Page 71 of Pride

He stayed outside for quite a while, and it was only when I heard him retreating, and the sound of his own bedroom door closing, that I eventually closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

But as I slept, the dreams I hoped would come soon turned into nightmares of murder, blue boiler suits, and red words painted with blood promising death everywhere I looked. I woke with a start, sitting up in the bed, sweat slick on my body, and I prayed I hadn’t cried out loud in my sleep. I didn’t want anyone to know I’d had a nightmare. Especially Alex.

Instantly, I reached for the bedside lamp to switch it on. Light filled the room, and I lay back on the damp pillow, feeling relief that everything was okay. There was no one here. I was safe.

That night, I slept with the light on.

The next morning,I was woken by the sound of my phone ringing. I sat up, turning the lamp off before reaching for my bag and pulling my phone out. And there, on the screen, was Gracie’s name.

“Where the hell have you been?” I answered, cutting right to the chase.

“Em, I’m so sorry,” she gasped down the phone. “I meant to tell you I was away on a team building thing for a few nights. The wifi out there was non-existent. What can I say? I’m the worst friend ever.”

I wanted to tell her that yes, she was shitty for not telling me, but I couldn’t.

“You’re not the worst,” I replied. “Not the best right now, but you’ll probably climb back up there after this phone call.”

She gave a throaty laugh, and then said, “Congratulations, by the way. It was about time you told that fucking pig to stick his job where the sun doesn’t shine. And is everything okay? I got a few messages to say you weren’t feeling well. Shall I come over?”

“No,” I jumped in. I didn’t have the energy to explain what’d happened over the phone, but I didn’t want her turning up at my door to find out I wasn’t there. “I’m okay. I just had a few days of feeling sick, but it’s passed now. I’m fine. No need to come and check on me.”

“I feel dreadful for not being there. I wish my bloody phone had been working.”

“Don’t worry. It couldn’t be helped. You had no wifi,” I assured her.

“Any news on your artistic stalker?” she asked.

“It’s over. He won’t be bothering me again.”

“Really? What happened?”

“He just stopped.”

“What, just like that? How do you know he’s stopped?”

I had to think on my feet and come up with something that sounded plausible without telling her the truth.

“Because he left me a message to say it was over.” I lied.

I didn’t want to dissect it further, so I tried to distract her by asking, “Anyway, what’s happening with you?” Surprisingly, it worked.

“Mate, I had the strangest night, last night. I went on a date with this guy. He was so fucking hot, Em. He was wearing a suit, definitely designer, but he still had an edge, you know? I could see his tattoos underneath his collar and best of all, he had hand tattoos. You know I’m a sucker for those.”

“Aren’t we all,” I mused, thinking of Alex’s and sighing.

“Anyway, the date was going amazingly. He had crazy eye contact, asked me questions about myself and actually listened to what I said. He was interested. I was too. Em, I really thought this could go somewhere.”

“So what went wrong? Did his mum ring in the middle of dinner?”

“Worse,” she replied. “I got up to go to the bathroom. When I came out, some random waiter told me there was a fire drill and dragged me through the kitchens to the back of the restaurant, where no one else was, by the way. Then after moaning at him to let me back in, he finally did, and when I got to the table, he’d gone.”

“Gone?”

“Yes. Just disappeared. Left a pile of cash in the middle of the table with a note on top that said, ‘You’ve had a lucky escape. Thank me later.’ That was it. I mean, what the fuck, Em. What was that all about?”

“I have no idea, but maybe he was right. Maybe you did have a lucky escape. You don’t need to be dating a guy who can bail on you like that.”

I heard her heavy sigh.