right, Magic Psych,’ I cackle. ‘Calm down.’
Jack throws his head back as he laughs.
‘What is it with the stripper comments?’ he asks. ‘And where is your accent from?’
‘Lancashire,’ I tell him. ‘It’s in the north. And if I seem more numb than I did earlier, it’s because of this.’
I give the empty bottle of champagne a little shake.
‘Yes, I do seem to be caring less about being unemployed,’ he reasons. ‘I guess we should keep drinking then, right?’
‘What else have we got to lose?’ I reply.
I wake up suddenly, gasping for breath, but the thumping in my head is too overpowering for me to move.
I open my eyes slowly, one then the other. My hotel-room blinds are open and it feels like the harsh light of morning is dissolving my eyeballs.
My head feels like it’s full, but my memory of last night is almost completely empty. I remember bumping into Jack in the bar, I remember going to dinner with him, and then I remember us deciding to go out and drown our sorrows and… not much else. Oh God, tell me I haven’t had rebound sex with Jack. I’m almost too scared to roll over and check.
The fact I’m in my hotel room is some relief and the reason breathing is so uncomfortable right now is because I not only slept in an underwired bra, but my dress is still on.
I listen carefully, for snoring, breathing or any sign of life coming from the other side of the bed. I just need to roll over and check, but I don’t want to deal with the consequences. Right now, it’s Schrödinger’s one-night stand – if I don’t roll over and see him there, it never happened.
I’m usually so quiet and sensible – some might even say boring since I met John a few years ago. A crazy night for me involves binge-watching more than six episodes in a row of something on Netflix. The height of my wild behaviour involves trying a new topping on my pizza. The only thing unpredictable about me is my menstrual cycle. How have I got myself into this mess? Why did I get so drunk last night? What did I do last night?!
Thinking hard only makes my headache worse, and trying to remember isn’t going to change the facts. I just need to get him out of here.
I roll over slowly, so as not to provoke the bear who is currently living in my head and pawing and heaving at the inside of my skull. But there’s no one there. I’m in bed, alone, fully dressed. Well, of course I am. I don’t know what I was thinking. Jack is so far out of my league, why would he want to sleep with me? A single, cheated-on, skint loser who doesn’t even have the courage to tell her family how bad her life is. They might think I’m living it up in LA with my successful fiancé, but Jack knows the truth, and that’s why he didn’t come back to my room with me.
It’s better this way. Now I don’t need to worry about getting him out of here and getting to the airport before… shit! My flight!
I grab my phone off charge and check the time. I’m officially running late, but not so late I’ll miss it. Thank God I woke up when I did.
I grab my things and stuff them into my suitcase, rushing around the room to make sure I’ve got everything. I might have left behind all the boring clothes John used to suggest I wore, but my mountain of cheap alternatives is taking a lot of cramming in. What I need is someone to sit on the case while I zip it – just another downside to being single.
After packing up, heading out, racing to the airport and checking in, I was actually just about on time for my flight. Now I’m panicking about something else…
With some time to spare, I popped into a coffee shop to grab a drink, but when I tried to pay, my card was declined. While I’ve been with John, because he’s actively encouraged me not to work so I could travel to gigs with him and hang out with him during the day, he’s been a large part of my financial support. Not long after I walked out on him, I destroyed the card for his account – something I deeply regret because it would have saved me the embarrassment of not being able to pay for my coffee. The clothes I bought for the trip didn’t cost much at all – my hair was the most expensive part of my transformation, but even after that I should have had about $800 left, which is definitely enough money for a drink, even in an airport.
So now I’m sitting on the plane, stressing out, and waiting for it to take off – except it isn’t, because they just made an announcement calling for one last passenger. You can bet that, if it were me who was late, they would have left without me. Instead, whoever this person is has all the luck because we’re not going anywhere until they arrive.
I can’t understand why my bank account is empty. I definitely had money left in there, and it’s my own account so no one else has access to it. I wish I’d taken the time to set up online banking so I could look into my account.
Once I land, what am I going to do for money? Things are just getting worse and worse, and the empty seat next to me is serving as a constant reminder of exactly how empty my life is right now.
‘Our final passenger is on his way, so we’ll be taking off shortly,’ a bubbly blonde air hostess assures us all.
Suddenly, I’m in no rush. As soon as we take off, I’ve got a little over fourteen hours to figure out what I’m going to tell people.
My head is banging. I need some caffeine or some painkillers or… hair of the dog, maybe?
The late passenger must finally be onboard, because there’s a huge roar of applause from the other passengers. My poor, poor head cannot take this right now. Leaning forwards, I rest my head on the seat in front of me and massage my temples.
Just as I dare to wonder whether or not I’ll be able to sleep for part of the flight (probably impossible with my mind racing like this), I feel someone plonk down in the seat next to me. This isn’t fair. The seat next to me is supposed to be empty – I booked it for John, unless…
‘Jack?’ I ask pointlessly, as though I need confirmation it’s really him. I’m just so surprised to see him here.
‘Quick, we need to get off the plane,’ he insists, just as the ‘fasten your seatbelt’ sign comes on and the captain begins his announcement.
‘We can’t, it’s about to take off,’ I tell him.
‘Well, they can just open the doors quickly and let us off – I can’t believe you were just going to leave like this.’
The cool, calm, charming Jack from last night is nowhere to be seen. This Jack is panicked and intense.
‘Look, erm,’ I wrack my brains for the right words – I’m not exactly rejecting guys on a daily basis. ‘I’m flattered and everything. You’re an attractive guy, but I’ve just come out of a relationship and, let’s be honest, you’re way hotter than I am, you can do way better than me.’
Oh God, I’m babbling. And Jack is just looking increasingly confused.
‘What?
