Bagging Alice (Standalone) (Babes of Brighton Book 3)

by Laura Barnard

  ‘Wanna bet?’ I ask, acting far cockier than I feel.

  ‘I’d defo put a wager on that,’ Nicholas nods, ‘but I don’t want you to lose your money.’

  ‘I was just thinking the same about you,’ I retort, too proud to back down.

  ‘Fine,’ Nic says, folding his arms in front of him. ‘Let’s call it fifty quid.’

  I scoff. ‘Make it a hundred.’ Right now, I haven’t got fifty pence to my name, but he doesn’t have to know that.

  ‘Done,’ he says shaking my hand. Jack just rolls his eyes. ‘Easiest money I ever made.’

  ‘Prepare to eat your words.’

  Operation ‘Bagging Alice’ is in progress.

  Saturday 13th October

  Alice

  So, when I said I’d rather live with anyone, I was banking on actually finding someone. Anyone. But for a banging area like Cavendish Place in Brighton, and a gorgeous Georgian flat just off the beach, I can’t find any fucker that wants to live with me.

  Well, I say that. Apart from some sick bastards that have contacted me, clearly having seen me naked. The few normal people that do want to move in, want to do it in a few months. Need time to ‘sort themselves out’. Bloody pussies.

  So, I have two very limited options. Either I can’t pay the rent and see how quickly they’ll evict me. I mean, squatters have rights, don’t they? Or the other, more painful option, is to let Tom ‘Manwhore’ Maddens move into my little piece of paradise. I can’t even consider the third option: moving back home. I shudder at the idea.

  Oh God. I’m going to have to do it. Swallow my pride and call him. Ask him to... gulp... live with me. God, it’s such an awful idea, maybe I will have to think about moving back home. But that is even worse than living with that dickhead. My parents and I don’t get on. They want me to be something I’m not.

  I flatten up the bill with his number on and dial it into my mobile. It rings four times. Please let it go to voicemail. That’ll be so much less humiliating.

  ‘Yep,’ he answers. What kind of person answers the phone like that? Yep?

  ‘Hi. It’s Alice.’ I swallow, attempting to relieve my dry mouth. I’m as nervous as when I first spoke to a boy on the phone. I was fifteen then, and as I wait for him to answer it’s as if no time has passed at all.

  There’s silence. ‘Sorry. Alice...?’

  He cannot be serious right now. ‘Alice Watts, dickhead.’ I spit through gritted teeth. ‘You know it’s me.’

  ‘Oh, hi, Ice Queen,’ he says, far too happily for my liking. I can just imagine his stupid face smirking and thinking how funny he is. ‘How are you?’

  God, I can’t believe I have to back down to this idiot. Ask him to live with me. To take up residence in this funky flat I’ve managed to make my own. I look around at the turquoise walls and eclectic furniture I’ve bought over the years. He’s not going to appreciate this. But then if he doesn’t move in I’ll lose it all anyway.

  ‘Yeah, well...’ I clear my throat and square my shoulders to fake confidence, even though he can’t see me. ‘I’m just calling to say if you want to move in here you can. But I have some conditions.’

  ‘Oh r-e-a-l-l-y,’ he answers smugly stringing out the word. ‘And what makes you think I’m still interested?’

  I clench my fists. The cocky bastard wants me to beg. Not going to happen.

  ‘You’re still sleeping on Erica and Brooke’s sofa. I’m pretty sure you’re still interested.’

  I bloody hope he is. What if he’s found somewhere by now?

  ‘Fine,’ he sighs. Oh, thank God. ‘What are these conditions?’ I can almost imagine him doing air quotes.

  ‘Okay, number one. No bringing women back here.’

  He makes a sound like he’s just hit a buzzer. ‘No way. Even my parents let me bring girls back.’

  ‘Stop calling them girls. It makes you sound like you’re bringing back schoolgirls. They’re women.’

  ‘Fine. Call them whatever you want, but if I’m paying half the rent I want my proper rights.’

  I roll my eyes. ‘What about if I agree not to bring back any guys too?’

  He snorts a laugh. ‘Yeah, like you’d be bringing guys back.’

  ‘Sorry?’ I challenge, clenching my hand around the phone. ‘Are you trying to say that I can’t pull?’ Does he think I’m butt ugly or something?

  ‘No, not that you can’t, just that you don’t. How long have I known you now, and I’ve never seen you hook up for a one-nighter?’

  Calm down, Alice. He’s just saying you’re not a slag. That’s a good thing. Well, maybe I should become a slapper. Look what happens when I try to stick to relationships.

  ‘That doesn’t mean I don’t.’

  He scoffs. ‘Okay.’

  God, this man is infuriating. ‘Whatever, Tom. Take it or leave it. No whores back here or no room for you.’

  I hold my breath, awaiting his answer. I hate to admit it, but I really need him. Nothing but silence greets me. Shit, he’s going to say no. I’m screwed.

  ‘Fine. But I move in tomorrow.’

  Sunday 14th October

  Alice

  ‘Honey, I’m home!’ Tom calls as he walks in carrying a huge box the next day. He’s wearing jeans, and a navy t-shirt that’s too tight for him. His stupid biceps are bulging out of it.

  I jump up from the sofa. ‘How did you even get in?’ He hasn’t got a key yet.

  ‘Sorry,’ Erica says from behind him, carrying a smaller box, ‘I gave him my spare key.’

  I run to her and shake her shoulders. ‘Erica, are you sure you won’t move in here with me, and we can leave the boys to live together?’

  She raises her eyebrows. ‘What, with Brooke? You know Nicholas has been jealous enough with Tom staying with us, right?’

  Nicholas really needs to work on his jealousy issues, but Brooke seems to love the attention. It doesn’t help that they used to hook up before she got together with Nicholas.

  ‘Ugh. I can’t believe I have to live with a boy.’ I wail jokingly.

  ‘Hey!’ Tom protests. ‘What was it you said on the phone? I’m a man, not a boy.’

  Using my own words against me. How infuriating.

  ‘Whatever.’ I look down at the two boxes. ‘So, is this all your stuff?’ At least he packs light.

  He laughs. ‘Yeah, right.’

  Jack walks in pushing a clothes rail full of suits. ‘Hey, Alice. Which is his bedroom?’

  ‘Jesus, you’re more of a tart than I thought.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ he dismisses with an eye roll. ‘Just shut up and put an apple pie in the oven, woman.’ He throws his butt down onto my emerald-green, crushed-velvet sofa, his hands behind his head. ‘Time to make me feel at home.’

  I take a deep breath and try to focus on not growling at him. I don’t want to give him the rise he so obviously wants.

  I pull Erica over to one side. ‘Does Tom know about the pictures?’ I whisper. That could be another reason he’s so eager to move in with me. Thinks he’s going to find me naked in the living room shaving my legs.

  She shakes her head. ‘No. Only Jack knows; apart from Nicholas, who’s still trying to get the main site shut down. Apparently, the encryption is a nightmare. But I made them promise not to mention it to anyone else. Especially Tom.’

  ‘Oh, thank God.’

  If he knew about that, he’d only lord it over me. I could do without it.

  Eight boxes, and three packages from IKEA later, and he’s all moved in.

  ‘How is it possible you have so much crap?’ I ask, looking around at all the boxes.

  ‘What can I say?’ he shrugs. ‘I like to take care of my appearance.’ His eyes rake over my jeans and black tank top. ‘You should try it some time.’

  I roll my eyes. ‘Whatever, Manwhore.’

  ‘Anyway, we should get off,’ Jack says looking at his watch. ‘Alice, thanks for taking him off our hands.’

  ‘Keep that sofa open. W
e may kill each other.’

  The minute the front door closes behind them, the awkwardness creeps over me. We stare at each other. I can’t believe I’m living with him.

  ‘So...’ he starts, ‘you want to help me put my bed together?’

  I raise my eyebrows at him. ‘Is that what you say to all the girls?’

  ‘Ha ha. We live together now. I don’t shit where I eat, so that means no fucking for us two.’

  I’m actually appalled that he thinks he needs to clarify this to me. I wouldn’t touch him with a bargepole.

  ‘How will I cope?’ I deadpan.

  ‘Now, I know right now all you want to do is cry into your pillow but come on. You can take your mind off it by helping me build my bed.’

  I sigh, folding my arms over my chest. ‘God, if it’ll shut you up and get you into your bedroom, then fine.’

  I follow him in and sit cross-legged on the floor while I read the instructions.

  ‘This seems simple enough.’

  Famous last words. It’s a fucking nightmare. No wonder they sell their stuff so cheap, it’s because you end up setting it on fire in frustration and buying another set.

  ‘Where’s the squiggly thing?’

  ‘Ugh.’ I throw myself down onto the floor. ‘I don’t know what a fucking squiggly thing is. I’m so over this!’

  He sighs heavily, his normally line-free forehead deeply furrowed. ‘Me too. I’m gonna have to sleep in your bed.’

  That has me looking up at him. ‘I don’t bloody think so!’ I shriek. ‘Jesus, one night here and you’re trying it on.’

  He smirks. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Ice Queen.’

  ‘I hear the sofa is very comfortable,’ I counter with a smug smile.

  He lets out a heavy sigh. ‘How can one piece of furniture cause so much stress?’ He stands up and kicks the bed frame.

  I stand up too and give it a kick. It feels good. I shove at it and kick it again. He joins in, and before we know it we’re beating the shit out of the bed, screaming in rage.

  We stop, out of breath and on the floor. His chest heaves, straining his muscles against his navy t-shirt. He catches me looking, I know he does, but I look away quickly and for once he’s kind enough not to mention it.

  ‘I’ll get you some blankets for the sofa.’

  Tom

  I look at my watch. It’s one am and I can’t sleep on this shitty sofa. She must have found this in a skip as no person would willingly spend money on it, surely? It’s one of those poncy arty sofa’s that’s all about the look and nothing about the comfort.

  I stare up at the framed artwork on the wall: some vintage styled pin-up girl in the middle of an ace of hearts playing card. It’s pretty cool. The whole flat is really. Well, it’s totally Alice. An eclectic mix of mismatching furniture that somehow works alongside these pin-up pictures, plants, and hardwood floors.

  I start my new job tomorrow, and I really don’t want to be sleep deprived. I’d just pull out my new mattress and sleep on that, but with the half-built bed frame there’s no room for it to go on the floor. She must have stolen the bigger room.

  I could just sneak into bed with her. I shake my head. No, I can’t do that. She’d kill me. There’s no way she’d allow it. Plus, I don’t want to scare her too much on my first night. But... what if she’s already asleep? I mean, she should be at this time. Maybe I should just go and take a peep. See if she’s passed out already.

  I creep along the floorboards into the wide hallway that she’s lined head-to-toe with books, and tentatively take hold of her door knob. It squeaks ever so slightly as I turn it. I wince, frozen in place, waiting to hear her shout out for me to fuck off. She doesn’t, so I push it slowly open.

  I feel a thrill of excitement as I realise this is the first time I’ll see her room. A sliver of light from the hallway exposes its warm red walls, a few shades lighter than her hair. It’s not how I imagined it to be. I’m not sure what I was expecting. Maybe something more like the sitting room.

  Her black bedspread is covered in flower patterns and there are big fluffy pillows thrown on the floor. Her furniture is white and relatively plain, but on every wall are photos. Photos of her and the girls, photos of landscapes, photos of celebrities. So many of them. I wonder if she took some of those?

  She’s under the covers, lying face down on her stomach. One of her slim pale legs is poking out. She’s wearing little shorts which have ridden up, so I can make out the curve of her arse cheek. I’ve always thought of her as skinny and almost boyish, but that’s a good little arse. Her skin is so milky-white I’m kind of surprised she doesn’t glow in the dark.

  I creep over to the empty side of the bed, glad she hasn’t starfished across the whole mattress. I look down at her, her mass of red hair shielding her face. It’s grown since we all met at Luna Island.

  She suddenly stirs, a soft moan filling the silent room. I freeze. Shit, what a way to be found. Watching her sleep. She’d kick me out and get a restraining order for sure. She rests her head back onto the pillow, this time half of her face is visible.

  Even without make-up, she looks pretty much the same. The same flawless pale skin, thin lips with the most perfect cupid’s bow, and long lashes. Although I’m shocked to see they’re fair. Is she naturally blonde?

  I pull the duvet back carefully and let myself into the bed, careful not to touch her. Ooh, it’s memory foam. God, it’s warm and cosy. I roll onto my side and watch her while I let sleep take a hold of me. She might act fierce, but up close like this, she’s just another beautiful girl.

  Monday 15th October

  Alice

  I wake up naturally, like I do most mornings. It’s typical that I don’t have a regular job where I need to be at a desk at nine for and yet I still wake up before eight am. I push my arms over my head and indulge in a glorious stretch, moaning from the release of my tight muscles. My hand meets something hairy. Oh my god, is a mouse in my bed? Or worse, a hairy spider? Aren’t the only hairy one’s tarantulas that bite you and leave you paralysed?

  ‘Aaarrrgh!’ I scream, sitting up in bed and shaking my hand in the air.

  I look over to where I’m expecting to see something causing me to run out of the front door and post a petrol bomb through the letterbox.

  Instead, I find a sleeping, topless Tom. What the hell is he doing in my bed? I don’t know if I’m relieved or more afraid.

  He stirs, obviously from my ghoulish scream, eventually opening his eyes. I glare down at him with a hatred I feel deep in my soul.

  ‘Tom. What the fuck are you doing in my bed?’ I screech, using the duvet to cover me up as best as possible. Thank God, I didn’t sleep naked.

  He looks around, his creased eyes slowly adjusting to the light, as if trying to remember where he is. ‘Oh yeah. Oops.’

  He is unbelievable. ‘Oops! This wasn’t a fucking accident. You snuck in here in the middle of the night and got into my bed! People have been arrested for less.’

  He stretches out, exposing dark-blonde hair under his armpits. ‘Oh, chill out. I needed a good night’s sleep before I start work today. Now, how about I make it up to you by making some bacon and pancakes?’

  ‘I’m a vegi-fucking-tarian,’ I growl, my muscles twitching with rage. ‘You bloody know this, you imbecile.’

  ‘Oh yeah.’ He chuckles to himself. ‘I keep forgetting bacon is meat.’

  I frown. Can someone really be that dense?

  ‘I take it you have pancake mix though, right?’ He smiles hopefully. How can he be so carefree when he’s totally overstepped a boundary line?

  ‘I don’t bloody know. Isn’t it just some flour and eggs?’

  He frowns. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll Google it, roomie.’

  He climbs out of the bed in only his tight black boxer shorts, stretching so high he pushes the ceiling. Damn it, he really needs to put a shirt on. He’s got muscles on top of muscles. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a man look that good undre
ssed, and the closeness of having him in my bedroom is doing strange things to me. Shit. If this is how unsettled I feel after day one, how am I going to feel after a month?

  It’s only a month, Alice. I’ll keep looking for someone, maybe one of the people that couldn’t move in straightaway. Just ride this month out and then I’ll be fine and rid of Tom ‘Manwhore’ Maddens for good.

  By the time I made it out to the kitchen, the place was destroyed. I’m not even being dramatic. Pancake sludge was everywhere. What I thought was flour covered every surface and much of the floor. He proudly presented me with two pancakes that were burned around the edges.

  ‘As a sorry gift,’ he’d said.

  Well maybe it would have worked if they were edible. As soon as I put the lumpy pancake into my mouth, I knew I had to spit it out. It tasted rank. Turns out when he found I had no flour, he’d thought baking powder could be a fine alternative. You know, being that they’re both white. Fucking idiot.

  Then he rushed off to work claiming he couldn’t be late on his first day, leaving me to clean it all up. To say I’m fuming is an understatement.

  I need to get his bed built somehow today. I can’t have him thinking he can sleep in my bed again. Fucking pervert. I wouldn’t put it past him to have groped a boob while he had the chance. I should call the police on the man.

  So I call Brooke and together we work it out, putting it together before I have to run off to photograph a newborn. Thankfully there’s a mum who liked my work so much she doesn’t care I’m now an unofficial FHM model now.

  Tom best be bloody grateful.

  Evelyn and Brooke attach me to a WhatsApp group titled ‘Fight for Alice’. Jesus, with those two I dread to think what it could be. Someone starts typing so I wait patiently.

  Brooke: Me and Evelyn have been talking

  Evelyn: And we think we need to have a word with the police about those photos.