Page 4 of Bad Friends

Paul raises his eyebrows and says nothing.

I notice a tall figure pushing through the crowds to make it towards us. Theo, our actor friend, says hello to both of us.

“God, this is shit,” he says. “Can’t we all grow up already?”

I laugh loudly and grab him around the shoulder to hug him. “Couldn’t agree more.”

Theo has lived in London for a while and I can see why he might think coming back home, just to hang out in this dive, is a little bit old news.

“Shall we do shots?” Paul says.

“Thought you’d never fucking ask,” Theo agrees.

As we’re on our way to the bar, we bump into Adam with his girlfriend, Susan. Theo’s face falls. He has a thing for Susan, even though she’s with Adam. It’s true Susan has the prettiest face of anyone I’ve ever met, but we’ve all wondered about her. She’s quiet and reserved. She’s buttoned up and a calming presence in Adam’s life, true. Theo and Adam are probably the closest out of all the blokes in terms of intelligence and sense of humour. Nobody can get between them, except it seems, Susan. Theo and Adam used to be joined at the hip until she came along. None of us see Adam very regularly anymore. He’s got his Susan.

“You alright, you two?” Theo booms but with an ache buried in his voice that only I recognise, because I’m the one he confided in about Susan.

She has to go and bloody lift her hand, displaying what appears to be a brand-new engagement ring. They’re both wearing the most stupid grins.

“Oh my god,” I scream, at the same time as Theo orders a tray of shots – as many as will fit on the bloody thing.

Hours later, we’re all back at Chloe’s mum’s. A single mum having brought up Chloe all on her own, Helen is just about the coolest person ever. Right now, she’s embracing the fact that a bunch of overgrown teenagers have invaded her house, put on loud music and filled her freezer with cans of beer.

Paul hasn’t left my side all night and I’m too drunk to ask why. Susan and Adam left ages ago and Theo has been on one ever since he found out his secret crush is marrying his best mate.

“What is up with Theo?” asks Paul, as we watch Theo play strip poker with some of the girls, though he’ll get beaten – always does.

“Been sworn to secrecy!” I declare.

There’s a whoop of celebration as some random guy drops his trousers and shows off his micro penis. No idea who he is. He’s not even playing strip poker. He doesn’t seem bothered that he has a tiny pecker. Good for him.

“Oh, you mean it’s true, then? We all thought he might be.”

I laugh nervously. “What do you mean?”

“He likes Susan!” Paul shouts above the music.

I feel myself go red. “Nobody is meant to know.”

“Oh, come on. He hasn’t shagged anyone in months.”

I shake my head and tip back some more tequila. “He’s way gone, Paul. Like waaaay gone. He kept me up all night once talking about it. I turned into a narcoleptic because of it.”

It was a few months ago, when me and Ian were first back in Leeds. Theo was in town and called me up, so we went out. A few drinks turned into many and a catch-up turned into a soul-baring session, at least on his part. Ian was out of the flat that night and I invited Theo back to ours because he seemed sad. He and I got talking and he told me he was into someone but couldn’t tell me who. He made me guess who it was until I ran out of guesses. Then he admitted it was Susan, of all people.

“Shit, poor lad. Maybe I should take him out for a beer.”

“Not worth it. He’ll get over it. Give him time. And yourself less earache.”

Paul laughs and we watch from the sofa as the partying descends into anarchy. Lots of clothes come off and drinks are spilt. Helen gets in on the action wearing just a pinny and her underwear. Chloe and Cole sneak off upstairs, having been necking in the armchair for the past hour – like something out of a wildlife documentary. We all survived Catholic school together – this is just a drop in the ocean. Besides, most of us won’t even remember it tomorrow. In fact, most of us will wake up in the morning with our faces planted in the carpet – then walk home in a stupor, eventually waking in our beds as if none of this ever happened.

“I’m just popping to the loo,” I tell Paul, grateful of my full bladder – it means I can escape Paul’s non-stop stare.

I wander between bodies in various stages of undress, covering my ears as I pass the sound system in the kitchen. At the back of the house is the downstairs toilet which is vacant, probably because everyone uses the upstairs – too cold down here at this time of year.

I sit on the loo and do my business in a hurry, happy to be off it quickly because of the cold toilet seat. I wash my hands and contemplate going back out there, but there’s no rush and no queue for this loo. I dry my hands on a threadbare towel and put the toilet seat down, sitting on my arse for a moment of reprieve.

Yes, I’ve always quite liked Paul. He’s tall which is good. Not that I’m height-ist, I’m not. Being tall myself, it’s always been a bit of an insecurity of mine and I always go for tall men. Ian is 6’3 and I suppose that was one of the first attractions – oh, and his sexy Irish mouth, and I guess, his long legs and the bulge in his jeans. He’s endowed, let’s say that. Pity it really is true what they say: it’s not what they’ve got, but what they do with it. Ian fucks me but doesn’t make love to me. I’m on the pill but he always wears condoms. I always tell him it’s because we need to be extra careful, but the truth is, I don’t trust him. I’ve asked him to get checked out numerous times in the past but he always says he’d know if there were anything wrong. I’ve always had this weird feeling that I’m the girl he enjoys living with because I’m young and servile and enjoy cleaning his living quarters – but maybe he has a more mature woman on the side, perhaps a lady who’s more sexually experienced and is into weird stuff.

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