Chapter 3

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It was dark when I woke up and the time on my phone confirmed that it was still early. 6.45am. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could see the dress I'd worn last night crumpled across the blanket. Straining my neck, I could see a bra - my good bra, the one that pushed what little I had up and together - on the floor next to my open handbag. A tube of mascara, some receipts and my Oyster travel card had spewed out.

I slowly looked under the blanket. Yep, I just had my knickers on. As I lowered the blanket, I noticed a big black nightclub stamp on my wrist and hoped it would wash off before my job interview tomorrow morning.

I suddenly had a flash of Scott promising to organise some sort of job interview for me. I realised I had no idea where he worked, but I probably wouldn't hear from him anyway.

I had to get a glass of water at some point very soon or I had no chance of getting back to sleep. There was only one thing for it. Like ripping off a bandaid in one motion, I flung my blanket aside and gasped as the cold hit my skin.

I reached for my bathrobe, which was resting over the chair next to the bed. I'd bought it on my first day in London. Forget work suits or the 'treat yourself' winter coat. My first priority was a ming blue bathrobe from Primark. Plus £4 ugg boots. I shoved my feet into them and wiggled my toes. Folding my arms across my chest, I scurried down the stairs.

As I reached the landing, I heard snoring coming from the living room. I already knew who it was - Aussie Matt, my flatmate's friend with the deep brown eyes, permanent five o'clock shadow and big arms. He wore a lot of polo shirts, slept with lots of women and always had some crazy story about the night before when he'd been 'smashed.' I couldn't decide whether I was repulsed by or attracted to him, but deep down I knew the answer. I was attracted to him, of course. I was always masochistically drawn to men with good arms who treated women like they were disposable and showed signs of a drinking problem. I definitely couldn't say I was attracted to him right now, though, passed out and slumped against our wine rack. That's how he'd look sleeping next to me if we ever hooked up. It would so not be worth it. I'd lose any respect my new flatmates had for me in exchange for waking up next to a big, hairy, sweaty man who'd never call.

There was a break in his snoring as he scratched his balls. He exhaled loudly and the snoring started up again. I realised that, in the murky state between my drunkenness fading and my hangover creeping in, I'd been staring at him. Yep, he was definitely not worth the undoubtedly rough shag.

I padded into the kitchen, which was actually quite spacious for a zone two flat in London, and saw that all the glasses were piled up unwashed in the sink. I fetched a mug from one of the top cupboards and filled it with tap water. Water dribbled down my chin as I gulped it down.

'Bit thirsty there, Beth?'

'Shit!' I exclaimed. I wiped my mouth and turned around to see my flatmate, Rick, leaning against the door frame. His black hair stuck out in all directions and his eyes crinkled behind his glasses as he grinned at me. I was suddenly very aware that all I had on under my bathrobe was a pair of stripey blue knickers.

'Shhh, you'll wake up Matt,' he said with a laugh.

'Yeah, Sleeping Beauty,' I smirked, running my fingers through my hair. They caught in a knot. I knew the exact quirks of my unruly hair, so I knew that there were now caramel blonde flyaway strands sticking out at one side.

'Sorry about the man in our living room,' apologised Rick, ambling over to the sink. As he looked for a mug, he checked there was water in the kettle and flicked it on. 'We got really pissed last night.'

'No kidding.'

'We just ended up at the local and it was full on. Matt was doing handstands in there at one point.'

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