The Office Party

Part 17

In the morning, we both wake up late. My head isn't too bad, but Petra struggles to open her eyes. 'God, Fi. It hurts. It really hurts.' She shields her eyes as I get up and open the curtains. 'Oh no, fuck. Please.' I ignore her as I cross the room to pull my dressing gown on and try hard not to be irritated. I'm still cross at her for going to sleep on me halfway through the sex last night. Particularly because she looks quite cute with her short hair all messy over her face, and her shoulders and arm pale against my sheets. And she looks quite small and young and vulnerable, suddenly. I redirect my anger towards Diana and hope Petra won't get too hurt by whatever fooling around they're doing.

Eventually I sigh and swallow my annoyance. 'Do you want tea or coffee?'

'I want to die.'

'Can you wait till you get home for that? Those sheets were clean on a few days ago.' I go back to the bed and brush hair from her face. Her cheek is hot but soft. I have to admit, I still want her.

She turns her head to kiss my fingers, then winces at a new flash of pain in her head. 'Oh God. OK, um. Coffee, please. Black, lots of sugar.'

***

While I'm standing drowsily waiting for the kettle to boil, I think about me and Petra and what we have. Or don't have. The sex was rubbish, but was that because we were drunk? I still slightly fancy her, with her hungover, messy, morning-after sleepiness in my bed. I put coffee in the caffetière and enjoy the smell. Normally I'd have tea, but this morning I need coffee too. My housemate comes down in her dressing gown, looking as if she hasn't had much sleep.

'Oh, hi. I've bagsied the caffetière,' I say as the kettle flicks off.

She waves her hand as she watches me pour the water. 'It's cool. I'll have instant.' She pauses and grins. 'I was going to make tea. I've got someone upstairs, who doesn't drink coffee apparently.' She yawns.

I refill the kettle and set it to boil again. 'Anyone nice?'

'Quite nice.' She grins and runs her hand through her hair, her gaze focused on a memory of last night. 'Yeah, pretty good actually.' Then she looks at me again and frowns. 'Just a sec.' She goes into the hall and I hear her rooting about for a bit, then she comes back in. 'Martin. Just checked his driving licence.' She pours herself a glass of water and downs it. 'I thought he was Andy for some reason. Oops.' She frowns again. 'He looks like an Andy. Never mind.' She turns back and leans on the side, nodding at the caffetière. 'What about you? That's never just for you.'

I shake my head. 'Girl from work. We got drunk, too drunk to get up to much.' I decide to leave it at that.

'Oh dear. Not the one you were moaning about the other week?'

'Oh, God, no. Not her.' I realise I sound far too emphatic in my denial. I am over Diana, really. 'No, someone else. Just a fling. Or not even that, really.' I shrug. 'It doesn't matter.'

***

Back in my bedroom, I find that Petra has gone back to sleep. I leave the caffetière on the side and go to the bathroom, then pull on my pj shorts and a vest top, and climb back into bed beside Petra carefully. She mutters and turns over towards me but doesn't wake up. I prop myself up in bed with my mug of coffee and stare out the window at the dull wintry weather and wonder about things.

I watch her sleep and wonder why I like being in bed with Petra, despite the fact that our lovemaking has proved disastrous. I wonder why I still fancy her. I wonder where I went wrong, and whether I'm just not a very good lover. Most of my recent sexual liaisons have been less than great in one way or another, and apart from Catherine, I'm really not particularly bothered about seeing them again. But no-one's ever fallen asleep on me before. I know she was tired and drunk, but I struggle not to take it personally. I feel the embarrassment and anger rise up again, and bite it back.