Oh God, I want to curl up and die! I’m fairly sure getting it on with one of his band friends is not the way to his heart.
‘Oh, right,’ Luke replies. ‘Well, I’m going to get to bed. Night, mate,’ he says giving Mark a pat on the shoulder. And then he looks at me. His eyes look so red and tired. ‘Night, Nicole,’ he says, walking off towards the bunks without waiting for a reply.
‘Night,’ I call after him, but it’s too late. I’ve really blown it this time. All I want to do is get in my bunk and pray that everything will be OK in the morning when we’re all sober. What happened with Mark was nothing really, a few seconds of madness, or was it minutes? I have no idea.
Mark stands up and, presuming he’s going to his bunk, I stand up too. He puts his hand on my shoulder and pushes me back down.
‘I’m going for a piss, don’t go to sleep. I’ll be back in a minute. We’ve got unfinished business.’
He walks off towards the toilet. Now I really do feel sick. There’s isn’t even a hint of sexiness in his request and I don’t even want to be near him, let alone anything else. So I do what any girl would do in my situation, I fake it. I lie down on the sofa, shut my eyes and pretend to be asleep. I hear him come back and loudly whisper my name a couple of times to try and wake me, but I keep my eyes tightly closed and eventually he gives up and goes off to his bunk. Too scared to move in case he hears me, I pretend to be asleep on the uncomfortable sofa until tiredness takes over and I fall asleep for real.
The Morning After the Night Before
Oh my God, I feel terrible. I’ve got such a headache and I’m too scared to open my eyes properly in case the light makes it worse. The events of last night are bouncing around in my head, which is probably contributing towards my headache. How could I have been so stupid? Mark might have masterminded a pretty decent plan to get me alone, but I didn’t have to go along with it. Yes, I was drunk enough to get caught up in things, but unfortunately I wasn’t quite drunk enough to forget what happened. But nothing did happen really, did it? It was just a silly kiss. I kiss people all the time – although, not everyone I kiss tries to remove my underwear in the street.
I open my eyes ever so slowly and stare at the ceiling for a second, giving them chance to adjust. The bus is silent so I assume everyone else is asleep. Rolling onto my side I see that Luke is sitting on the opposite side of the sofa, in the exact same place he was last night. He’s staring at me and his face is totally expressionless. I must look terrible, not only did I have such an awkward, uncomfortable night but I didn’t take my make-up off and you can guarantee my post-club hair will be a frizzy mess.
‘Good morning,’ I say weakly.
‘Hello,’ he replies. ‘Rough night?’
‘Something like that...what time is it?’
‘8 a.m. Want to go get a coffee?’ he asks in an unusually blunt manner.
‘Yeah, sure. I’ll just smarten myself up,’ I reply shyly. I really didn’t want him to see me like this.
‘OK. I’m going outside for a smoke, I’ll see you in a minute.’ And with that, he’s gone.
As I slowly sit up, I take in my surroundings. The living area is just as messy as I am. Empty cans and bottles are littered all over the place, there’s the odd junk food wrapper and cigarette packets scattered around and I am being over powered by two smells – Lynx and sweat. Unfortunately the latter scent is the stronger one.
Grabbing my bag, I make my way to the tiny bus toilet. It’s impossible not to feel claustrophobic in these bathrooms, there’s barely enough standing room for one person. The small space consists of a toilet, a small sink and a shower head, none of which are very easy to use, even when the bus is stationary. I catch sight of myself in the dirty mirror and, just as I suspected, I have make-up all over my face and a hairstyle that would be more at home in the 80s. Thankfully my face wipes are in the bag that I actually remembered, although unfortunately I don’t have a hairbrush or any clean clothes with me.
Winding my long blonde hair into a bun on the top of my head, I begin wiping off my make-up – only to start reapplying it seconds later. With my hair looking crap, I make the decision to wear even more make-up to compensate. Standing back to take in my appearance in the tiny mirror, I can only conclude that I look like a groupie. My hair is messed up, my make-up is over the top and I’m still wearing my gig outfit – or maybe I just feel like a groupie after last night.
I am distracted from my thoughts by a noise from my phone. Taking it out of my bag I realise it is the low battery alert and guess what? I packed my charger in the bag I left at home. Now I’m feeling seriously out of my comfort zone. I’m horribly hungover, I look a complete state, I’m going to have to face both Mark and Luke today and to top it all off my only form of contact with the ‘real world’ will be cut off when my phone dies, which I’m guessing is going to be sooner rather than later.
As I leave the bathroom and make my way past the bunks, I can hear girls giggling, but I don’t remember seeing any girls last night when we left the club. Maybe they found their way on to the bus while Mark and I made our detour.
As I pass Eddie’s bunk, a girl climbs out and, looking at the state of her, I start to feel slightly better about the way I look this morning. She is definitely still drunk, her clothes are hanging off and she’s looking at me like I’ve just fallen out of a tree. She actually looks like she has just fallen out of a tree.
‘Becky,’ she calls, looking at me but failing to acknowledge the fact that I am standing there and that she is blocking my path. Becky sticks her head out of the bottom bunk which, as far as I remember, is Ben’s bunk, but he must be in one of the spares because, as we all know, Ben has a girlfriend and he doesn’t stop texting her for long enough to even talk to another girl. Becky looks equally as rough as her friend so I’m quite happy to walk off the bus after them, they can only make me look better. Neither girl speaks to me until we get to the bus door, which neither of them can work out how to open.
‘How the fuck does this open?’ Becky asks me politely. I don’t say anything, I just reach forward and open the door. Becky and her friend fall about laughing and hop off the bus. As they walk past Luke, they both say ‘Bye, Luke’ in unison, laughing hysterically as they stagger off.
‘Bye, girls,’ he says and then turns towards me. ‘They weren’t with me you know.’
‘No judgement from me,’ I tell him, holding up my hands. I’m hardly in a position to say anything, am I? Feeling self-conscious, I let my hair down. Knots or no knots, my long hair is like my safety blanket. You don’t find many girls with real long hair these days, just cheap-looking hair extensions. It’s got to a point where people come up to me to ask me where I purchased such realistic fake hair, and I always tell them my little-known but very simple hair tip: if you don’t get your hair cut, it will grow. Magic, isn’t it?
‘You know I care what you think,’ he says, throwing the end of his cigarette on the floor and stamping it out. ‘Shall we go get that coffee?’
I nod and follow his lead. I love Manchester, but with my rubbish sense of direction I find it impossible to find my way around, and it doesn’t matter how many times I visit.
‘Cold, isn’t it?’ I say in an attempt to break the silence with small talk.
‘It
