Besides, he was probably just a bit lonely. I knew that Priscilla had graduated earlier this year and could only find a job down south, so they'd been trying out the long distance thing. Bob tried to put on a brave face but I could tell it was killing him. It didn't help that as an eldest child, it was basically preprogrammed into me to look after friends and family in distress. I always got teased for being the 'mum' of our friend group, but I figured helping them in any way was worth the loss of my (admittedly non-existent) street cred.
"Misty's upstairs but we'll need to take her out the back, wait here a second?" asked Bob. I nodded, looking forwards to finally getting to meet her. Not wanting to boast, but I had a little of the Dog Whisperer magic in me - I'd never yet met a dog who could resist me. Now, if only that worked on men!
A furry white ball of fluffiness catapulted down the stairs and slid to my feet. Misty was a Westie terrier, which normally wasn't one of my favourite breeds but she was an adorable exception. Crouching down, I let her sniff my hand before scratching the special spot behind all dogs' ears. Hearing a chuckle, I looked up to see Bob laughing away at the puddle of canine happiness in front of me.
"So, I get to keep her, right?" I grinned up at him. He smiled and shook his head before turning and heading out the back door. "He thinks I'm kidding but we know the truth..." I whispered to Misty, straightening up and shooing her out of the door. Following her, my eyes took a second to adjust to the pitch darkness of the garden and the first step down took me completely by surprise. Lurching forwards, I didn't even have time to yelp before I felt hands grab my waist.
"Woah! Elegant as ever, Jane..." Lifting me down the three steps to the grass despite my protestations, he dumped me on the lawn and ruffled my hair. "Ah, how boring would things be without you trying to injure yourself every two minutes?"
"I would have you know that it is very dark coming into the garden, and utterly plausible that that could happen to anyone, clumsy or otherwise..." I tried to keep a straight face before bursting out giggling. "Who am I kidding, I'm a walking disaster. It's a miracle I didn't break anything." Plonking myself down on the wooden bench, I sighed and stared up at the stars. Being in the middle of Edinburgh, you rarely get a great view due to all the light pollution, but tonight they were looking especially beautiful. Lost in my thoughts, I failed to see Bob finding a chewed rugby ball in the bushes and then chucking it at my head.
"Ouch! You menace! You're going to regret that!" I grabbed the ball from the ground and threw it to Misty. "Run girl! Hide it far away from your horrible petsitter! Go bury it in a hole!" Misty yapped once before picking it up and dropping it right at Bob's feet.
The next half hour passed in a blur of throwing the rugby ball at each other and the dog, and chasing her around the garden to get it back. Eventually I collapsed back onto the bench, arms wrapped around the ball. Bob sank down next to me.
"That's it. No more running!" I panted slightly. I like to think I keep myself vaguely in shape through playing sports, but I'm no fitness enthusiast by a long way. Trying to cool down, I took my jacket off and put it on the bench. "Please don't let me forget my jacket - my keys are in there, if I lose them I'm not getting home tonight!" I joked to Bob. He narrowed his eyes, then reached behind me to steal my jacket. Cursing him, I dropped the ball and play-wrestled him for my jacket back. He quickly gave up, but kept his arm lying across my shoulders. Whilst we chatted aimlessly about Misty destroying the ball and the flat party we could hear across the garden, inside an epic battle was occurring between the side of my brain screaming at me to put some distance between us and the part yelling back that nothing inappropriate was happening.
Eventually it started getting chilly, so we headed up to the flat. Whilst Bob rummaged through the DVDs, I took the opportunity to lounge out over the entire couch with Misty on my stomach.
"My sofa, my dog. You should basically just move out now," I teased Bob.
"Haha, very funny. By the way, you need to move."
"Nope. Not moving. Hey, wait - you can't - argh!" I shot up just before Bob sat on my head. Although most of our friendship is based on us winding each other up, I always forget that Bob isn't afraid to take it further than I will. If I hadn't moved, I'd have a pretty squashed head right now.
"Fine! If you won't let me have the sofa, then you're being my cushion." He looked at me bemused as I lay straight back down, using his shoulder as my pillow. Immediately I started kicking myself internally for potentially crossing into inappropriate regions again, but Bob didn't seem to mind as he threw a blanket over us to stay warm and wrapped his arm around my shoulder.
In any case, the film had started and I was immediately distracted. The Phantom of the Opera has to be my all-time favourite film, musical, soundtrack - whatever aspect, it's utterly amazing. The best way I've ever found to describe it (in contrast to my usual incomprehensible mumbling and arm waving when asked why I love it so) is "the most passionate and heart-wrenching love story ever told through the most beautiful music ever written".
It was about halfway through the film when I felt his hand brush mine under the blanket. The mental battle began again, paralysing me. A minute later, his hand brushed mine again. Not looking at him, I inched my hand closer. He wrapped his pinkie slowly around mine and stroked my palm with his thumb. I could feel my entire body relaxing - despite only breaking up with Lee last week, it had been some time since I'd experienced this kind of simple, physical intimacy, the kind that doesn't expect anything back, and until now I hadn't realised how much I missed it. The screaming voice in my head briefly beaten, I promised myself that I would leave if he tried to kiss me. That would be the limit, the point when it went beyond anything purely friendly.
As the film came to an end with nothing more happening, we heard Gary coming into the flat. Sitting bolt upright as he came through the door, I probably had the worst 'don't look guilty' face ever. Weirdly, he didn't seem to notice anything, chatting with Bob for a bit before wishing us both goodnight. Maybe I was being stupid - overthinking it as I always do?
Smiling ruefully to myself, I looked over at Bob as I reached for my shoes.
"Ugh. Too late. I really need to head back to my bed."
He half-smiled back at me. "Probably a good plan. Text me when you get back safe, yeah?"
"You do realise my flat is barely two minutes from yours? And how ridiculous you're being?"
"What can I say, my mother raised me well! Text me. Or else I'm keeping you awake all night by texting you Ed Sheeran lyrics." Bob was the biggest fan of Ed Sheeran, and was on a mission to convert me too, with minimal success as of yet. Secretly, I had to admit he wasn't bad, but no way was I letting Bob know that!
"Amazingly, I can foil your evil plan with this fantastic invention called 'putting your phone on silent', but if you insist, I'll let you know!" I called up to him as I headed down the stairwell. Ten minutes later I was curled up in bed having downed a pint of water (I'd never yet had an awful hangover but I was terrified of what one would be like, so water after a night out was always a necessity). Hearing my phone buzz, I opened the text to see "I'm gonna pick up the pieces, and build a lego house...".
Letting out a giggle, I replied. "Go to sleep, mental case. All safe and curled up in bed, despite the attempts of the escaped tiger, the pirate deserters and the ninjas who all accosted me on the long, long journey across the road."
As I was about to fall asleep, my phone buzzed again. Groaning, I rolled over. "Haha, I see you're learning well from the Sarcasm Master. Goodnight, padawan." Grinning, I turned over and fell fast asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When I woke up in the morning, the first thing that struck me was how bone-dry my mouth was. Gulping down a glass of water, I silently congratulated myself on how non-hangover-ish I was feeling, dehydration aside. Shuffling back to my room, the events of last night suddenly crashed into me. Guilt struck, my stomach twisted, and I ran to the bathroom. Sitting with my head on the edge of the bath trying not to throw up, tears ran down my face. In the cold, and more importantly sober, light of morning, last night had most certainly not been appropriate.
But that wasn't the worst part. It was bad, definitely, but what was worse was that I'd broken my promise to myself. How could I have let myself take steps towards being the other woman yet again?
"That's it. No more running!" I panted slightly. I like to think I keep myself vaguely in shape through playing sports, but I'm no fitness enthusiast by a long way. Trying to cool down, I took my jacket off and put it on the bench. "Please don't let me forget my jacket - my keys are in there, if I lose them I'm not getting home tonight!" I joked to Bob. He narrowed his eyes, then reached behind me to steal my jacket. Cursing him, I dropped the ball and play-wrestled him for my jacket back. He quickly gave up, but kept his arm lying across my shoulders. Whilst we chatted aimlessly about Misty destroying the ball and the flat party we could hear across the garden, inside an epic battle was occurring between the side of my brain screaming at me to put some distance between us and the part yelling back that nothing inappropriate was happening.
Eventually it started getting chilly, so we headed up to the flat. Whilst Bob rummaged through the DVDs, I took the opportunity to lounge out over the entire couch with Misty on my stomach.
"My sofa, my dog. You should basically just move out now," I teased Bob.
"Haha, very funny. By the way, you need to move."
"Nope. Not moving. Hey, wait - you can't - argh!" I shot up just before Bob sat on my head. Although most of our friendship is based on us winding each other up, I always forget that Bob isn't afraid to take it further than I will. If I hadn't moved, I'd have a pretty squashed head right now.
"Fine! If you won't let me have the sofa, then you're being my cushion." He looked at me bemused as I lay straight back down, using his shoulder as my pillow. Immediately I started kicking myself internally for potentially crossing into inappropriate regions again, but Bob didn't seem to mind as he threw a blanket over us to stay warm and wrapped his arm around my shoulder.
In any case, the film had started and I was immediately distracted. The Phantom of the Opera has to be my all-time favourite film, musical, soundtrack - whatever aspect, it's utterly amazing. The best way I've ever found to describe it (in contrast to my usual incomprehensible mumbling and arm waving when asked why I love it so) is "the most passionate and heart-wrenching love story ever told through the most beautiful music ever written".
It was about halfway through the film when I felt his hand brush mine under the blanket. The mental battle began again, paralysing me. A minute later, his hand brushed mine again. Not looking at him, I inched my hand closer. He wrapped his pinkie slowly around mine and stroked my palm with his thumb. I could feel my entire body relaxing - despite only breaking up with Lee last week, it had been some time since I'd experienced this kind of simple, physical intimacy, the kind that doesn't expect anything back, and until now I hadn't realised how much I missed it. The screaming voice in my head briefly beaten, I promised myself that I would leave if he tried to kiss me. That would be the limit, the point when it went beyond anything purely friendly.
As the film came to an end with nothing more happening, we heard Gary coming into the flat. Sitting bolt upright as he came through the door, I probably had the worst 'don't look guilty' face ever. Weirdly, he didn't seem to notice anything, chatting with Bob for a bit before wishing us both goodnight. Maybe I was being stupid - overthinking it as I always do?
Smiling ruefully to myself, I looked over at Bob as I reached for my shoes.
"Ugh. Too late. I really need to head back to my bed."
He half-smiled back at me. "Probably a good plan. Text me when you get back safe, yeah?"
"You do realise my flat is barely two minutes from yours? And how ridiculous you're being?"
"What can I say, my mother raised me well! Text me. Or else I'm keeping you awake all night by texting you Ed Sheeran lyrics." Bob was the biggest fan of Ed Sheeran, and was on a mission to convert me too, with minimal success as of yet. Secretly, I had to admit he wasn't bad, but no way was I letting Bob know that!
"Amazingly, I can foil your evil plan with this fantastic invention called 'putting your phone on silent', but if you insist, I'll let you know!" I called up to him as I headed down the stairwell. Ten minutes later I was curled up in bed having downed a pint of water (I'd never yet had an awful hangover but I was terrified of what one would be like, so water after a night out was always a necessity). Hearing my phone buzz, I opened the text to see "I'm gonna pick up the pieces, and build a lego house...".
Letting out a giggle, I replied. "Go to sleep, mental case. All safe and curled up in bed, despite the attempts of the escaped tiger, the pirate deserters and the ninjas who all accosted me on the long, long journey across the road."
As I was about to fall asleep, my phone buzzed again. Groaning, I rolled over. "Haha, I see you're learning well from the Sarcasm Master. Goodnight, padawan." Grinning, I turned over and fell fast asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When I woke up in the morning, the first thing that struck me was how bone-dry my mouth was. Gulping down a glass of water, I silently congratulated myself on how non-hangover-ish I was feeling, dehydration aside. Shuffling back to my room, the events of last night suddenly crashed into me. Guilt struck, my stomach twisted, and I ran to the bathroom. Sitting with my head on the edge of the bath trying not to throw up, tears ran down my face. In the cold, and more importantly sober, light of morning, last night had most certainly not been appropriate.
But that wasn't the worst part. It was bad, definitely, but what was worse was that I'd broken my promise to myself. How could I have let myself take steps towards being the other woman yet again?
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