want to smoke inside,’ he said by way of explanation, taking out a light.
He glanced sneakily across at her. ‘Is that what I think it is?’
‘Might be,’ she said, touching her nose.
He gave her a long, sensuous look, which to her surprise made her shiver inside. He really did scrub up quite well. The thought made her giggle.
‘Care to share the joke?’
‘That’s for me to know and you to find out,’ Kezzie winked at him and took another puff. Suddenly the world seemed a happier place. She was at one with everything and feeling more relaxed than she had done all evening. She didn’t even mind that Troy was here. She’d thought him good looking when she first met him, but hadn’t realized quite how attractive he was.
‘It’ll cost you,’ she said with a grin.
‘Cost me what?’ he said softly, moving in slightly closer to her.
‘That depends …’ Kezzie was feeling reckless, she had a sudden impulsive feeling that anything was possible right now.
‘Are you flirting with me?’ Troy asked mock accusingly, leaning towards her in a highly suggestive way.
‘Might be,’ said Kezzie, leaning towards him in response. She felt a small tingle of excitement. He really was very sexy. She pushed the thought away, guiltily, remembering his past history with Lauren. Lauren was her mate, she really shouldn’t go there. ‘This is good stuff. Care to share?’
They shared the rest of the joint and Kezzie felt the world and her troubles disappear to a faraway shore.
She and Troy talked and talked. A rambling disconnected kind of conversation that seemed somehow effortlessly sublime and meaningful, as if they’d plumbed the depths of the universe. She was dimly aware that she felt quite pleasantly sleepy and Troy’s shoulder was very comfy. She came to with someone – Troy? – shaking her hard and saying, ‘You really need to go to bed.’
‘Bed. What a good idea.’ Kezzie suddenly woke up a little and giggled.
Lips on hers. A stubbly chin. A not unpleasant sensation. Hang on, what was going on? Oh. That was going on.
‘Troy, what are you doing?’ she said, but her words sounded far away, and she felt she was stuck in a tunnel, watching from a long distance as Troy took another Kezzie upstairs and laid her gently on the bed. The other Kezzie seemed out for the count. Sleep. An even better idea. Her vision slewed down to a single dot. ‘Night, night,’ she mumbled, and then everything went black.
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘Ouch, my head hurts.’ Kezzie woke to find sun pouring through her bedroom window, and the realization that she was lying on top of her duvet dressed in her t-shirt and knickers. How had she got there?
She blinked. Her throat felt dry and rough, her head ached and she thought that if she moved too fast she might just throw up. She had no memory of getting undressed. No memory of coming to bed. Shit, shit and double shit. What had she done?
She vaguely remembered smoking a joint in the garden, drinking like it was going out of fashion, and staggering up the stairs snogging – oh no—
‘Oh my God, Troy!’ She sat bolt upright on the bed. Had she really been snogging Troy? What on earth must she have been thinking? Well, that was the problem of course. Rational thought hadn’t come into anything. Otherwise she wouldn’t have ended up all over Lauren’s ex, who hitherto hadn’t impressed her in the slightest. Though she did vaguely recall an alcohol-hazed attraction.
And where on earth was Troy now? Please God nothing worse had happened.
Gingerly, she got out of bed, threw some clothes on, and went downstairs to see what carnage awaited her. ‘Urgh,’ she said, surveying the scene. The place looked hideous. There was something to be said for Richard’s methodical approach to life. He’d have had everything tidied in bin bags and put away the previous night, rather than be left with the fag ends, beer cans, spilt wine and empty crisp packets that greeted Kezzie. ‘Double urgh.’ Someone had left a whole can of Special Brew, another person hadn’t quite finished their vodka. It was too early in the morning to even think about alcohol, let alone smell the remains of someone’s leftovers. Someone was curled up in a sleeping bag under the dining room table. Someone rolled over and sat up. Oh my God, Troy. What was he still doing there?
‘Well, hi there, sexy,’ said Troy. ‘Why don’t you come and snuggle down with me?’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ said Kezzie.
‘You seemed so keen last night.’ Troy actually winked at her. Kezzie felt like she wanted to throw up.
‘Last night should never have happened,’ said Kezzie firmly, wishing she knew exactly what had happened.
‘And you and me were so good together,’ said Troy.
‘Oh my God we didn’t?’ Kezzie swallowed. She hadn’t felt so mortified since her student days, when she’d woken up after an all nighter next to the right-wing president of the Student Conservative Society.
‘No,’ admitted Troy, ‘sadly not. But not from want of trying. You know it’s not very good for a guy’s ego when his latest conquest collapses in a drunken heap on the bed.’
‘Sorry,’ said Kezzie, awkwardly. ‘Actually, what do I mean? I’m not sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on. I was drunk and I was stoned. Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have touched you with a bargepole.’
‘That’s flattering,’ said Troy.
‘But true,’ said Kezzie. ‘You. Me. It’s a car crash waiting to happen. But if it makes you feel better, it’s not you, it’s me.’
‘It never is,’ said Troy.
‘In this case, it really is,’ said Kezzie. ‘I’m not over my ex, and I’m a complete mess relationship-wise. You really would be better off without me.’
‘It’s OK,’ said Troy. ‘Spare me the remorse. I’m not that into you.’
Now it was her turn to feel deflated, and more embarrassed than she thought it was possible to be, Kezzie escaped into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea.
‘Hair of the dog?’ Gavin emerged from the lounge where he and Flick had kipped.
‘I think I might just throw up,’ said Kezzie.
‘What you need is a nice fry-up and some fresh air,’ announced Flick, who had followed him out, looking disgustingly chipper. ‘Is there are a decent café round here?’
‘There’s a good one on the High Street,’ said Kezzie. ‘Anything’s got to be better than clearing up this mess.’ She could almost hear Richard tut under his breath, and say You’ll only have to do it later.
‘Bugger off out of my head, Richard,’ she muttered. ‘It’s my life, not yours.’
Joel, too, awoke with a hangover. But unlike Kezzie, he didn’t have the luxury of sleeping it off. He was woken by a screaming Sam at 6 a.m. A late night hadn’t affected his internal alarm clock at all. Reluctantly Joel got himself out of bed, sorted Sam out, and then poured himself a cup of strong, black coffee. It was 7 a.m. and the day stretched ahead of him – one when he was also going to have to drive over to Chiverton to take his mum out for lunch. It was, Joel felt, going to be a very long day.
By nine o’clock, he and Sam were all played out, and Sam was clamouring for the park. So he got the buggy out, strapped Sam into it, and set off down the hill. He paused at the end of Lauren’s road, wondering if she’d welcome him coming round with another apology, and decided that would make matters worse, and more embarrassing all round. He was kicking himself for first, allowing himself to get drunk, and second, letting go of his inhibitions enough for him to have made a complete