The Last Word

by A. L. Michael

  Harry grinned. ‘Literary accessories, of course. New bag?’

  ‘Uh, duh.’ Tabby grinned, and then watched as the beautiful girl looked over at them exiting Harry’s office. ‘Try not to look surprised, OK?’ she said quietly, and took his hand.

  To his credit, Harry didn’t. He just squeezed her hand, and said, ‘An entire bottle of wine for you, lovely. And as much chocolate as you can fit into that smart mouth of yours.’

  Tabby grinned and tried her best not to shine in the light of his affection. And when they started talking about literary jewellery and reached the lift. Tabby realised they hadn’t looked back at the girl in the office, to see what effect they’d had. They were too busy laughing.

  ‘So?’ Tabby started, when they were settled at their table in The Black Cat, a bottle of red and a weary plate of nachos between them.

  ‘Please, angel face, let a guy get plastered before he has to talk about his feelings and stuff, yeah? Didn’t you write for Cosmo?’

  Tabby raised an eyebrow. ‘Yes, it was yet another article on how to impress men in bed. Except it was focused on stuff you didn’t actually have to expend any effort on, like “be alive” and “be female” and “try not to choke on your own spit”. I’m a right expert.’

  ‘All right, jeez, Tabs, give me a break, it’s…complicated.’

  Tabby just sat there. ‘So this is the game changer who made you lose yourself?’

  ‘Jenna.’

  ‘Jenna, right. So…?’

  There was a long pause where Harry seemed to gather his thoughts, and Tabby was slightly worried she was drinking her wine too quickly in order to do something. Harry automatically reached to refill her glass. She put her hand over the top of it. ‘Talk.’

  He frowned, as if he wasn’t sure where to begin, and her fingers longed to stroke his face and smooth away the sadness.

  ‘OK, so typical story, really. Boy meets girl who’s way out of his league, and falls madly in love. Girl knows boy is mad, and uses it to sleep around and do whatever and whomever she likes. Boy is so pathetic, so bloody pathetic,’ Harry paused and closed his eyes, breathing deeply, ‘that he doesn’t tell her to fuck off. He doesn’t even confront her about the cheating.’

  Tabby winced and put her hand on top of his. ‘What does he do?’

  ‘He proposes! Hoping, desperately hoping that a big shiny ring will stop her stomping all over his heart.’ He avoided her eyes, tapped the base of his wine glass, swirling the liquid around thoughtfully.

  ‘And did it?’

  ‘For a while. Making wedding plans really eats into a girl’s whoring time.’

  Harry paused again, and this time Tabby didn’t force him to continue. He just stared into the wine glass, while her hand rested in his.

  ‘Ever notice I don’t seem to have any friends?’ he said thoughtfully.

  Tabby went to disagree.

  ‘No, not really. It started with Jenna. Some of them got angry that I was being taken for a ride. Some of them took a ride themselves. My best mate was the last straw. As far as I know, they’re still together.’

  ‘Explains why you’re such a fan of keeping things casual,’ Tabby said. ‘Any idea why she’d be talking to Crane?’

  ‘He’s her uncle. That’s how I got this job in the first place. There you have it, not the Cambridge degree or the smart writing, just a pity job from my would-have-been uncle-in-law.’ Harry seemed to deflate once again.

  ‘Well, that and the fact that you’re the biggest pain-in-the-arse-editor ever and you fit into this pompous new media stylish world of expensive wine and overpriced cars,’ Tabby said good-naturedly, and grinned when Harry poked her.

  ‘You know what the answer to this is, though, right?’

  Harry looked directly into her eyes, both intrigued and somehow alarmed.

  ‘We get absolutely shitfaced, then we eat dodgy Chinese food, watch absolutely terrible TV and pass out.’

  Harry smiled. Not his usual blinding smile, but it was halfway there.

  ‘I pour my heart out to you, and this is what I get? You offer me booze.’ He laughed. ‘I may love you.’

  ‘You won’t say that when you’re blaming me for your hangover tomorrow!’ she sang, glad the pub was too dark for the blush on her cheeks to show. She stood up. ‘Another bottle, then?’

  He grabbed her hand. ‘Thanks Tabs, really.’

  ‘What else are friends for?’ She replied.

  Oh, I don’t know, meaningless drunken sex where you can both pass it off as a big drunken mistake and it won’t be embarrassing? Her brain was a bitch. And yet, the idea of a plastered Harry trying it on with her did not seem unappealing. Oh God, she wanted to take advantage of him! Here was her friend (who OK, yes, she kissed sometimes) trusting her with something he’d probably never told anyone, and she was calculating how to use it to get into his pants. She was a vile human being, she thought, and paid an extra fiver for a nicer bottle of wine to make up for it. If she had no soul, she might as well buy good wine.

  ***

  ‘Sorry, am I being too touchy feely? People say I’m too touchy feely.’

  Why Harry was shouting, she didn’t know, but he was quite comfy to snuggle up against in the booth at the club, and he was tracing gentle circles on her wrist, so she didn’t really mind. Not that she was going to admit that she was enjoying herself or anything.

  ‘I’ll let you know if you get out of line.’ She smiled up at him, leaning her head back. Oh, he had pretty eyes, flecks of brown in the green.

  ‘Hey.’ She poked him in the chest unsteadily. ‘Need food.’

  ‘Food!’ Harry exclaimed. ‘Yes, food! Food is important!’

  Tabby looked around desperately as if food might magically appear. But they were in a club with strobe lights and everything was loud and fizzy and bright.

  ‘They won’t have food here. Look at how skinny everyone is!’ She pointed rudely at a girl walking past, who looked over at her in disgust.

  Harry grabbed her finger. ‘No pointing, pointing bad.’

  Tabby huffed, ‘Feed me!’

  ‘OK. Night bus back to mine, order pizza?’

  ‘Yes!’ The Tabby who would have questioned how bad an idea it was to go back to Harry’s had disappeared somewhere around the third Sambuca shot. Urgh. ‘But I will need a pack of crisps or chips, or something to make it back to yours.’

  They wobbled into their coats and escaped into the night air, breathing deeply and clutching at each other to remain upright.

  ‘Ooh! Look at the stars!’ Tabby flung her head back so far she almost toppled over, but Harry had an unsteady hand around her waist.

  ‘Ha!’ He laughed in triumph. ‘I knew you’d be one of those drunks, amazed by everything. You little hippie.’

  ‘I am amazed! You’re still standing, and so am I. And I haven’t fainted from hunger!’ she whined.

  ‘Come on, grumpy, there’s a corner shop round here somewhere.’

  Somewhere that evening there was a night bus, a pizza and multiple pint glasses of water. There was a well-intentioned start to a film, but everything beyond that was hazy. A few simplistic sensations that made sense at the time would creep back into Tabby’s memory the next day: running her fingers through Harry’s hair as he rested his head in her lap, struggling to keep her eyes open as she changed into a pair of pyjamas and climbed into bed. The bed being warm and smelling like Harry. And then nothing.

  There was a moment, at about four in the morning, when she woke up to stumble to the bathroom, and then grab herself another glass of water, that she realised where she was. She was in Harry’s flat. And it was so very him. Well, it started out looking like a painfully pretentious Harry flat in Chalk Farm. And then you looked a bit closer – the vinyl records arranged alphabetically, and the piles of books in every corner – and it seemed a little more comforting.

  She stood in the kitchen, deciding whether to camp out on the sofa, as she probably should have done last night, o
r to slink back in with him and pretend she was still drunk. He was so warm. And there was no blanket on the sofa. Already, she was feeling the chill from the wooden floorboards, and she was wearing one of his T-shirts with a bathrobe. The fact that Harry even owned comfy clothing was rather a surprise. She was thankful, too, as she was pretty certain she couldn’t pull off that ‘wearing the guy’s shirt’ thing. Harry may have been toned, but he was still on the right side of lanky. And Tabby was a dab hand at trying to contain her boobs in shirts that were entirely too small for them. It was not an attractive look, no matter what Hollywood told you.

  ‘Oh, fuck it,’ she sighed, and padded back to bed. As soon as she slid back under the covers, Harry automatically reached for her, pulling her to him. His chest was warm across her back, and instead of feeling awkward, she sighed with the comfort of it all, snuggling deeper and falling asleep almost instantly.

  ***

  The first thing Tabby realised when she woke up again was that she shouldn’t have woken up. Her head was pounding, her skin felt greasy and her stomach was overwhelmingly delicate. She felt like absolute shit. The second thing she realised was that she was so comfortable it almost didn’t matter. Harry’s bed was like sleeping on a cloud. His arm was draped over her, warming her stomach, and his face was buried in her neck. Tabby took some time to savour the moment before he woke up and it got all weird and confusing, with the banter and pointless arguments and continual denial that she felt anything for him.

  He pulled her closer, and she let out a little sigh of satisfaction.

  ‘Good morning,’ he said into her neck. His voice was rougher and deeper. ‘This almost makes the hangover worth it.’

  ‘Not feeling so good?’

  ‘Like death, but surprisingly cheerful.’ He stroked his hands across her stomach. ‘You?’

  ‘Good. Too comfy, can’t move.’ She let her eyes droop a little, and wriggled, suddenly aware of how his body paralleled hers.

  She felt him still, and take a breath. ‘Then don’t. Stay for a while. This is…nice. Really nice.’

  Yeah, thought Tabby with irritation, it would have been nice if you’d jumped me last night when I would have had all the alcohol and none of the nervousness.

  ‘So?’ Harry nudged her shoulder with his nose. ‘You want to hang out today? Recover together?’

  She paused, because avoiding awkward situations was her primary goal. But after what he had said last night, about most of his friends deserting him, she felt…not obligated, but maybe like a small thing for her was a big thing for him. And as much as Tabby liked to pretend to be in control, she knew she couldn’t turn down a day with Harry in his natural habitat.

  ‘I know it’s not quite the real date we had planned…’ It was when he planted a kiss on her shoulder that she started to get nervous and suddenly felt her skin pulsing, her heart racing.

  ‘Are you kidding? The day spent nursing the hangover can almost be as fun as getting the hangover. I am an excellent recovery buddy.’ She sounded too chipper. Damn nerves. But he’d settled back into cuddling her, so she felt a little more together.

  ‘Oh really? Is there a nurse’s outfit involved in that scenario? Because I – ’

  ‘Harry?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Just enjoy the moment.’ She snuggled back down into his arms and felt his lips graze her neck. It seemed like she’d never be able to sleep, not with him so close, all around her. But within ten minutes she was asleep again, with a smile on her face.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘So, how do you normally recover?’ Tabby asked when she’d forced them both out of the bed.

  She wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about this whole ‘relaxed Harry’ situation. Sure, she liked kissing him. A lot. But the other thing…she’d never been very good at sex. Or at least, she gave herself a mini-pep talk, she’d never been interested in meaningless sex, and was never very attracted physically. She became attracted to a personality, and found physical appreciation through that. Which obviously made her a better class of human being. Or a snob attracted to men with power, according to Rhi. According to Chandra she was just like every other human being and scared of rejection. Tabby really didn’t want to dwell on how obvious that was to Harry.

  ‘Spend the day berating myself, drink a lot of coffee, fall asleep drooling in front of the TV and then do some work in the evening.’

  Tabby made a face.

  ‘Why, what do you do?’

  ‘Urgh, not that.’ Tabby smoothed down the pillows neatly, and restrained herself at the thought of how normal it seemed. She was making a bed with Harry. After sleeping in it, with Harry. Of course, why not? Then she told her brain to shut the hell up before it got her in trouble. ‘You obviously don’t know how to relax.’

  Harry considered it for a moment, scratching behind his ear. He was wearing a baggy black T-shirt and Batman pyjama bottoms that Tabby hadn’t even made fun of him for yet, and still looked painfully gorgeous. His hair was ruffled, his eyes were puffy and he was probably on the wrong side of ‘purposeful stubble’. Tabby tried not to look at him too much, in case the thumping in her chest and the disbelief that he would ever even consider her flowered up again.

  ‘Guess not, it’s usually a cycle of being busy and being asleep.’ He grinned and his voice dipped in a way that made Tabby’s stomach twitch. ‘Are you going to teach me to be lazy, Tabs?’

  ‘You’re an overachiever,’ she said lightly, glad there was an entire bed between them. ‘I’m sure you’ll take to it in no time. Can I use your shower?’

  She was relieved to find that although his shower was crazily futuristic and had all sorts of pressure settings, it worked. Compared to the one at home, where you had to run it for thirty seconds on freezing, then ten seconds on scorching in order to get it to settle at a medium temperature for ten minutes, and then start all over again. Maybe she could get used the ‘money is important’ way of thinking. She was appeased to find he had Primark towels and the toothbrush holder screwed into the wall declared it was IKEA. He was normal, after all.

  She savoured the hot water, scrubbing at her skin until she felt properly clean and halfway human. She tried not to think about the fact that he had been naked in the very same place she was now naked. The bathrobe on the back of the door was designer, but she ignored it.

  Tabby pulled on her clothes from the night before: a long pair of black leggings and thick purple socks, and a blue print dress. Luckily, it was one of those stretchy comfortable ones, instead of the corseted monstrosity she’d been considering. Not that she’d thought through what would be better morning-after wear or anything. She grabbed the hoodie Harry had been wearing the night before, and pulled it on. There was no point to a hangover day if you weren’t comfy and warm. She towel-dried her hair as best she could, and then tied it into two short pigtails. She knew it would kink it terribly later, but it was the only way to keep it off her neck without drying it. And hairdryers are loud and painful. There was method to almost everything she did, Tabby thought with a sense of surprise and pride.

  She padded back into the kitchen, where Harry was making tea. He smiled when he saw her.

  ‘You look…’

  ‘A mess, I know. No make-up, nothing – ’

  ‘Cute.’ He handed her a lime green mug. ‘I was going to say cute.’ He flicked a pigtail as he left the kitchen. ‘I’ll jump in the shower and then we can commence our day of fun, I left some painkillers on the side for you.’

  Tabby explored the kitchen, ran her hands across the rich wooden work surfaces, tapped the blue tiles. The light outside was grey, but promising enough. She scanned quickly for supplies, made a mental list, and grabbed Harry’s keys from the bowl he’d thrown them in the night before. She found her debit card in her Oyster-card holder, and stuck it into the hoodie pocket.

  Standing outside Harry’s door, Tabby quickly retraced their steps and found the corner shop, which, judging by the knowing smile of t
he guy behind the counter, they had stopped into last night. Not for more wine, surely? She did, however, distinctly remember their conversation about whether Monster Munch was a better choice than Hula Hoops. Why couldn’t the moron have made a move then? It could have been a drunken, unexpected, easily forgotten shag where she could get him out of her system and not feel so…out of control. Did it mean something, that they’d been drunkenly clinging to each other all night, and neither of them had made a move? They hadn’t even kissed. And they did that sober.

  Tabby frowned and vowed to forget about it. Then spent a few seconds thinking about how Harry was in the shower at that very moment. Stupid brain. She grabbed a few choice items, half abashed and half proud that she was such an expert at this, and headed to the counter.

  ‘Have a good night?’

  ‘Good enough.’ Tabby smiled tightly, and paid. Some random stranger was not going to ruin this. It was just two friends hanging out. She was allowed to go out with a friend and stay over at his and have a cuddle and have it mean nothing. She’d had friends like that. Most of them were female or gay, or pretending it was nothing so that they could eventually get more from her, but still. It was no one else’s business, that was the point. And she wasn’t going to freak out about the opinion of some random person. Nope. Not happening.

  Tabby wandered back to Harry’s, noticing much more clearly how the area wasn’t that different from hers, except that the buildings were cleaner and prettier, that there was a little more greenery, fewer launderettes and more green grocers and decent pubs. One day, she was going to live somewhere like this, somewhere pretty.

  When she returned, Harry was standing in the living room in a towel, holding her phone.

  ‘Thought you must have done a runner.’ He shrugged and smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  ‘You should have known I wouldn’t be able to stay away, your charm draws me in, darling,’ she said in an affected, dramatic voice, searching for a way to make it back to that banter that always came so easily.

  ‘Let’s not…be like that here,’ Harry said cryptically.