Break-Up Club

by Lorelei Mathias

  ‘But you’ve not eaten any of this delicious food you made us!’ Holly said, pouring more tequila into people’s glasses. She knew she should probably make them into actual cocktails but three margaritas in, she was way past being civilised enough for that.

  ‘Oh, I scoffed a shit ton of it while I was cooking. What’s that saying? A chef is never hungry…’

  ‘Mmm. I wonder who Liv might be going to see at this hour,’ Bella said, eyeing Olivia suspiciously. ‘It wouldn’t be a friend of our housemate’s by any chance?’

  ‘Maybe,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, I thought we were all crashing here tonight for some reason – I’ve even brought a boyfriend pack with me!’ Holly said.

  ‘Oh sorry. I’m a terrible host. Well you can all still stay. You can take the new sofa-bed. I’ll get the spare bedding,’ Olivia said, heading out to the hall cupboard, where she pulled out a duvet. Then she presented them all with matching guest towels, sheets and sets of slippers from posh European hotels that were still in their wrapping.

  ‘Wow,’ Holly said, ‘I feel like we just took a wrong turn and ended up in the showroom at John Lewis!’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. It does feel nice to finally have all my stuff out of storage! Seriously though, I’m sorry to desert you tonight. Help yourself to anything you need. Mi casa es su casa and all that!’

  ‘Thanks Liv!’ Holly said.

  ‘Right, see you later then, fuck-ups,’ Olivia said, dispatching multiple air kisses before slipping away.

  And then there were three.

  Bella sat herself down on the floor in front of Harry.

  ‘Can one of you give me a back rub please? I’ve got all this tension in my neck – must be nerves for my audition tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh I don’t know,’ Harry said. ‘Massaging pretty ladies is such a chore. OK, but only if Holly does mine at the same time.’

  ‘Oooh a massage chain, yay!’ Holly said before doing the maths and realising that as Bella was right next to the table, she would be the one at the back who missed out. With a martyrish sigh she took a seat behind Harry and began kneading his shoulders like they were quiche dough.

  ‘Tell me,’ she said, her fingers beginning to dig into Harry’s shoulders. ‘Is it unacceptable that I keep finding James Blunt’s “Goodbye My Lover” really comforting in my current state?’

  ‘Yes.’ Harry turned round to reprimand her to her face. ‘Not only is it completely unacceptable, but it’s entirely ancient! Either way, it will pass. All things must pass,’ he said, staring into her eyes a little too intensely.

  ‘I hear you. But there’s this one line that kills me!’ She stopped, feeling the floodgates open just behind her pupils.

  ‘But,’ Harry said, realising something, ‘you know that Lawrence wasn’t your “One”, don’t you?’ he finished as though he was a lawyer backing his prosecution into a corner. ‘You always said.’

  Holly’s eyes narrowed. ‘So you know all the lyrics, hey? I thought you said you hated it?’

  ‘I can’t help it if our freakatron housemate Daniel keeps on tuning the kitchen radio to Heart FM, Radio Melancholy. That man has the strangest taste in music!’

  ‘Fuck-sticks,’ Bella said, ‘is that the time? Sorry guys but I’m going to have to hit the hay – I don’t want this massage to end but I need some sleep. I’ve not had paid singing work in months so I have to get this one!’

  ‘Sure, why don’t you crash in Liv’s bed, you’ll get better sleep in that one. We’ll sort out down here.’

  ‘Thanks guys.’

  Harry stood up and pulled out the sofa-bed, while Holly unfolded the bedding and laid it out. Then they sat back down and resumed the massage chain, even if it was now only two people long. As Harry’s hands took over from massaging duties, Holly wondered if there was a feeling in the world more blissfully smug than the moment you make the switch from the massager to the massaged, and all duties are over. She gave a happy sigh.

  ‘Holface,’ Harry began as Bella left the room and headed up the stairs, ‘I know you don’t want to hear it but I think the new do looks kind of hot,’ he said, playfully pulling out some of her Kirby grips in order to set The Fringe free. It was a movement that felt out of the ordinary, and made her slightly uneasy. She shook out the last grip, so her hair fell in loose clumps around her eyes.

  ‘Thanks.’ She turned back around as his hands came back to her shoulders, pressing down on the concrete slab that was her thoracic region.

  ‘It’s very, um, hipster chic,’ he said.

  ‘Ha ha. Ugly chic, more like. Do you want a turn again?’

  ‘Not yet. I’m enjoying giving you one.’

  Holly felt something leap into her belly. Butterflies? Moths? Indigestion?

  They could hear Bella’s footsteps above. Then the running water of a tap, the bristling whirr of a tooth-brush, and finally the sound of a bedroom door closing.

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t be so hard on yourself, Holly. You don’t know how lovely you are, do you? That’s half the reason you’re so lovely.’

  Holly grimaced. ‘Now you sound like that cheesy song! You’re lovely too, you know that.’

  ‘Thanks. Although, I’m really not dicking around. I do think you’re gorgeous. You know I love you, don’t you.’

  ‘Of course. And I you,’ she said, feeling nervous now.

  Harry’s hands were pressing harder, but she let them do their thing. Important to get out all the tension of the last few weeks, she decided. Yep, good for one’s health.

  ‘Oh, that feels fantastic,’ she said loudly as if to assert just how entirely platonic this all was. But Lawrence never used to do that, she thought as another ripple of pleasure shot down her neck. Although, was someone softly kissing the back of your neck all part of the normal repertoire of medicinal massage? she wondered. Best to pretend you haven’t noticed anything unusual, she decided.

  But now she could feel his hands moving outside of what might be defined as the accepted territory of Western massage. As she gently cleared her throat, the hands moved from the small of her back to dangerously close to the edge of her right boob.

  ‘Um, Harry…’

  ‘Holly…’

  ‘No, I don’t mean, mmmm, I mean, um?’ She turned to face him, gently coercing his hand away from Boobville and realising now why the Kirby grip incident had felt unusual. ‘As in, um, is something happening?’

  Part of her was now missing his hand and wanting it to go back to where it had been. That whole area was tingly with withdrawal. Maybe it was actually OK to carry on enjoying the massage? Maybe, if they both just carried on pretending that this wasn’t in any way sensual, that would be fine?

  Harry leaned in, his face closer to hers now than it had ever been. She looked into his green eyes. What if this was actually her perfect rom-com hero, staring her in the face, and she was too stupid to notice this fact? Her eyes closed as his lips crash-landed on hers. His hand squeezed hers. Clunky, sweaty, a little clammy maybe, but sod it, she thought, switching into obedient romantic heroine mode and letting him wrap his other arm around her. As she tightened her arms around his broad shoulders, they kissed and it felt warm, safe and just nice, although obviously a little weird, but she wasn’t going to think about that. For once she was going to live in the moment – do that whole ‘Power of Now’ bollocks. Stop worrying, start living. While she was getting busy living and running her hands through his hair, Harry’s hands were going south. She stopped, pulled away again.

  ‘Come on Hol. There’s a recession on, you know.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

  He kissed her again, less like a friend this time. Then he pulled away, just as she could feel herself getting lost in the moment.

  ‘Aye, remember what Keynes said. A country should shag its way out of a recession.’

  ‘How very nationalistic of you,’ she said, pulling away again, this time more defiantly. ‘And I think the quot
e was “spend”, Harry.’

  ‘Och, semantics. Anyway, don’t worry, this won’t change anything.’ And then he looked at her in a way she’d never seen before. Moments later, his jeans were in a pile at his feet. His hard-on was pressing against her leg through his navy blue boxers, and his hands were wandering towards her boobs, heading around the back to grapple with her bra fastening. It was happening – this weird thing that had once been so out of bounds and off limits in her mind. She opened the door marked ‘Don’t Go In Here You Mentalist’ and stepped, one foot at a time, into a parallel universe; into the aforementioned Circle of Sexual Disgust. Briefly, she let herself enjoy the moment, let herself be swept along by it. You never know, she thought – maybe there was something good in this – maybe this would take her mind off Luke, which would in turn take her mind off Lawrence, and in doing so remind her that she could do casual sexy-times and wasn’t in some way remedial after all?

  As they fell backwards onto the sofa, he leaned into her and began kissing her neck. She opened her eyes and had a proper look at him, viewing him for the first time as a sexual being. He was actually far more muscular and taut than she’d imagined. Ginger pubes (obv), but nice, strong, toned arms that made you feel safe when you were encased in them. And after everything they’d been through the last few months, it felt like coming home. Holly stroked his hair and began kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his closed eyelids, all the while thinking about how much she loved him as a friend. Of how precious their friendship was to her. Of how… Shit. Maybe crossing the line like this would turn out to be an epic fail? Holly opened one eye and watched Harry going through the motions of his Infidel Castro routine. Although the massage had got her going in some way, now she was starting to feel not so much sexy, but rather more like she was kissing her brother. And she didn’t even have a brother.

  But then, he was exceptionally cute, she noticed from deep within the circle. She kissed Harry back with gusto, sending her hands up into the unchartered territory under his ironic T-shirt that read, ‘If you’re interested in time travel, meet me last Thursday.’ She pulled off the T-shirt and threw it to the floor. He pulled off her jeans and she did a grimace as she remembered what terrible knickers she had on.

  ‘Sorry. It’s laundry day… and I’m, er, a little behind with my waxing regime,’ was the only elegant way she could think to phrase the fact her legs and lady-garden were presently more unkempt than the overgrown back yard of Harry’s student digs in Oxford.

  Harry smiled. His lips had moved down her neck towards her chest, and they were headed south. He took a pit stop in the boob area, and she had to admit it felt nice. Nice and a bit weird. She could feel his boxers pressing against her and she knew what was coming. It was probably too late to cancel now – that would surely just be rude at this stage, wouldn’t it?

  Holly took off her best friend’s boxers. As she watched him fiddle with the little rubbery mood-killer, her head was spinning with tequila and confusion. She’d never dreamed of doing this even in her most Freudian of nightmares. Already this was feeling like Too Much Information and Not Sexy but Perfunctory. To be sure, this was definitely a mistake. Of this she was now abundantly certain. But surely you can’t press Undo once you’ve passed this point? she wondered. ‘OH – hang on, back up, back up, I’ve changed my mind SORRY!’ she rehearsed in her head. What was the etiquette with this stuff? Perhaps, if she just kept on kissing him, did the deed, then all thoughts of ‘This Is Wrong’ and ‘ICK!’ would just go away? Diligently, as if to make a mark of defiance to that overactive party-pooping brain of hers, she took her right hand and placed it on Harry’s Oh-my-days-really-rather-enormous-actually-cock and began to do what you were meant to do in this situation.

  ‘Ow.’

  ‘Sorry. You OK?’

  ‘Yes. Just not so – um – tight.’

  ‘Oh. Sorry. Actually, now you mention it, what you’re doing could be a bit gentler.’

  ‘Right,’ Harry looked mildly affronted, as if to say, no one else has ever complained.

  ‘Sorry Hol.’

  Suddenly Holly let go and felt a smile appear from nowhere. She burst into rapturous giggles, just as Harry burst into uncontrollable laughter.

  ‘What you thinking?’ Harry said.

  ‘What the fuck are we doing? You?’

  ‘That this feels weird and we should probably stop, and, um, never drink tequila again?’

  ‘Great. Now shut up and stop kissing me,’ she said. Then she pulled on a T-shirt and pants, and threw Harry his boxer shorts. Once they were dressed, he leaned over and spooned her. Then he started laughing again, as though he’d just realised something ridiculous.

  ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘Oh, just that, these last few weeks, I’ve been harbouring a delusion that I was falling madly in love with you.’

  ‘Are you shitting me? I’m so sorry, I had absolutely no idea!’

  ‘Why else would I have been hanging around you and the club so much?’

  ‘Oh. I thought you were into it…?’

  ‘Christ no! Well, I thought it was ridiculous at first. But I had nowhere better to be, and it was a way for me to spend more time with you. Now of course I’m finding it genuinely useful. I’m not going anywhere.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Anyway. My point is, now I can see I was just really confused! It took getting our kit off and clambering around in the nude for me to realise I was entirely delusional. It was clearly just a strange transference episode, where my feelings for Rachel got discombobulated and projected back at you. No offence but being with you in that way just felt truly awkward and weird and wrong.’

  Holly let out a gargantuan sigh of relief. ‘Phew. Me too.’

  Moments later, though, she began to feel panicky. Would they ever be the same again? This was one of her best friends! What if they’d ruined their friendship? She opened her mouth to speak the words, ‘Christ Harry, we’re going to go to Hell, we’ve broken Rule Number Nine!’

  But the moment was killed by the sound of Darth Vader doing his best heavy breathing. So Harry obviously wasn’t losing any sleep over it. Maybe worrying could wait? She closed her eyes and attempted sleep. By 5 a.m. she was listening to a different breed of dawn chorus to the ones she was used to. Harry’s arms were still enveloping her belly, and the warmth of his body was keeping her awake, but she didn’t have the heart to unpeel them. At one point the Darth Vader noise stopped, and she felt his snoring turn into more regular, quiet breathing.

  ‘Harry? You awake?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Listen. I’m sorry if I misled you in any way.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. You didn’t. Sleepy Time.’

  ‘I guess I was just missing bodily human contact… and affection from someone I can trust…’

  ‘As opposed to Luke.’

  ‘Yes. So, Harry. Um. I don’t think we should tell the others.’

  ‘Course not, we don’t want them getting the wrong idea.’

  ‘I’d hate for the dynamic to change.’

  ‘Hey, it’s no bother. Really, we’re fine.’

  And that was that. Harry had flicked this utter catastrophe away like a mildly irritating flea. Oh, to be a bloke.

  ‘OK then,’ Holly said quietly. ‘Cool bananas it is.’

  Harry tightened his arms around her and they continued spooning. She closed her eyes, her head spinning with regret. Maybe when the sun finally rose everything really would go back to normal. At dawn they would reinstate the original barrier of the Circle of Sexual Disgust. Like a railway crossing lever that had briefly come up, it would go back down again. Tomorrow, partially clothed cuddling would be weird. But today it was absolutely fine and normal, she decided, as she pulled the duvet over their heads and squeezed his hand into hers.

  21. She Who is Tired of London

  ‘You have to see this, Braithwaite!’

  A week later, Jeremy burst into Holly’s office, high on machine espre
sso, dark circles under his eyes. With a crazed expression, he leaned over her computer, logged into Vimeo and pressed play.

  ‘It’s a little sizzle I bashed together, just to get the commissioners even more excited.’

  ‘A what now, for the who now?’

  As Holly watched with eyes aghast, she heard The Beach Boys singing ‘God only knows what I’d be without you’, along with fast-cut clips of people having break-ups in various movies and TV shows. Then, some kinetic type came up on screen, along with some audible dialogue that was all very familiar. ‘Thou shalt not have a relapse with an ex only weeks after breaking up with them,’ went Olivia’s voice, and ‘One day, when you’re strong enough, you’ll claim them all back. You’ll be there, shouting “This Is A Reclaim!” across a crowded dance floor; an incandescent smile on your face!’ Then, the screen went black as some titles appeared. This went on for a few more seconds until Jez grabbed Holly’s arm. ‘Check out this last bit, Hol – it’s a strapline Pascal thought up, based on an old AA advertising slogan.’

  Holly’s eyes widened as the words ‘To our members, we’re the first emergency service’ flashed up, followed by the words ‘Break-up Club, coming soon to Channel Five.’

  ‘Well, shit the bed, Jeremy. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.’

  ‘I knew you’d come around.’

  ‘No. I meant, how the fuck have you got sound recordings of my friends? Could you BE any more morally emaciated?’

  ‘You said nothing about not recording sound. Just picture!’

  ‘Can you please take that down off the Internet. Now! And I WANT THOSE MP3s DELETED! Or I’ll have Olivia file a lawsuit against you for life-theft!’

  Jeremy sighed in a ‘jeez some people are so precious’ kind of way. ‘They’re on the server. I’ll trash them right now.’

  ‘And there’s no way in hell you’re taking this to Channel 5. Or anywhere else. Are we clear on that?’

  ‘But IT’S TERRESTRIAL!’

  ‘Jeremy. I don’t know how else to say this but IT’S A NO FROM ME! And from the others! Well, except Bella, but we’d disown her…’