I wake up and there’s this girl next to me with the most insane eyebrows I’ve ever fucking seen asleep in my bed. Are they painted on? Are they tattooed? What the fuck? How drunk was I? I never let girls stay the night. She’s still sleeping, so I MI5 roll out of bed, scared to wake her and have a sober conversation about whatever the fuck we did last night and creep out of my own bedroom, venturing upstairs.
The sun looks pretty high. Midday, I’m guessing.
“Eyy,” sings Jonah as I walk over to the fridge, cracking open a bottle of water.
“Didn’t we have quite the night?” says my brother, sitting up from the couch. “How are you feeling, big man?”
I glare over at him, the smarmy git. Do a big yawn and stretch. “Rusty.” I rub my head. “What happened?” And then Jonah and Henry both go kind of still, catch each other’s eyes.
“You, uh—” Jonah clears his throat. “What do you remember from last night?”
I rub my temples with the heel of my hands. “Got there, got shit-faced—I think the chick downstairs gave me like… a lap dance? And then—” Jonah’s nodding. So far, correct—Jo looks weird though. And then I remember. My face freezes. “Fuck. Shit!” I look between them both. “Parks.”
Henry pulls an uncomfortable face, then nods. My hands are on my cheeks, I feel like I might throw up. I can see her face in my mind’s eye. How much I hurt her. How could I have hurt her like that all over again? I groan, laying my face down on the bench.
“Um,” Jonah clears his throat again. “That’s not all.” I roll my face over the cool marble, peering up at him, hopeless.
“You or me?” Henry says, walking over.
Jonah shake his head. “All you, my man…”
Henry takes a breath and thinks for a second. “Beej,” he starts. “Do you remember Tom England?”
“Yeah!” I perk up. Bit of a legend. Probably one of the coolest lads on the planet. “What about him?” I panic. “Oh, fuck—I didn’t punch him or some shit, did I?”
(“Not yet,” Jonah sighs under his breath.)
“Well,” Henry says, scratching his chin, “Magnolia left Raffles last night with him.”
“What?” I shrug my lips, confused. “Like he gave her a ride?”
(“Of a lifetime, maybe?” Henry whispers to Jo.)
Jonah’s mouth is pressed together tight. “Mm,” Jonah hums, high-pitched. “I don’t think so. They, um, they left… together.”
“No, but like—he just dropped her home.” I shrug. “He has a girlfriend.”
“Erin?” Henry frowns, shakes his head. “Beej, they broke up like a year ago.”
“Wait—” I blink. “So you’re saying that he and Parks left… together. Together, together?” Doesn’t compute. Tom England. We’re mates.
Henry gives me a look, shakes his head. “He kissed her, Beej.”
I look over at Jonah. “What?”
Jonah’s cringing and nodding.
“What kind of kiss?” I ask, panicked.
“Oh, the worst kind, for sure”—Hen grimaces—“affectionate.”
“Fuck!” I yell. Jonah nods, getting it. “You’re telling me that last night, after I fucked up massively—that the girl of my dreams went home with the man she has out-loud fantasized about being with since she was nine?” I stare at them, incredulous.
“I mean, he is well, fit.” Jonah nods. “He was on her list, right? Like her, get out of jail free list?” I stare at him blankly. “Sorry.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Don’t know why I—never mind. He’s a bastard—”
“Fuck!” I yell again. “Shit! Fuck. Fuck!”
Henry squints at me. “Are you having a seizure?”
“Why didn’t you stop her?” I ask him, my eyes desperate.
“Right, yeah.” He nods. “Hey, Magnolia, I know that you and Beej shared a really tender moment the other night and then you’ve just watched him be vigorously dry-humped by a random girl but do me a grand favour and don’t go home with the hottest man in England.”
“Henry!” I roar. My hands are fists in my hair. I’m sweating.
“Beej”—Jonah touches my arm—“it’s gonna be fine.”
“I don’t know.” Henry shrugs. “He’s right. Parks and England? Kind of makes sense.”
“Fuck,” I bellow again.
And then Surrey appears. “Er—” She stands nervously to the side.
I look at her, my eyes wide. “Shit!”
“Are you o—”
I shake my head at her. Don’t have real words left in my vocabulary. No, though, is the answer. Henry lets out an appeasing, apologetic laugh. “Hello. I’m Henry—this is my brother. He’s just found out that last night the girl of his dreams went home with the man of her dreams and he’s just taking a minute to process—”
I kick the fridge. Say “motherfucker.” Kick it again.
“Um.” She blinks, looking at me, concerned probably mostly for herself. “Oh. Can I—should I… do anything?”
Henry nods. “Leave, probably? Yeah—”
“But I’m—” Surrey starts.
“Listen,” Henry gives her a sorry smile, “does he have your number?” He pauses. “Doesn’t matter—he’s not going to call—he’s one swear word away from usurping Samuel L. Jackson—”
I yell fuck again. Jonah’s laughing a bit, trying not to, I think. I’m not trying to be funny. I feel like my mind is melting. This is my nightmare. Parks and Tom England? My actual nightmare. Because it works. It makes sense. They make sense. More than we make sense. He’s never fucked her over, he’s never hurt her. He’s a clean slate.
And he’s older than me, he’s a god damn pilot, he looks like fucking Thor—I press my hands into my mouth.
Surrey’s gone now. Henry wanders over. “What are you going to do?” He asks this casually, like the sky isn’t falling.
“She came to the club.” I look up at them. “She told me she wasn’t going to come and then she came.”
“And then you came,” Henry says, and eyeballs me playfully. “But differently.”
I give him a look.
“I wonder if England came?” Henry ponders, just to shit me.
I peg my water bottle at him. “Fuck you! This isn’t funny!”
Jonah gives Henry a look. “It’s kind of funny.” Henry shrugs.
“Hen—” Jonah nods in my direction, like I can’t see them.
“What?” Henry shrugs. “Like, it’s ironic. Because BJ went home with the Anti-Parks, and Parks went home with the BJ deluxe.” I rub my hands over my face, stressed. Henry gets his thinking face on again. “Hey, what if she said no because she was just thinking things over for a minute and decided to come because she wanted to like, get back together or some shit and you, because you’re an arsehole—”
“Henry—” Jonah says, eyeballing him.
“Because you’re an arsehole,” Henry says louder. He likes Parks more than me most days. His oldest friend… Never really forgave me for cheating on her. “You dropped trou at the first sight of trouble.”
Jonah gestures to me, staring off into space. “How is that helping?”
Henry shrugs, equally optimistic and ambivalent.
“Listen,” Jonah looks at me, “Parks isn’t like that. She wouldn’t sleep with him just because she saw you…” He leaves it open-ended. Looks uncomfortable. “You know,” I stare at him, waiting for more. “Just go and talk to her.”
