The Girl with the Plan

11

Life just isn't the same anymore, not since I've started desiring Van as much as I do. I can't even focus on my work, my mind is constantly reeling, guessing up scenarios, a slow burn between my thighs so strong that I have to squeeze my thighs shut to cope with it. It's as if I've had some maddening sexual awakening, despite the fact that I've been sexually active for a while now.

"You have been half a world away recently, what is up with you?" Kel says from her desk, she doesn't turn to face me while talking.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm having to chase you up for deadlines you used to easily meet, because you're hands are constantly under your chin, thinking about something," she says, a slight annoyance within her tone.

"I'm sorry Kel, I know I've been slacking a bit," I say guiltily.

"It's fine, but only if you tell me why?"

She spins around now, facing me. And for a second I debate telling her about my insatiable desire for Van. But I don't, it would be beyond stupid to tell Kelly of all people. She'd spout it around half of the town, and then I'd come across as no better than Abby or the rest of his groupies.

"Is it Jon?" She asks, after a while of silence.

I tut, "I've barely seen the boy,"

She hums, before her work phone rings and she rolls her eyes, turning to answer it.

The rest of the day I keep my mind focused, completing more work than I have all week. And Kel seems satisfied by the end of it.

The evenings are cold now, too cold for me to be walking around in short skirts, my legs blue from the bitter cold. I can't bare the feel of tights, the fight to keep them up all day, the holes that constantly form in them from nowhere. I'd rather be cold than deal with all of that.

I ignore my phone consistently buzzing on my coffee table when I get home, too engrossed in the latest season of Top Boy that has taken me near enough months to get to. This is the most relaxed I've felt in a while actually, legs sprawled messily on the sofa, a glass of wine sat in front of me and a silk red robe covering my freshly showered, naked body. The thought of looking at the phone and it being Jon just makes me want to leave it more, I can't bare the guilt I feel towards him. I've been declining his invitations out all week, hoping that he'll get the message but he just won't. I know I'm going to have to talk to him at some point.

My phone dings yet again, and I roll my eyes moodily, finally sitting up to grab it and see who is harassing me.

There's two missed calls from Jon, and then a missed call from a random number. I frown, immediately wondering who it is. But when I look at my messages, the number has sent me something,

Call me back, V x

The frown on my face only deepens as I consider whether someone has gotten the wrong number. But the 'V' throws me off otherwise, it's got to be Van. Nobody else I know has a name beginning with that letter. Either way, I don't wait around to ponder anymore, instead clicking on the number and calling.

It rings three times before they pick up, and when I hear a north-western accent say hello, I know I was right in my assumptions.

"How did you get my number?" I ask him, laying back down on the sofa with the phone to my ear,

"I asked Larry, just pretended I wanted to call you about a Sunday roast my mums invited us all to," he states and I raise my eyebrows.

"Pretending?"

I hear a pause through the phone. I haven't actually seen Van in a while, he's been in Cheshire, England, meeting up with people he used to know. He's only been gone spare of a week.