do you drive?’ I ask.
‘A Nissan Leaf – a blue one. It’s an electric car … why?’ he laughs.
Double crap. It wasn’t even him. Now I just seem like I really care about cars.
‘Sorry. It’s just that, when I arrived, I nearly had an accident with another car, and when I saw it in the car park, I left an angry note. I was worried it might have been your car.’
Pete laughs.
‘It sounds like you have a very eventful life, Luca.’
‘I really don’t.’
‘Well, maybe we can try this again tomorrow?’ he suggests.
‘That would be great.’
‘It will be nice to have someone to spend the day with, seeing as though we’re the sad, single friends.’
I playfully wince.
‘Too soon to make jokes like that?’ he asks.
‘Too real,’ I reply with a smile.
‘Sweet dreams, Luca,’ he says, leaving me alone in the bar.
I sigh. Wow. When I repeatedly turned down Matt and Kat’s offer of a plus one (not because I didn’t want one, but because I had no one to ask) I felt certain I’d be alone at this wedding and, look at me now, I’ve got a date.
I knock back the last of my drink before heading to my room.
They’ve given me a twin room – which I suspect is because they knew I’d be coming alone – but it’s a lovely big room with a stunning view of the hotel gardens. Even though it’s dark, I can see the marquee across the lawn, where I imagine the wedding reception will be held tomorrow.
Suddenly I don’t care about anything. I don’t care that I’m here alone, I don’t care that I’ve got a twin room because I’m oh-so very single, I don’t even care that I am single, or that I have a morally iffy job. All I can think about is Pete, and that kiss … and now I can’t wait until morning.
Then – 9th September 2008
‘What … the fuck … is this?’ Matt asks, staring down at his plate.
We’re all staring down at our plates. Clarky isn’t though, he’s gleefully slapping the bottom of a bottle of salad cream, dropping large blobs all over his dinner.
When he placed … whatever this is in front of me, I didn’t think it could get any worse, but the addition of salad cream makes it so, so much worse. I’m so relieved it is an optional extra.
‘What’s wrong with it?’ Clarky asks.
‘What’s right with it?’ Zach chimes in. His Glaswegian accent always sounds stronger when he’s confused or when he’s drunk. Today, I think he’s just confused.
Clarky looks genuinely baffled by our reaction. He stabs a little sausage meaningfully and pops it in his mouth.
‘Mmm, it’s great,’ he insists theatrically.
‘It’s weird,’ Fiona corrects him.
Clarky’s face falls at her remark.
‘It’s …’ I take stock of the contents of my plate. ‘It’s salad, baked beans with sausages, and fish fingers?’
‘Yeah,’ Clarky confirms. ‘Dig in.’
For our third year of uni, we decided that it would make more sense for our friendship group to rent one big house together, and not only has it worked out cheaper, but we’ve got this massive house, with loads of space for hanging out together and throwing parties. We only finished moving in four days ago, and thought it might be fun to take it in turns cooking for the house.
‘Just try it,’ Clarky insists.
Mark ‘Clarky’ Clarkson has been on the same course as me for two years now, and while I might have lots in common with the others, Clarky isn’t really someone I’m overly taken with. He’s one of those ‘lad lad lad’ types, always ogling girls, making sexist comments, thinking he’s way smarter than everyone else when really, he’s only getting through his BA by the skin of his teeth. Clarky is from Liverpool, and has a strong Scouse accent that can almost always be heard yelling at some video game or other. He isn’t very tall, but what he lacks in height, he more than makes up for in self-confidence.
‘Just because you say it’s a dish, doesn’t mean it is,’ Matt points out.
Before Clarky has a chance to reply, Ed arrives home.
Ed is the only housemate who isn’t studying media; he’s studying to be a doctor, and while we might all be around the same age, Ed feels like a real adult. He’s old beyond his years – he even looks older, but I think that’s because he dresses like a middle-aged man in addition to acting like one.
‘How’s the grind at the board game shop?’ Matt asks Ed the second he walks through the door.
‘Boring?’ Clarky suggests, cracking up at his own joke.
Ed works tirelessly to pay his way through uni. One day, when he’s a rich doctor, it will all have been worth it, and no one will be making fun of him because he spent a summer selling board games.
‘I’m starving,’ he says, sitting down. ‘You guys didn’t have to wait for me.’
‘We weren’t waiting for you,’ Matt laughs. ‘We were waiting for Clarky to explain what it is.’
Ed, who thinks he’s somewhat of a culinary expert, finally looks down at what we’re having. He just laughs.
‘Oh, I’m sorry we didn’t all bring cookbooks to uni with us,’ Clarky claps back.
I have to admit, I did find it a little bizarre that Ed moved in with no less than four cookbooks, but that’s just Ed.
‘I made a leg of lamb with all the trimmings,’ Ed reminds him.
He did, the night after I cooked, and it made my efforts seem as amateur as they were.
‘So … is it a salad?’ Fiona asks.
Fiona ‘Fifi’ Rees is our resident Welsh lady, and the only other girl living here. We made friends on the first day of uni and we’ve stayed friends ever since. We shared a flat together last year, before we decided to get somewhere bigger with the boys this year. I love Fifi because she’s just this bubbly, blonde, bright light that’s a real pleasure to be around. She’s the optimist that I need in my life, to stop me acting like everything is all doom and gloom. She’s got a will-they-won’t-they thing going on with Zach. I think we all wish they’d hurry up and get together, but Fifi isn’t convinced he’s all that into her, and
