Death. She felt like death. And ass. No, she smelt ass. Was it ass?
Her head heavy and thick, crawled into consciousness. Reluctantly. So, very, reluctantly.
She knew she wasn’t in her room. The mattress was much nicer, the pillow too soft.
As she hesitantly opened an eye, she was embraced into darkness. Glorious, curtain drawn
darkness. Thank Christ.
She felt like it was late. Late in the morning or late in the afternoon she wasn’t sure.
Just, late. It took a while to get going. And by a while, about an hour. She found her phone.
11am. Reasonable enough.
Two missed calls from Tom, one from another number she didn’t know. She put her phone
back down on the bedside table and fought the urge to go back to sleep.
For some beautiful reason, her one night stand had left her in peace, and she had every
intention of making her escape before she returned.
Yep, she definitely felt like ass. Stale, crap, ass. She was moving gently. So gently as to not
rock the pounding in her head. Oh god how much had she had to drink?
She remembered something vaguely about a bloke with a beard and her and Tom
standing in shopping trolleys-
“Jesus Christ!” She screamed as the front door slammed shut, hand holding her heart as
if to keep it in its place.
She had no words. Not even a language, as Natasha made her way into the kitchen.
She watched, dumbstruck. God, that jawline.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Natasha smiled that evil smile. Oh this could be so fun.
“This is my house.”
“Your house?” Yes, dumbstruck was the word.
Natasha smiled that shit eating grin.
“Don’t do that.”
“Smile like that, proud cause you’re keeping something to yourself.”
That did wipe the smile off her face, and Charlotte felt something that she couldn’t put her
Natasha started making a chicken salad, somewhat aimlessly. More as a distraction than
to satiate hunger. “So, you’re in my house.”
Charlotte nodded as she agreed. “I’m in your house.” She searched Natasha’s eyes for
something. Anything. Surely they didn’t sleep together?
After a couple of seconds of putting her through agony, Natasha relented. A little.
“Because you asked to stay here.”
In what world would have she asked to stay at Natasha’s? Asked!? Other than that day at
the coffee shop they hadn’t spoken to each other in 5 years. It was purely luck that her
number was the same, for she didn’t know anyone in her circle that would have had her
Natasha smirked that smirk of hers, and pulled out her phone. Charlotte skeptically pressed
play on the video that had been presented to her. She watched in abject horror, as well as
confusion. Documented proof that she had indeed asked to stay Natasha’s because she
couldn’t walk straight (or speak, apparently), and this video was to stand by as witness
that Natasha had in no way asked, encouraged or anything else for her to do so.
“That still doesn’t explain how I ended up here. I’m on your couch in that video.”
Just that simple? “I rang?”
Natasha ‘mmm-hmmed’ her and sat down at the kitchen bench, ready to start on her salad.
Charlotte watched her. Took her in properly. Or as best as she could in her current state.
She had definitely changed since they’d last been in each others lives. Not as cold as she
was in the coffee shop, but she was still, well...less cold.
“I rang and you...what?” Charlotte honestly had no idea. The last thing she could clearly,
kind of remember from the night before was standing in the shopping trolleys. She had no
idea where she was, other than Natasha’s house. Were they near the city? Close to her own
home? She rang and what, Natasha just came and picked her up?
Gave her her address?
“Does it matter?” she mumbled through her bite.
Yes it mattered. Mattered enormously. This woman, whom she hadn’t seen in five years,
was the person she rang when she was as drunk as she’d ever been? Whom had sworn she
had wanted to leave behind. In the past - very far away? Yes, it mattered!
“You’re really not going to tell me? Did we fuck?”
“Oh my God.”
Clearly a no. She took a seat on the couch, which really wasn’t a good idea because she
desperately wanted to her fold herself within its embrace and pass out. She stood back up.
“Okay well...” she ran her hand through her hair, and then proceed to rub her face, hard.
She needed clarity. She needed food. Dirty, greasy food. She gave her face one last rub, then
exhaled, trying to rid herself of some kind of weight that had developed in the last couple of
moments. “I’m going to go.” She locked eyes with the brunette across the room. Her face
had softened somewhat, and Charlotte almost thought she was going to say something.
When nothing was forthcoming, she thanked her and saw herself out.
She wasn’t too far from home. It was a half hour cab ride, which she’d split into two because
she really, really needed grease. She got out a McDonalds not too far off the main road, and
didn’t even care that she had started to practically salivate at the thought of a bacon and
She was halfway through her second McMuffin when her phone rang, and hesitated in
answering when she saw who was calling. Very tentatively, she managed a hello.
That damn voice.“You missing anything?”
“Uh, don’t think so.” She rummaged through her handbag half heartedly.
“No? You don’t want your keys?”
Natasha could imagine Charlotte holding her head in her hands.
“Where are you?”
Which she was. “What?”
“Where are you?”
Charlotte managed a disgruntled ‘Greenhill McDonalds.’