Chapter Text
You had definitely fucked up this time.
The stranger next to you proved that. Foreign sheets rested over the strangers body, hiding him from your view.
Through pearly eyes you observed your surroundings; the room was small and bare, with only an old dresser sat slanted by the window and a bedside table against the wall, a broad back shielded you from the dis-coloured yellow wall. Oh God. You had slept with a stranger. You were in a stranger's bed. You had fucked a random dude from the club and left your friends.
You groaned in despair, folding yourself into an upright position. His face was hidden, chunky side burns and tan skin was all you could see.
He turned on his back, your breath hitched.
No.
No god please no.
Maybe, just maybe you had fucked up more than you had originally thought.
You knew that face and by god you knew this wasn’t good. You’d just made your life so much more complicated. You needed to get out of here, right now; you tumbled out of bed and crept to the door, wincing as the floorboards creaked under your weight.
“I didn’t know you were such a screamer Y/n" a tired voice called behind you.
A small shriek escaped your lips, you were caught.
“Leaving so soon? I’m assuming you don’t want round 3?” He laughed.
You spun round, your gaze met with of his, a playful grin adorned his face. Your face flushed at the sight of him, red lipstick smeared around his mouth and neck.
“Tim” You rolled your eyes, a frown plastered on your lips “Fuck off”. Tim’s grin never faded, his eyes fixated on you. It had come to your attention that you were naked, vulnerable, completely on show. The urge to hide your chest burned, yet there was a part of you that felt weak if you did.
With a groan, you left his persistent stare in the bedroom, now it was your mission to find you’re clothes in the messy apartment that Tim called home. You had never actually been inside before but the layers of dishes in the small kitchen sink and the plethora of boxer piles on the living room floor were of no surprise. For the 3 month he’d been living in the complex, never once did he strike you as a man who cared for hygiene and cleanliness. The worn flannels and tattered stained jeans backed up that hypothesis.
Your dress was the first thing you spotted, its glittery fabric glimmering as the sun shone through the blinds, however, the rest of your things seemed to camouflage amongst the mess. It seemed that your lingerie was a lost cause, the choice of matching black bra and panties now seemed like a poor decision. And where the hell were your shoes? Maybe you’d have more luck with your jacket, it can’t be that hard to find a f/c corduroy bomber, right?
"Such a shame" Timothy said, leaning against the door frame coyly, chest and dick on show. Was he always that muscular?
"What's a shame?" You ask whilst sliding back into your dress.
"Hiding that body of yours" he winks and licks his lips.
Your face twisted in disgust. Why did you sleep with this man?
Twice. Your brain reminded you.
He walked by you, a wide trail of purple hickeys caught your eye, how could they not? They covered most of his neck with their dark bruising of popped veins. Admittedly, you couldn’t help but feel smug, they weren’t going anytime soon, the thought alone brought a smile to your face. Tim bent over the couch, giving you a clear view of his ass covered in long red lines, a rustle of fabric and he was up again, his back too, were covered in the same red lines. Wow, you really did a number on him. The question now was; if you did that to him… what did he do to you?
A rush of f/c obstructed your view, like the gentlemen he was, he’d thrown your jacket in your face. Delightful. You shouldered past him, and clambered into your jacket hoping to hide yourself from Tim’s creepy ogling. Your hand touched the door handle, daring to leave.
"Aren’t you forgetting something?" You turned, his smug grin lighting your face on fire. Did he really have to torture you like this!
Your phone swung loosely in his fingers, you stare horror stricken at the idea of your phone falling from his gasp.
"Give it back!" You gasped.
He laughed, "Fuck, that’s a lot of messages. Who’s Holly? She seems quite mad at you “
No. God she can’t know.
“Can I have my phone back… please “ You slowly hissed, hand outstretched.
With an infuriating eye roll Tim chucked the phone at you, honestly, it was impressive that you even caught as it spiraled through the air.
“You’re no fun Y/n” he pouted.
You opened the door and with a grin said, “That’s not what you thought last night” and left, closing the door with a derisive bang.
The hallway outside of Tim’s apartment was haunting, the carpet and walls were dated with old brown carpets and peeling yellow wallpaper, the printed flowers had been scuffed and faded from the years of neglect. Across from you was a door, the handle bruised and the wood warped. Familiar gold numbers sat slanted on stained oak, ‘14’. Home sweet home…
A sparkle caught your eye as you carried yourself to your apartment, your glittery heels lay discarded in the middle of the hall. So that’s where you left them. You picked them up with a grunt, your head burned from the quick action.
Your chest heaved as you inhaled deeply, relieved to be away from Tim’s persistent stare. The relief didn’t last long, thoughts of Holly flooded your mind; how could you be so selfish that you’d do that to your friend? New messages flicked your phone screen on, the dim light made the series of notifications hard to see, the only thing illuminated were the mocking digits that read 13:40. Fuck. You were late.
Your Dad would be pissed. The last thing you wanted to deal with now was your Dad and his girlfriend pissed off from his daughter being 2 hours late to their ‘weekly’ brunch.
Keys jangled in your jacket pocket, thankfully they had survived the club and Tim’s rank apartment. You rammed the key into the hole, turning it and banging your body against the door to push the warped wood out of the frame.
You tumbled into your apartment and slammed the door shut behind you. Chucking your shoes into the wicker basket next to you.
“Finally home then” your Dad sat cross legged on your couch, face twisted in anger. His girlfriend was snuggled up next to him like they were on their honeymoon. But they weren’t. They had invited themselves into your home. They had no fucking right. No right to be here; to act like they’re in love; to judge you.
“Didn’t think to mention that you were running late?” Your Dad asked, he put his arm around her and pulled her close.
You ignored him.
“Y/n” his voice bellowed behind you.
“Can you let me get changed first" you asked defeated. You knew what was about to happen.
His eyes narrowed, "I thought you’d be more responsible, that was the agreement, remember? You start acting responsible for your own life and you get to move out for Uni. Right now, I don’t see a responsible young woman."
Does he keep having to use the word, ‘responsible'. Ahaha, the irony.
"I was staying over at a friends, I wouldn’t say that’s irresponsible" you don’t have to tell him the whole truth, that would be a whole other lecture. You could see the teeth grit against each other. You’re so screwed.
"You weren’t responsible. Responsible would be messaging us that you were running late. Responsible would be setting an alarm so you wouldn’t be late in the first place!" He was getting quite angry now.
She had moved, now detached from your dads side to stand by your window, fingers twisted in the course fabric of the cheap curtain, her teeth bared in disgust at them. "Dear…" She started, "Y/n is obviously tired, maybe leave this for another day. After all, the last thing she needs is her Dad witnessing her walk of shame", her lips twisted in a vicious smile.
What. A. Bitch.
Your Dads eyes widened, "Is this true Y/n?"
Before you could say anything, She dug your grave further, "Well, Dylan just look at her unbrushed hair, crumpled clothes. Not to mention the absolutely ruined makeup. But most of all; her neck! It looks like she fought off a beast… Or embraced it." She winked at you.
Shit, Tim did leave a mark.
"Y/n! How could you! That's it! I’ve had enough of your antics-“ however, he was cut off.
"Dylan, leave this argument for another time. We're all hungry. After all, we haven’t even ate yet… because of missing brunch"
She really does hate you.
Your Dad took a deep breath and said through a bitten tongue, "I believe that’s 'little miss responsible's fault".
Oh that hurt.
You turned and yelled, “I'm sorry! Why are you here?".
He was taken aback, but like a switch was flipped, he became ENRAGED.
“You were supposed to meet us at 11:40! You gave us no choice but to come here! You’re so fucking selfish. We do everything for you and what are the thanks we get!”
You festered in anger and bit your tongue. Don’t scream back. Calm yourself.
“I was selfish” you hissed out, “Yes, we were supposed to meet at 11:40. But you did not have to enter my home without my permission” you could see your Dad about to burst but you continued, refusing to back down, “And yes, you do a lot for me and I appreciate that, but you do a lot. Not her. Do not dare say she does anything for me”.
That was his breaking point. He launched out of his seat.
“Her? She has a name Y/n! Elizabeth. Her name is Elizabeth. And Elizabeth is the reason we even get to see you. She is the reason we have Friday brunch!”
“Yeah because brunch every Friday is such a great thing, the awkward silence. Elizabeth climbing all over you. It’s fucking disgusting. I fucking hate brunch!”
Your Dad stormed to you, face a blazing red. “Take that back Y/n!”.
“No” you said, “I want you both out of my apartment by the time I get back”.
You picked up a pair of shoes and forced open the door.
“Don’t forget who’s place this really is!” He screamed.
“It’s Granny’s and don’t you forget who she left it to in her will. You weren’t even there for it’s reading, too busy creating a new family with Elizabeth” you mocked.
You left them both in your apartment. Your dad fuming to high heavens and Elizabeth unfazed by the argument, she didn’t care and she never fucking would. No point wasting your time being nice when she would just be lying to your face the two-faced bitch.
You’d seen her long before she met your Dad. Seducing professors to get better grades, leading on all the boys at campus, the clubs and drunken disorderly. She was well known in the university, the senior who fucked her way through the school. Your Dad would believe it to only be a story, something the girls would say because they were jealous of her success. Your Dad was a fool blinded by a young pretty girl.
She had ruined your relationship with your dad. You’d never forgive her for that.
—
The autumn air clung to your body, pushing you with every step you took. To think last night was warm and calm, the perfect time for a short clubbing dress. It was probably a mistake to be the one who left, it was your home after all, but the idea of a further argument stopped you from asserting your claim on the property. Your stomach grumbled, your body demanded the food that you had deprived it from for hours and hours.
Even in the old neighbourhood there were hidden café gems littered in every corner, hell, even a Starbucks had opened fifteen minutes away from you as your small dumpy section of the city was starting to get up-marketed. Your Gran would have a field day if she saw a huge franchise open up in her neighbourhood, especially if she knew it was a 24 hour Starbucks. ‘Who’d need coffee in the middle of the night? Hooligan's I say!’.
Reluctantly you chose the furthest away café. You definitely didn’t need another confrontation with your Dad. You sat yourself down at the furthest away table when you arrived at ‘Honeycomb Delight’.
Left alone with your thoughts and your phone was torture, not even your lunch could distract you as you read and reread the texts from last night. A sinking feeling stuck in your gut, it would not relinquish its hold on you; the dread; the anxiety; the guilt.
It had hit you. They hadn’t seen you. No one knew you had slept with Timothy Wright. Your rude neighbour. The University’s known slack off. Holly’s ‘ex’.
Your phone alarm went off. Fuck, you need to take the your pill when you get back. The last thing you need right now was an unplanned pregnancy with one of the worst people you’ve had the displeasure of meeting.
You gazed around the café, the familiar pastel walls brought a feeling of forlorn. All the staff had greeted you, confused as to why you were alone. It was a strange sight. This was your special place with Holly. Ever since you were teens you’d take your pocket money and spend a quiet Sunday escaping your Mother’s relentless worshiping of all things God. They’d both avoid the ‘Honeycomb Delight’, saying only unbelievers worked Sundays; the Lord's day. It truly had been a surprise when they avoided the place like a plague, like they would lose their faith if they were near those with different beliefs. They always had such old fashioned views.
It was hard to remember your Mother. What she’d been like before the incident, she’d changed, you could barely recall her sweet nature and warm hugs. Holly was the only one who helped you through those times. It was mutual. A quid pro quo relationship.
For so many years she was your best friend. What had changed? Your Mum was dead. Found in the woods, the police unsure of the cause. You remember very little from that day, the messy tears, your Dad's stoic expression and Holly reaction; 'You’re lucky, I wish my Mum was dead too'. It had been five years since her death and every now and again Holly will whisper under her breath to you the exact same thing:
'You’re lucky, I wish my Mum was dead too'