Chapter 21

Sunday, Dec 17

Molly

I had always liked Bella's guestroom. For one thing, the bed is big and super comfy, so much nicer than my own which to be honest could do with a new mattress. Secondly, there are these great thick curtains, that leave the room pitch black even in day time so one can have a sleep in. I needed that this morning. I glanced at the red digits of the digital alarm clock on the bedside table. It was 09:13 but I felt far from rested. Good, I was so hungover. Or perhaps still drunk. Probably both simultaneously if that is possible. It was like I had a little man pounding with a hammer inside my head and my mouth felt like I had been chewing on sandpaper. I desperately needed a glass of water and some Advil, but I did not know how because I was unable to move, it would hurt too much and likely provoke me to vomit. I needed to lie very still. Worst kind of catch 22.

I tried to produce some saliva using willpower, but it did not work. There was no point shouting for Matt or Bella to bring me anything because they were surely feeling even worse than I did. Maybe I should try to get up just to... no really, really bad idea. I could not stand raising my head from the pillow. I just had to try to enjoy the lovely bed until I felt well enough to move. I stretched out to fully take advantage of how spacious it was and that was when I felt it. My foot touched something warm and furry. My first thought was if Bella had gotten a cat without telling me. Carefully I let my toes touch it again. It seemed to be hairy rather than furry and longer than a cat for sure, I could not feel the start and end of it. It reminded me of a... LEG! A FUCKING LEG! I panicked at the realization that someone was lying beside me in the bed and I had absolutely no idea who.

I sat up with a scream and knocked the bedside lamp over when I tried to turn it on. I heard the bulb break.

"Fuck fuckety fuck!"

Then a hand grabbed my arm in the darkness and I thought I would shit my pants because I was so scared, preparing myself to fight off an assault.

"Molly, is that you?" It was a raspy, tired, yet familiar voice asking.

"Yes. Shit! Is it you, Charles?"

"Guilty."

"What are you doing here?!"

"Trying to sleep but someone won't let me."

Did I hear a slightly annoyed tone in his voice? Excuse me! It seemed uncalled for, after all this was my sister's bed.

"I get that, but why in the same bed as me?"

"You sure weren't in it when I went to bed. I would have noticed. I think. I was very drunk."

"I would have noticed if you were here when I went to bed!"

"Sure?"

"Well, I never turned on the lights and I was also a tad drunk, but..."

It occurred to me that Matt already was in bed when I put Bella there, which made it likely that Charles was in this bed when I jumped in. I was still unwilling to admit I had been the one intruding.

"How could you not notice when I jumped into the same bed as you? I don't think I was very discreet."

"I was probably asleep. Drunken asleep. How could you not notice even if lights were out?"

"I was drunken awake." Now I laughed but realised that using face muscles was too painful and quickly lay down. Laying down sharing one duvet, I suddenly got worried.

"You're not naked, are you?"

His leg was, I had already felt it and was eternally grateful that it was not some other "furry" part of him I had happened to touch. God, just the thought if I had touched him there and he had woken up. It would have meant a life-time of embarrassment. Lucky it was dark because I felt my face heat up just thinking about it.

"What if I was?" he said mockingly.

"Please don't tease, my head can't cope with that."

"Okay. I'm not naked. I'm wearing my trunks."

A completely naked Charles would have been awkward, a nearly naked Charles was intriguing. The thought of his delicious body stretched out next to me in only trunks was tantalizing. Unfortunately, I was not in a state to attempt being a temptress even if I had thought he would have been receptive to it, which I was quite certain he was not. Both because he would be hungover and tired too, and because he was clearly out of my league any day. Anyway, it was the second annoying catch 22 of the day: being in bed with gorgeous man and unfit to even attempt seducing him.

"That's a bloody relief."

I let out a sigh and heard him laugh softly.

"And you Dawes?"

"What about me?"

"Do I have to live in fear I have a naked woman next to me?"

"No! I have bra and knickers, no nude sleeping here. I never sleep nude. Well, except when I, you know…"

I interrupted myself, no need to give out more information than asked for.

"Good to know."

He still sounded amused. I would have loved to see his face, but it was quite nice lying here chatting in the dark and I had no wish for him to see mine. I had not washed off my party makeup yesterday and in addition to looking exhausted, I could guarantee that smudged eyeliner left-overs would have turned me into a panda. A scary one, not a cute one.

"What kind of bra and knickers?"

"What? Why would you want to know?"

"It sort of makes a difference if it is a sensible cotton set or if it's just a tiny scrap of lace."

I wondered what he would prefer that I was wearing in this moment. Perhaps giant granny pants so I would be as covered up as possible. I was not wearing granny pants, but not a flimsy lace thingy either.

"If you must know it's a satin bra with a little lace trim. Black. After all it was a party night yesterday and I always like to feel nice from inside out then, and it matched my little black dress."

He did not say anything, but I got the feeling he was smirking in the darkness. I did not know what to say next, so we lay quiet for a while and I felt that I still was in desperate need of a glass of water. Or perhaps a jerrycan and a tube, that would be nice.

"So, did you have a good time at the hen then?"

This was really the least ideal situation for small talk I had been in, with this throbbing headache but I had to try. I wanted to be funny and witty but only managed to croak;

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

"That's it? I was expecting something more. You don't sound very enthusiastic." I could definitely hear him smiling.

"Prosecco. There was so much Prosecco I'm not able to talk now."

"Hungover?"

"Hungover and still drunk, I think."

"Funny, I actually feel much better than I deserve."

"Of course you do."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're Mr. Perfect. It's only natural that you should feel fresh and rested even after a stag do."

"I think 'fresh and rested' is exaggerating a bit. I just said it could have been worse. And what do you mean with Mr. Perfect?"

"I'm not sure. You strike me as this perfect person, always in control, always looking good, great singer, brilliant skater, Major..."

"It does not sound like you're giving me compliments."

"I'm not not giving you compliments. It's just that you can make people around you (me) feel like they don't quite hit the mark."

To be honest I don't know why I said that. Not only that it was not a very nice thing to say to anyone, but most of the time he did not make me feel that way. On the contrary he made me feel safe and appreciated and he was kind, helpful and had a great sense of humour. It was only now that I was lying here nearly naked and half-drunk that I felt self-conscious and inadequate. Even more so after saying those words. I wanted to take them back and tell him he was wonderful, the most amazing man I had met, but I could not without seeming like a lovesick cat.

"Do I? Is that how I make you feel?"

He sounded hurt. I hated myself.

"I'm sorry. It didn't come out like I wanted it to. It's just that you seem so perfect compared to me."

"You're telling me you're not perfect, Ms. Doctor?"

"Everything but. I don't do perfect."

"Molly, I can promise you I'm everything but perfect. If you really knew me, you would see I'm quite flawed."

"So now you're trying to impress me with your alleged flaws?"

"Seems so."

"Tell me one."

"One what?"

"Tell me one of your flaws."

"I don't know…"

"You see, you can't even think of any."

"Okay, okay!"

He was silent for a while, I got the feeling he was deliberating what to expose. Maybe he thought this was a bit like during a job interview when they ask for your weaknesses and you need to come up with one that is not too bad and can be turned into a strength in some way.

"I haven't always been there for people I care about", he finally said. "Partly because my job took me away, but I also consciously stayed away, ran, when things got emotionally difficult, instead of dealing with it. I'm not very good at emotional stuff, better at boxing it up inside and keep from getting emotionally involved. It suits well in the army but not so much in my personal life."

"Sounds quite convenient. Me, I get too emotionally involved all the time, like with patients. Have to tell myself to cut it off."

"Maybe, but I also miss out on things. I try to change it, but it's not done in a day."

I wondered who the people were, that he had not been there for. Parents, friends, past girlfriends? I did not dare to ask though if he did not volunteer the information.

"Any other flaws?"

"I'm stubborn. I like to be right…"

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Yeah, the difference is that I know I'm right most of the time…"

I could hear he was making fun of himself, so he did not come out as obnoxious.

"…and I have a jealous streak."

"You're really getting warmed up, aren't you?" I laughed, as he seemed to be pouring out his own flaws now.

"You see, I'm not perfect."

"I think you have proven your point", I laughed.

Unfortunately, I felt a wave of nausea and realised I had no choice but to very quickly leave the bed.

"I'm sorry!"

I jumped up (NOT good for my head or nausea, getting worse by the second) and stumbled towards where I knew the door to the en-suite bathroom ought to be, desperately fumbled for the handle in fear of vomiting at the bedroom carpet, finally found it, got inside and sank to my knees in front of the toilet chair as soon as I had locked the door. Could not risk a curious Charles to appear when I was at it. I had enough presence to keep my hair away, but otherwise it was not beautiful. Vomiting is truly humiliating. The way your entire body engages into throwing up whatever content you have in your stomach, leaving your muscles exhausted, your throat sore and the mouth tasting of bile. The upside is you actually feel a bit less nauseous afterwards.

I had turned on the light to ensure I did not miss the toilet and now peered in the light, heaved myself up to the basin and looked myself into the mirror. I should not have done that, it was a sight scary enough for a horror movie and I was immensely grateful that it was dark in the bedroom so Charles had not seen me like this. I washed my face with large amounts of ice cold water, to remove all traces of smeared makeup and make my eyes look a bit less puffy. I ended by putting a dollop of toothpaste in my mouth, vastly improving the taste. Compared to some minutes ago I felt much fresher but as the starting point was low, I still felt pretty miserable. I was ready to return to the bed anyway.

I was completely blind in the darkness and fumbled towards the bed.

"You want me to turn on the lights?"

"No! No, please, I still can't stand the light with my headache."

And I did not want him to see me even if I had freshened up.

"Would you feel better if I stroke your hair? My mum always used to do that with me when I was ill."

I had no idea if it would make any difference to me being hungover, but it did not matter. I would love if he stroked my hair. Mum always did too when we were kids. This would be different, obviously.

"Maybe."

"Come here, then."

I heard him shift in the bed and I moved closer, carefully, a bit nervous to collide with his face or touch him somewhere I should not. I felt that he had stretched out his right arm, and now pulled me to him at the same time wrapping it around my shoulder, so I ended up in a position where I rested my head half on his shoulder, half on his arm, held by it, close to his side. He started smoothing over my hair with his free hand. The rest of our bodies did not fully touch, because we had some duvet tucked between us, but he was so close. The lovely warmth from him, his scent, the soft and slow touch. Things could not be better, except for my headache and that he surely had heard me puke.

"I wish you hadn't seen me like this. Or heard."

"It happens to all of us sometimes. Look at like this, Molly, I've seen you like this and I still really like you."

He liked me.

"Surprisingly much."

I was not sure what that was supposed to mean but I could not be bothered to care. This felt so good. I felt so comfortable, safe, happy, sleepy... I did not want to fall asleep, I wanted to stay awake and keep enjoying this, but I felt myself relax more and more into his body at his soft touch, maybe even his lips, to my hair and at some point, I dozed off.

When I woke up again it was still dark, the curtains ensured that. I had to remind myself of where I was once again and then the whole situation with Charles came back to me. Unexpectedly sharing bed with him. That was when I realised that the space next to me was disturbingly empty and cold. Charles seemed to be gone. I turned the lights on and it was confirmed. His clothes were gone, the bathroom empty. It seemed like he had found it fitting to leave (escape?) when I was sleeping. Oh, if I had not fallen asleep, but it had been so lovely. Possibly my best moment in bed with anyone ever despite that it had not involved sex.

Could he not have left me a note at least?

I got dressed, the little black dress that had felt so right yesterday was not what I would have liked to put on now but the only clothing I had. I knew I would feel like doing a walk of shame on my way home, without even had had the benefit of getting a good shag. Not that shags that preceded a walk of shame necessarily tended to be good and I would not have changed the time with Charles for that. Unless the shag was with him. I could feel my entire body respond just at the thought of it. He was probably great in bed, just like he seemed to be good at basically everything else except getting emotionally involved. His own words. Was that the reason he was single?

Anyway, all I longed for was coming home to my own place, get changed to t-shirt and joggers, or maybe pyjamas and go back to bed. On my way out, I peeked into my hosts' bedroom and they were still asleep, now cuddled up with Matt holding Bella. Aaaaw, they were the cutest and soon they were to marry. Charles nowhere to be seen in the house and his shoes and coat were not in the hallway. I wish I knew why he had gone without saying good bye.

I kept thinking about him all the way home. How I liked him more and more, but would he still want to see me next week or had I scared him off making a fool of myself throwing up and telling him he was so perfect he made me feel inadequate? If I had nothing clever to say, why could I not just keep my big gob shut? Sometimes I was really tired of myself. A classic Molly Dawes fuck up way of scaring away the loveliest man I had ever met.

I was still slightly nauseous, and the journey home took ages. Once I finally was inside the flat, I looked in at Georgie in her room. She was still asleep. She and some of the other girls had stayed in the club when I brought Bella home, so it was possible she had been up all night. I got changed, put my dead mobile phone in the charger, prepared myself a sandwich (even if I was not sure I would be able to eat), a cuppa, a huge glass of water and (finally!) the head ache pill I had craved, then crashed in the sofa.

After a couple of minutes, my iPhone came alive and absentmindedly I entered the pin. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest when I saw that a text from Charles appeared. Then another. And another. Why had I not thought of that – who would leave a note these days when you can send a text. Well, I probably would but I'm a bit of a slow adapter.

From: Charles

Hi Sleeping Beauty,

Hope you feel better now. Sorry I was not there when you woke up but had to return to Bath to meet someone.

Wondered who he was meeting that was so important. A date?

From: Charles

You snore like a truck driver when you're drunk

Oh, no. No no no. Wish I did not snore at all and if I did only very lady like.

From: Charles

I like being with you anyway

From: Charles

I hope your silence means you're still asleep and not that you think I'm an annoying stalker

No chance in the world I would ever think that. He liked being with me? He liked being with me! Best not interpret too much into that but I could not help it made me giddy with happiness. The last was sent an hour ago. I had better respond, not to be impolite.

From: Molly

Hello stalker

Awake now and feeling better. If you had seen me, you would have known I was sleeping but hardly a beauty. Thanks for being so nice when I was hungover, sorry for bathroom incident. I like being with you too. Even if you're almost perfect.

From: Charles

You're alive!

Who says I didn't turn on lights to have a look?

From: Molly

You didn't?

From: Charles

I did. Curiosity is another of my flaws.

From: Molly

Guess I have myself to blame as I told you I don't do perfect.

From: Charles

Exactly!

Still want to see me later this week?

Absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt, fucking, yes. Maybe he did not have a date today after all.

From: Molly

Sure you won't have an overdose?

From: Charles

I think I can handle it. Arriving in Bath now, but I'll call you. OK?

From: Molly

OK

From: Charles

BTW. I liked what I saw when I turned on the lights.