin his puppy dog grin and say ‘it’s the bone on the lateral side of the tarsus between the calcaneus and the fourth and fifth metatarsal bones’.

I had done a mental head slap then. Of course, the cuboid bone! I had been muttering questions to myself and it turns out he had been trying to help me, not insult me. I still resented the comments about my hair though, and it was only after the cuboid question came up in the quiz that I sought him out to offer a coffee as an apology and thank-you.

He declined my offer of coffee but did suggest I buy him a can of Dr Pepper instead.

Patrick Bailey has been my best friend ever since and it wasn’t long before I realised he had an almost scary addiction to all things Dr Pepper.

An addiction Bobby was just noticing as we stepped around Bailey and entered the house.

We walked down a narrow corridor that opened up to a comfortable looking living room. Even with just the hallway light for illumination, I could make out the 7 ft tall Dr Pepper can pyramid in one corner, the large Dr Pepper bottle label collage hanging on the far wall and the row of classic Dr Pepper glass bottles lining the window sill.

I nodded over to an old advertisement poster draped over the arm of a nearby couch. ‘That’s new’.

Bailey nodded, yawned and rubbed sleep out of his eyes. ‘Yeah, a copy of a 1947 ad before the dot was removed after the ‘Dr’’ he mumbled.

‘Amazing what you can find on e-bay’

‘Truly,’ he agreed before squinting carefully at me and Bobby, ‘so what the fuck happened to you?’

Typical Bailey, always straight to the point. Most of the time he never felt the need to waste time with words, which is why it was so surprising when he became a published author almost straight after his University Graduation end of last year. He put his Forensic Science background to good use in publishing your typical thriller/crime novel under the pseudonym ‘D. R. Pepper’.

I sighed and flopped down on the couch, careful not to land on the poster. ‘You sure you want to know?’

‘No, but tell me anyway’

So I did.

I told him everything except for jumping into the taxi with the random girl. No use having Bobby laughing at me and having Bailey think I’m nuts. Well, more nuts than usual.

Bailey paled unexpectedly when I told him about being chased out of the hotel by Brute and Roy. ‘Did you see what colours were on their jackets?’ he asked, leaning forward intently.

‘What? I don’t know, their jackets were black’

‘Yes, but did you see any colours marking whether they’re part of a gang? Maybe which gang?’

‘Jeez, Bailey – I was just a little pre-occupied at the time. You know, running for my life and all that’

We stared at each other. Truth be told, I was getting a little creeped out by the serious look on my best friend’s face. This was Bailey. He may usually be blunt and straight to the point, but he was also hardly ever serious. There was always a mocking look in his eyes, a puppy dog grin on his face and a sing-song quality to his voice.

‘You’re scaring me,’ I announced bluntly after another half minute of intent staring. Bobby was looking curiously at Bailey, not saying a word.

Bailey suddenly grinned, ‘just curious, that’s all. I’m writing a new book, did you know?’

I blew out a sigh. ‘Well, that’s great but maybe we can save the research for another time. I have a favour to ask you’

‘Sure thing, baby doll. What’s up?’

Bailey has got to be the only guy I tolerate such pet names from. Out of anyone else’s lips it would sound creepy, from Bailey it sounded almost endearing.

‘I’m pretty sure it’s not safe for Bobby to go back to his hotel tonight. Would he be able to stay in your guest room tonight?’ I asked, flashing my friend what I hoped to be a winsome smile.

Bobby looked up from where he had wandered over to closely examine the collage of bottle labels. ‘What was that?’ he queried innocently, ‘afraid you’ll jump me in the middle of the night, hot stuff? I wouldn’t mind.’

I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘Forget it’.

He winked, ‘but I can guarantee you a good time’

Ugh. I was getting another headache.

Bailey grinned wickedly at Bobby. ‘Boy, if it’s a good time you’re after, I’m all yours’ he announced slyly with his own wink.

The teenager peered warily in the half-dark at Bailey, probably trying to figure out if the latter was kidding or not. To be honest, I didn’t know if Bailey was kidding or not. He could be somewhat promiscuous at times.

I didn’t really have any reason for sticking Bailey with Bobby other than it was more convenient for me. I had no spare room or spare bed for Bobby to crash on, and it would save me trying to explain to my parents why I had a teenage boy sleeping over. The more awkward questions avoided, the better.

After sorting out sleeping arrangements for Bobby with Bailey, I returned alone to my house. Two months ago, the elderly couple living next door had asked me if I was interested in renting out their house for one year while they went on one of those ‘around the World’ trips. While it had been sorely tempting due to the cheap rent they offered (it seemed they were desperate for someone to house sit), I declined and instead introduced them to Bailey. Surprisingly, the rather conservative pair had taken an almost immediate liking to my quirky friend. Maybe it was because Bailey could be downright charming when he wanted to be. Either way, the matter was settled within a week and I now had my best friend conveniently living next door.

As I was unlocking my front door, I realised with something akin to dread that I should probably give Mr. Westman a call and let him know what was going on. The only problem with that was I had no idea what was going on. I had forgotten to ask Bobby. What would I say? ‘I think your nephew did something illegal and now we’re running from a couple of bikies who want to kill him?’

I sighed and decided that maybe it wouldn’t seem so bad after a good night’s sleep. Probably not a good idea to wake the boss up just after midnight anyway. Instead, I splashed some cool water on my face, did a half-ass job tending to my injuries, and crawled into bed after throwing on my PJs. My head hit my pillow and I relaxed, waiting for sleep to come.

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I woke up less than two hours later with a groan.

My alarm clock told me that it was 1:54 a.m. and my throbbing headache told me that I wasn’t going back to sleep any time soon. With more of a sigh than a groan this time, I reluctantly pushed aside my bed covers and sought out my fluffy cow patterned slippers. Despite it being December, and therefore the middle of Summer, the wooden floor of my attic seemed to be perpetually cold all year round.

I shuffled into the bathroom, grabbed two soluble panadol tablets and then made my way downstairs to the kitchen to pour out a half glass of water. Unlike all my friends and family, I have never mastered the act of tablet swallowing or pill popping. I gag whenever I try and it’s never pretty.

Luckily for me, some drugs now come in a soluble form.

Dropping the two tablets into the water glass, I listened to it fizz and dissolve as I turned off the kitchen light and started heading back to the stairs at the front of the house.

The sound of metal scratching on metal somewhere outside in the street made me pause and glance curiously out the window beside the front door. I was in the middle of sculling my drink when my eyes rested upon Bobby illuminated by the street lamp and dim moonlight.

He was trying to break into my Astra.

Oh my God.

I nearly spat out a mouthful of water onto the foyer floor. Quickly downing the rest of my drink, I left it on the hall stand and grabbed my keys from the bowl resting there. I was out the front door and halfway across the street within seconds.

‘Robert Westman, what the hell do you think you’re doing?’ I hissed angrily, not wanting to wake up the whole neighbour by shouting out loud.

The kid jerked his head up, startled at the sudden sound of my voice. And the uncanny thing is that he looked relieved.

Bobby actually looked relieved to have me catch him breaking into my car.

‘Oh, thank God,’ he breathed, ‘unlock the car, will ya?’

I looked at him in dumb shock. ‘What? No!’ I said, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him away from my poor battered car, ‘what the hell is going on?’

‘I left something back at the Hotel that I really need to get’

‘And so you were going to steal my car and drive back to get it?’

‘I was going to borrow your car’

Shit. I couldn’t deal with this right then, the panadol had yet to kick in and cure my headache. I released his arm and squinted my eyes shut, hoping everything would just go away so I could have a peaceful night of sleep.

‘Go back to bed, Bobby. We’ll deal with this in the morning’

‘No’

I opened one eye. ‘Excuse me?’

‘I’m going back to the Chambers’ Hotel tonight, with or without your help,’ he said.

I had both eyes open now and narrowed at him, ‘you break into mine or anyone else’s car and I’m calling the police’

‘But then you wouldn’t get your money from my uncle’

Touché.

There was no doubt that this kid deserved to be locked up with the key thrown away – he was a menace to himself and everyone around him. He was right though, there was no way I was going to get my two thousand dollars if he ended up in jail - and I was definitely beginning to think that I deserved that money.

I hesitated, ‘what is it you need to get?’

‘Can’t say’

‘Can’t or won’t?’

Silence.

He wasn’t really doing anything to help his case and he knew it. We locked eyes and he did the one thing I hadn’t expected him to do.

He begged.

‘Please, Kayla... Please. I need your help’

He looked so pathetic that I couldn’t help it.

I caved in.

‘Okay kid, get in the car’.

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It was twenty minutes later and I had done two loops of the block before finally slowing down in front of the Chambers’ Hotel. I had seen no motorcycles, no Brute, no Roy and no Officer Stanley. It was probably safe, right? Sure, there were a few drunk and loud teenagers stumbling about – but so long as Bobby kept his mouth shut I was almost certain that none of them wanted to kill him.

Even as I slowed my Astra to a stop, I continued to peer through the glass walls of the lobby to search for suspicious characters. Call me paranoid, but being shot at was not exactly an experience I wanted to repeat.

Bobby, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have any problem or regard for his personal safety. The moment my foot touched the brake, he was out of the car – brown afro bobbing as he jogged towards the entrance and inside the hotel.

I just sat there for a moment, staring after him in awe of his apparent lack of common sense and wondering how much of the money I would get if I let Bobby get shot. Probably not much. Damn.

I was grudgingly contemplating whether or not to run in there after him, before deciding that I should just wait in the car. Of course it had nothing to do with the fact that maybe I was a chicken, but all to do with the fact that maybe he would need a fast getaway.

That was what I told myself, anyway.

One minuted passed.

And another.

I really didn’t want to go in there after him.

I had my mouth set in a grim line and my hand reluctantly on the door handle when I heard a familiar shout. I looked around to see Bobby burst out of the hotel doors and run flat out for my car, dark sunglasses pouch clutched tightly with one hand.

My initial response had been relief, quickly followed by panic as two tough looking men barrelled out of the hotel after the teenager. They weren’t Roy or Brute, but they were just as scary. I made a choking noise at the back of my throat as Bobby wrenched open the car door and dived into the passenger seat beside me.

‘Go, go – go!’ he urged, slamming the door shut behind him and having enough sense to hit the locks.

I didn’t need to be told again.

I raced out of the car spot, thankful for the empty streets and also thankful that I couldn’t hear any gun shots ringing out behind us this time. Actually, come to think of it – why weren’t there any shots? I risked a glance into the rear-view mirror and realised that the two assailants had disappeared. I scanned the street behind me, but couldn’t see them anywhere.

I got a sick feeling in my stomach but tried to tell myself that this was a good sign. Right?

‘Fuck, Kayla! Watch out!’ Bobby screeched from the seat next to me.

I pulled my eyes back to the front and almost started hyperventilating. Directly in front of me were Brute and Roy, each on their motorcycle, dressed in tough black leather and looking ready to do some serious harm.

Without really thinking about it, I slammed my foot down on the brake pedal and pulled down hard on one side of the steering wheel. The car did a messy and sudden 180 degree turn and I was sure I could smell burning rubber on asphalt.

Bobby got knocked to the side of the car with an ‘oomph’ and I cut my eyes to him for a moment. ‘You might want to put on your seatbelt, boy’ I advised him.

‘Yeah, thanks,’ he muttered as he shifted back onto his seat, one hand still clutched around his sunglasses pouch.

I was going to be extremely pissed off if this little adventure was all about his sunglasses.

They had better be designer.

Pushing that thought to one side, I hit the accelerator again and started heading back in the way I had come – Roy and Brute now behind me. I didn’t get away more than a few metres before the two other assailants appeared on their motorcycles in front of us.

‘OhmyGod!’ We were trapped.

I sat there for a moment, eyes wide and thoughts racing to re-evaluate my options. It was pretty simple, really. I could either go forward or go back, either way I was guaranteed to be in trouble. It was the assailant directly in front who made the decision for me by reaching inside his jacket and pulling out his gun.

Fuck.

Bobby swore and ducked down low in his seat even as I shifted the car into reverse and struck the accelerator again. At this rate, I was going to completely wreck my car. Not that I cared at that moment. I was too busy having a panic attack – trembling hands, pounding heart, a feeling of impending doom... it wasn’t a good feeling.

My little Astra sped backwards at an alarming speed before I heard a SMASH, followed by metallic screeching and a massive shudder running through the vehicle. The whole car jerked up as it rolled backwards over something hard before falling back to the road.

Bobby and my head hit the roof of the car simultaneously with a thump.

We both sat there dazed for a moment as I eased off the accelerator and tapped the brake automatically. We then winced and cautiously sat up to steal a look out the front windshield.

All four bikers were standing on the road before us.

All four bikers were staring down at a mangled heap of metal in the middle of the road, a look of wonder on their faces.

I followed their gaze to what appeared to be the spectacular remains of a motorcycle.

There was a minute of silence.

‘Shit, hot stuff. Where’d you get this car? The army?’

‘Sure,’ I said, not really listening to a word that Bobby was saying. I was too busy counting the remaining motorcycles –one, two, three... only the Brute seemed to be without one.

I swallowed hard.

The Brute was now looking up at me, face flushed and mottled with anger.

It was time to get out of there.

Even in the condition I was in, I managed what I thought was a pretty decent three-point turn and sped off down the street. Within seconds, I had the remaining three bikers on my tail. No matter which way I went, no matter how many turns I took - I couldn’t seem to shake them.

On the bright side, they weren’t shooting at me.

Yet.

I had made my way just out of the city centre by this stage and was on Anzac Parade, a more or less main road leading down to the South Eastern suburbs. It was probably a stupid move on my part since it was a fairly straight forward and wide road with not too many bends. A bad road if you’re trying to lose someone.

The only good thing is that the speed limit was increased from 60 kilometres an hour to 80 kilometres an hour. So while I was still speeding, it wasn’t by too much. It is always good to look on the bright side.

In my rear view mirror, I could see one of the motorcycles speed up – taking advantage of the lack of cars to cut across several lanes and pull up alongside of me. I was watching the rider steadying his bike, readying himself to do something awful, when I heard to best possible sound I could have heard at that point.

Police sirens.

I nearly collapsed in relief as I saw the blue and red lights flash behind me. The biker dropped away and disappeared almost immediately as I pulled over into the mahogany painted bus lane on my left hand side. I turned slightly in my seat to glance up and down the street.

Empty.

The other two bikers must have taken off upon hearing the police siren as well.

One minute later and a neatly dressed middle-aged policeman was standing by my open window, looking grim. He had a pen and pad in his hands.

I stared at him. ‘You’re giving me a ticket?’

‘You were speeding’

My jaw dropped slightly, ‘you’re kidding!’

He remained stony faced. ‘No, miss – I am not. You were going at ten kilometres over the speed limit’.

‘With good reason! We were being chased by-’

‘Have you been drinking this evening, miss?’

‘No’. Well, okay – so maybe a few hours ago, but that didn’t really count. It was only one drink. Why did everyone just assume I was drunk?

The police officer handed me back my licence and took a step away. At first I thought he was just going to let us go like Officer Stanley had, but instead he asked me to step out of the vehicle. I bit back a yell of frustration as I complied with his request. ‘You think I have been out drinking at a bar?’

‘It crossed my mind’.

Even as he said it, he looked me over as I stood at the side of the road with my arms hugging my sides. I was dressed in my favourite old teddy-bear boxer shorts and white t-shirt. I glanced down as he did, our eyes coming to rest on my furry cow-patterned slippers.

‘Okay, so maybe not at a bar. Maybe at home,’ he amended, scratching his chin and not quite too sure what to make of my dress sense. ‘Can you stand arms out and on one leg for me, please’.

I heard a stifled snort of laughter coming from the car and I snapped my head around to give Bobby my best glare. He was probably enjoying himself. Turning back to the policeman with a huff, I tried to explain the situation again.

‘Look, I know I was speeding, alright? But--’

‘Aha, an admission!’

‘Will you just listen to me?’

‘Are you raising your voice at me?’

‘NO’

He raised a brow and I took a deep breath, deciding to try that again.

‘Look, I was speeding – yes! But I was speeding to get away from a group of bikies on motorcycles who were trying to kill me! Do you understand? Or if not to kill me, though I’m sure one wouldn’t mind since I accidentally squished his balls, but they at least want to kill that scrawny kid you see there in my car... yeah, him. They ambushed us back at the hotel – four of them, though I ran over one of their motorcycles so we were only left with three chasing us and--’

‘On one foot please, and recite the alphabet backwards’

I stared at him, ‘I have not been drinking!’

‘Prove it’

‘Fine!’ If that was what it was going to take for him to believe me, then I would do his stupid drinking test. I didn’t even know they did this anymore, what happened to the breathalyser?

Apparently this policeman liked to do things the old fashioned way.

So I stood there on one leg in my pyjamas and cow slippers, one finger on my nose and reciting the alphabet backwards. ‘Z... Y... X... W... V- shit!’

It started off soft in the distance, but as it got closer the sound was unmistakable. It was a motorcycle heading this way. My eyes darted to the road as my heart rate kicked up and adrenaline was pumped through my system. I nearly had another panic attack as I saw a lone motorcycle slowing down slightly as it made its way towards us. In my mind’s eye I could just picture the rider pulling out a gun and aiming it at me, all unprotected by the side of the road.

Out of instinct and self-preservation, I fell to the ground hurriedly and dragged the police officer down with me as the bike roared past us. I was lying flat on my stomach with my hands covering the back of my head and my eyes squeezed shut, just waiting for my car to be riddled with bullet holes.

When I heard nothing of the sort, I opened my eyes with a grimace and found myself staring at the police officer’s thick soled black boots. The road was empty again and he had climbed to his feet, dusting the gravel off his pants. He was now fixing me with a triumphant sort of look. ‘You fell down, therefore failing the test. You have been drinking’.

‘I did not fall down!’

‘Yes, you did. And you took me down with you’.

I reached for my car door handle and dragged myself upright, also dusting myself off. I noticed that I had a few new scratches on my legs. Wonderful. ‘I thought that motorcycle rider was going to shoot at us! I was trying to save your life!’

‘Uh-huh’ he didn’t look convinced.

‘You’re not even going to check out my story?’

He hesitated. ‘Well, I suppose I should...’

Damn straight.

‘No need, Officer. Kayla has been drinking tonight, that’s all’

The police officer and I both turned to stare at Bobby, who had jumped over into the driver’s seat and had his head and shoulders hanging out the open window to address us. I gaped at him in shock. ‘What?’ I asked him, completely taken aback.

Bobby ignored me and smiled appealingly at the officer. ‘I wouldn’t pay her any mind, Officer. Kayla gets a little inventive whenever she has been drinking. Why don’t you just write her a ticket and we’ll be on our way?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir. If she has been drinking and driving – that is a pretty serious offence and I sh-’ he was cut off by the crackle of his car’s speaker system. I didn’t entirely understand all the codes and numbers used in the announcement, but the dispatcher made it sound pretty urgent.

The officer excused himself for a moment to head back to his car and converse with dispatch. In the mean time, I refrained myself from dragging Bobby out of the car by the hair and kicking him down the road. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ I hissed quietly, ‘you know I am not drunk’.

Bobby sighed and glanced back behind me to the officer who was returning from his car. The policeman didn’t look too happy. He began by saying ‘you know, I should really take you down to the station and issue you with a court attendance notice...’

‘But I didn’t do anything wrong!’ I protested.

He ignored me and began addressing Bobby. ‘Listen, no one was hurt, right? I have something more important in the area to attend to – so I’m going to let the girl off the hook. Make sure she gets home safe and do not let her drive, okay?’

Bobby fastened himself into the driver’s seat and turned the keys in the ignition, starting my car. ‘Of course, Officer. You have a good night’.

The police officer nodded, walked back to his car without another word and pulled out onto the empty road – lights flashing and sirens whirring to get him through a red light. Within seconds he was out of sight.

The moment he was gone, I stomped back over to the car and leaned into the car window to stare Bobby in the eyes. ‘Move over’.

He looked as though he was going to argue for a moment and then thought better of it. Not saying a word, he unfastened his seatbelt and scooted back over into the passenger seat. I was in a foul mood and he knew it.

I got into the car, slammed the door shut and just sat there with both hands on the wheel - trying to get my breathing and temper under control. I wound the window back up and then killed the engine. I wasn’t going anywhere until Bobby answered a few questions.

The first thing the kid said to me when I turned to him was ‘you should look on the bright side... he didn’t call you my girlfriend’.

There was silence as I contemplated that.

It was good to know that there was at least someone out there thought I could do better than Bobby. Letting out a deep breath, I asked ‘what exactly is going on? And don’t give me some bullshit answer’.

He at least owed me that much. And more.

Much, much more.

‘I’m kind of in a little bit of trouble’

Nah, really?

‘And?’ I prompted him.

He shrugged.

After everything I had been through, he was just going to shrug? ‘You’re not going to tell me anything?’ I asked, voice raising slightly.

He shrugged again. ‘I don’t think so, no’.

Bobby then reached into his jeans to pull out his mobile phone, calm as could be and apparently not with a care in the world. His entirely selfish attitude was the last straw for me. The events of the evening came crashing down at once and I snapped at that point. I couldn’t believe the nerve of the kid! I reached over to knock the phone out of his hand.

Smack.

I somehow slapped Bobby right across the face instead.

There was moment of stunned silence as I jerked back in my seat and Bobby stared at me like I was crazy. I couldn’t believe I just slapped the kid! I never slap people. The scary thing was that I didn’t even know if it was truly an accident or not.

It was on the tip of my tongue to offer a profuse apology, when he grinned unexpectedly.

‘It’s a good thing you hit like a girl’.

I didn’t know what to say.

I suddenly felt like hitting him again.

Resisting the urge and sitting on my hands just to make sure, I narrowed my eyes dangerously at him. ‘Tell me what’s going on, Robert’.

The grin slipped off his face and he hesitated. ‘I’m mixed up in something that I probably shouldn’t be mixed up in’.

The kid obviously didn’t think too highly of my intelligence. ‘Yeah, I sort of gathered that for myself. What else?’

‘It may be a little bit illegal...’

I frowned at him.

‘Okay,’ he amended, ‘it’s very illegal. Happy?’

‘Not really. What else?’

He hesitated again, ‘I have something that some other people want’

‘Bad people?’

‘Yes’

‘The bikers?’ I said it more as a statement than as a question, but he nodded anyway. I blew out a sigh and pulled one hand out from under my legs to run through my hair. He wasn’t really telling me anything new. The problem was that I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to know anything more.

‘And the sunglasses pouch?’ I ventured.

He bit his lip and didn’t answer.

I waited a minute, but still nothing was said.

Deciding not to push the issue, I turned back to face the front and restarted the engine.

Bobby remained silent during the whole drive back home.

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It took us longer than usual to get back to the northern suburbs since I had gone around in circles just to make sure we weren’t being followed by anyone. Police or bikers. When we finally reached my parent’s street, I parked in the same spot as last time and headed straight for my front door. Since I wasn’t going to disturb Bailey for a second time, I led Bobby quietly upstairs to the attic with me.

I didn’t bother to turn on any lights in my room since there was a street lamp right outside my curtain-less window.

The teenager looked around my room. ‘Not bad,’ he said, ‘but what’s with all the black?’

Apparently my sister had failed to clean up after herself earlier this afternoon. Sighing, I grabbed a pillow off of my bed and chucked it over to where he still stood in the doorway. ‘Don’t ask. My sister has decided to give Goth a go’.

He caught the pillow in his hands. ‘Cool’.

It wasn’t cool, but I didn’t feel like arguing.

I had two home-made quilts tucked under my arm, having pulled them out from the linen closet on our way upstairs. Dumping them onto the wooden floor beside my bed, I looked expectantly at Bobby.

He stared back at me, unimpressed. ‘You’re making me sleep on the floor? Your hard, uncomfortable wooden floor?’

‘If you had stayed at Bailey’s, you would’ve had a bed’

He sniffed with disgust, ‘you’re not even going to offer to share your bed?’

‘No’.

Okay, so maybe I wasn’t being very hospitable. Maybe I should’ve let him take my bed and I’d go sleep on the couch downstairs... but the truth was that I wanted him to suffer. Just a little bit. Was that really too much to ask for?

Without another glance at Bobby, I crawled straight into my own bed and buried myself in the covers. My head hit the pillow for the second time that night and the last thing I heard before drifting off to sleep was Bobby’s sigh of resignation.

At some point during the night I woke up to find Bobby’s dry afro hair taking up half my pillow and his arm slung across my chest, conveniently copping a feel. He was snoring lightly.

Too tired to do more than grunt, I gave him a hard shove and a kick.

Thump.

I turned over onto my side with a sleepy smile, snuggling my head back into the pillow. This time the last thing I heard before falling asleep was Bobby swearing from the floor.

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AN: This was long overdue, I’m sorry. Many thanks to anyone sticking with me. x