Skinny Jeans Have No Place On These Thighs
The Mattress
"OK, the party is over! Everyone get out!" Bridget shouts. She's going all over the house banging two saucepans together to get everyone out. If my head wasn't hurting, I may have thought it was funny.
Everyone starts to wake up and realise just how hungover they are. Quite a few of them are swearing rudely at Bridget but Bridget, as usual, doesn't seem to mind.
"Come on! Get your glad rags back on again! And for God's sake, can someone dismantle this stupid thing?" Bridget adds, arriving at the Shisha still set up in the living room. Marcus and I are sitting on the sofa beside it. When no one comes to claim it, Bridget asks Marcus to give her a hand but he just laughs and says, "Oh yeah, Bridge, like hell," and saunters out of the room, still chuckling.
I stare after him, feeling a little silly. Surely people in love didn't just walk off without explaining where they were going?
"Ella? Will you help me get this thing . . . into pieces?" Bridget asks me, trying gingerly to take it apart. It doesn't work. "What's the matter with it?!"
"Dunno," I mumble stupidly, being even less helpful than Bridget.
"What's wrong?" asks Bridget in a strained voice. She's still trying to heave the top off the Shisha.
I decide that Bridget isn't in the right mood to deal with my brand new love life so I just shrug and continue to help her in the attempt to dismantle the Shisha. I can tell Bridget is silently fuming and, now at least, I'm beginning to understand why. She doesn't want people waltzing into her house and rearranging everything, assembling strange smoking devices in the front room, snorting substances all over the place and, most importantly, she doesn't want people to have sex in her own bed. Or to walk in on it.
Particularly when it's -
"Hi!"
Izzie walks in, smiling all over her face. I've heard of this - when you have sex, the next day you feel all happy. It's F word euphoria. I think.
Bridget looks up at her from the floor and . . . well, if looks could obliterate. Bridget gets up and stands there with her arms folded, waiting for the apology. It doesn't come.
"So, what are we doing later?" Izzie asks us both. "Except for getting screamed at by my Dad. I completely forgot to call him last night."
My tummy freezes - oh God! If Izzie's Dad tells my Mum then I am absolutely and completely, one hundred and ten per cent, royally screwed. If my Mum knew I was anywhere near this sort of party, she would be mad beyond insanity!
"Got anything planned, Bridge?" asks Izzie, ignoring the numb look on my face. "That was an amazing party by the way. Wasn't it, Ella?"
"Uh . . . yeah," I agree, wondering what my Mum would do if she found out I'd spent all night kissing an eighteen year old boy!
"Oh I don't know Izzie," says Bridget, narrowing her eyes. I don't know what my Mum would be angrier about - the boy or the cocaine! "Clearing up the house. Picking up the broken glass. Washing my SHEETS?!"
Izzie looks rather surprised about Bridget's reaction.
"How could you have sex with that guy in my bed?" Bridget demands, her hands now on her hips.
"How could you have sex with someone?" I mumble, not quite brave enough to say it louder.
Izzie still hears it though but other than glancing briefly at me, she ignores it. Her argument is with Bridget.
"I know it's a little weird - " begins Izzie but Bridget cuts her off instantly.
"A LITTLE weird? Oh honey, you don't know the meaning of the word!"
"Look, you're making too big a deal out of this!"
"Well someone should!" Bridget snaps crossly. "You just had sex with a guy you didn't even know. And you didn't even have enough respect for me to do it on the floor - "
"God, Bridge, the bed was right there! I couldn't tell him we had to move it onto the floor? That's ridiculous!"
"No - what's ridiculous is your lack of common sense!"
"Oh give it a rest will you Bridget? What do you want me to do? Go back in time and not do it?"
"I'll tell you what I want you to do," says Bridget steadily. "I want you to go upstairs, get that person out of my bed and then buy me new sheets."
"Wow!" Marcus then pops his head around the door quickly and gabbles, "Hey Bridget, if I were you, I'd try and wangle a new mattress too. Because either that girl was a virgin or it was the wrong time of the month to be getting it on!"
He laughs and then closes the door. I don't know who looks angrier. But then, Bridget clears that up for me by lifting the Shisha over her head and smashing it down onto the floor.
I wonder how much mattresses cost?
Everyone starts to wake up and realise just how hungover they are. Quite a few of them are swearing rudely at Bridget but Bridget, as usual, doesn't seem to mind.
"Come on! Get your glad rags back on again! And for God's sake, can someone dismantle this stupid thing?" Bridget adds, arriving at the Shisha still set up in the living room. Marcus and I are sitting on the sofa beside it. When no one comes to claim it, Bridget asks Marcus to give her a hand but he just laughs and says, "Oh yeah, Bridge, like hell," and saunters out of the room, still chuckling.
I stare after him, feeling a little silly. Surely people in love didn't just walk off without explaining where they were going?
"Ella? Will you help me get this thing . . . into pieces?" Bridget asks me, trying gingerly to take it apart. It doesn't work. "What's the matter with it?!"
"Dunno," I mumble stupidly, being even less helpful than Bridget.
"What's wrong?" asks Bridget in a strained voice. She's still trying to heave the top off the Shisha.
I decide that Bridget isn't in the right mood to deal with my brand new love life so I just shrug and continue to help her in the attempt to dismantle the Shisha. I can tell Bridget is silently fuming and, now at least, I'm beginning to understand why. She doesn't want people waltzing into her house and rearranging everything, assembling strange smoking devices in the front room, snorting substances all over the place and, most importantly, she doesn't want people to have sex in her own bed. Or to walk in on it.
Particularly when it's -
"Hi!"
Izzie walks in, smiling all over her face. I've heard of this - when you have sex, the next day you feel all happy. It's F word euphoria. I think.
Bridget looks up at her from the floor and . . . well, if looks could obliterate. Bridget gets up and stands there with her arms folded, waiting for the apology. It doesn't come.
"So, what are we doing later?" Izzie asks us both. "Except for getting screamed at by my Dad. I completely forgot to call him last night."
My tummy freezes - oh God! If Izzie's Dad tells my Mum then I am absolutely and completely, one hundred and ten per cent, royally screwed. If my Mum knew I was anywhere near this sort of party, she would be mad beyond insanity!
"Got anything planned, Bridge?" asks Izzie, ignoring the numb look on my face. "That was an amazing party by the way. Wasn't it, Ella?"
"Uh . . . yeah," I agree, wondering what my Mum would do if she found out I'd spent all night kissing an eighteen year old boy!
"Oh I don't know Izzie," says Bridget, narrowing her eyes. I don't know what my Mum would be angrier about - the boy or the cocaine! "Clearing up the house. Picking up the broken glass. Washing my SHEETS?!"
Izzie looks rather surprised about Bridget's reaction.
"How could you have sex with that guy in my bed?" Bridget demands, her hands now on her hips.
"How could you have sex with someone?" I mumble, not quite brave enough to say it louder.
Izzie still hears it though but other than glancing briefly at me, she ignores it. Her argument is with Bridget.
"I know it's a little weird - " begins Izzie but Bridget cuts her off instantly.
"A LITTLE weird? Oh honey, you don't know the meaning of the word!"
"Look, you're making too big a deal out of this!"
"Well someone should!" Bridget snaps crossly. "You just had sex with a guy you didn't even know. And you didn't even have enough respect for me to do it on the floor - "
"God, Bridge, the bed was right there! I couldn't tell him we had to move it onto the floor? That's ridiculous!"
"No - what's ridiculous is your lack of common sense!"
"Oh give it a rest will you Bridget? What do you want me to do? Go back in time and not do it?"
"I'll tell you what I want you to do," says Bridget steadily. "I want you to go upstairs, get that person out of my bed and then buy me new sheets."
"Wow!" Marcus then pops his head around the door quickly and gabbles, "Hey Bridget, if I were you, I'd try and wangle a new mattress too. Because either that girl was a virgin or it was the wrong time of the month to be getting it on!"
He laughs and then closes the door. I don't know who looks angrier. But then, Bridget clears that up for me by lifting the Shisha over her head and smashing it down onto the floor.
I wonder how much mattresses cost?
♠ ♠ ♠
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