Girl Abroad

OUR PARTY OF TWO TURNS INTO A PARTY OF FOUR AS OUR roommates crack open another bottle and proceed to empty it in five minutes flat. At some point, Jamie orders pizza, and we eat while the music plays and the wine flows. Lee forces us to play a game called “tell me a secret,” which basically just entails him demanding to know private details about our lives and then pouting each time we don’t want to spill the tea.

It’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I love it here. I love these guys and this flat and the freedom—the freedom.

It’s even more intoxicating than all the alcohol we’re consuming.

Now it’s nearing midnight, the table is littered with empty pizza boxes, and the wine’s all gone. I’m curled up in the armchair, drunk and happy. Jamie’s on one end of the couch. Lee’s on the other, swiping on his phone. Jack’s lying on the carpet, his head resting on a throw pillow as he watches soccer on TV.

“You know what, Abbs?” Jamie drawls from his perch.

“What, Jamie?” I play along.

“You’re a cool bird.”

That makes me smile. “Thank you.”

“Thought you were sort of meek when you first showed up,” he continues, his tone contemplative, words a bit slurred.

I’m miffed by that comment. “Meek?”

“Meek. Timid. Maybe a wee bit of a prude, yeah?” He’s on a roll, too inebriated to realize I’m glaring at him. “But you’re good fun. You’ve got banter.”

“Thanks?” I’m still not sure if I’m angry he thought I was a prude.

“And you’re fit,” he adds, winking at me.

“So fit,” Lee agrees, though his gaze remains glued to his phone.

His swiping finger is busy, busy, busy. Grindr, I’m guessing.

“Abbs!” he suddenly exclaims. “Come here and see this bloke.”

I go to the couch and settle between Jamie and Lee, leaning over the latter’s phone. “Oh, he’s cute.” I admire the profile pic on the screen.

“Says here he’s new to this app,” Lee says, skimming the dude’s bio. “Recently got out of a five-year relationship— ”

“With a woman,” I finish with a gasp. “Been questioning his sexuality for a while and wants to do some exploring to figure out if he’s bi.”

“Bi-curious lads are fun,” Lee informs me.

“Scroll up?” When he does, my jaw falls open, and I swivel my gaze back to Lee. “His name is George? Are you kidding me?”

“Bi George,” Jack supplies.

“Bi-Curious George,” Jamie corrects.

There’s a beat of silence and then we all hoot in laughter, because the moniker is utterly brilliant.

I watch as Lee swipes right on George. Instantly, the words It’s a Match! pop up on the screen.

“Lovely.” Satisfied, he turns to wink at me. “Third George’s the charm, right?”

“Here’s hoping.”

“I shall keep you posted on our shagging progress,” Lee promises.

“Please do.”

Jack snickers from the carpet, his gaze still glued to the soccer— sorry, football match on TV.

On my other side, Jamie stretches his legs out and watches me curiously. “Right then. What about you? Have you shagged anyone here yet? Found yourself a fuckable lad at uni?”

From the corner of my eye, I notice Jack’s gaze flit from the television to the couch.

“I’m not discussing my sex life with you,” I answer primly.

“Why not?” Jamie protests. “I’ll tell you all about mine if you’d like.”

“No need. I already hear your sex life through the walls every other night.”

He beams. “Thank you for noticing.”

At that, Jack shakes with laughter. “Don’t think she meant it as a compliment, mate.”

I lock my gaze on Jack’s. “What about you?” I challenge, mostly because he didn’t come to my rescue when Jamie started grilling me. Let’s see how he likes the hot seat. “Who are we shagging these days? Because I’ve yet to hear any sexy noises coming from your room.”

And thank God for that. Otherwise, I’d probably be weeping silently in my cereal every morning.

“Jackie boy doesn’t bring birds home,” Jamie explains. “Sleepovers are a commitment.”

“And you’re anti-commitment?” I ask him.

“Commitment’s fine,” Jack answers vaguely. “I’m just not looking for a girlfriend right now.”

“But you hook up.” I don’t know why I’m pressing him. Must be the wine.

“Yes.” He sounds amused. “I hook up.”

With who? I want to demand, but that’s too nosy even for me.

“All right! Round two of tell me a secret,” Lee announces, setting his phone down and topping up his merlot. “Abigail, you’re up first.”

“You know my name’s not short for Abigail, right?”

He gasps. “Wait. It’s not?”

“Nope. Just Abbey. Named after Abbey Road.” I stick out my tongue. “There. That’s your secret.”

“That’s not a secret,” he retorts with his trademark pout. “We want something better.”

Jamie nods. “Something dirty.”

I roll my eyes at him. “Pass.”

“Something mortifying then,” Lee suggests. “Worst sexual experience.”

“That’s still a dirty one!”

Lee’s stubborn as always. As well as very, very drunk. He waves his wineglass around so jovially I worry for our carpets. “Tell me a secret, Abigail!”

Since I’m equally drunk, I end up giving Lee what he wants and revealing an embarrassing secret.

“I slept with a guy in high school who told me one of my boobs was much bigger than the other, and now it’s all I see when I look in the mirror.”

Bad move, Abbey.

Suddenly, I have three dudes squinting at my chest. Even Jack has sat up to take a good look.

“Oh my God. Stop staring!” My cheeks are flaming.

“You brought that on yourself,” Jack says.

He’s not wrong. But still.

“I’ve got a bra on anyway,” I grumble. “You can’t see the difference unless I’m topless.”

“I agree,” Jamie says gravely. “You must take your top off so we can better assess.”

I reach over to slug him in the arm. “You’re the worst.”

“Are you really insecure about it?” Lee asks in a serious voice. Not mock serious like Jamie’s was but as if he’s genuinely upset to hear I might feel self-conscious about any part of myself.

“God, yes,” I confess. “I dated someone last year, and every time we got naked, I kept stressing about what he was thinking. Like, I can’t believe I’m having sex with the weird-boob girl.”

“Trust me,” Jack says roughly, his eyes locking with mine. “That’s not what he was thinking.”

My pulse quickens, and it takes some willpower to break the eye contact.

“Jackie’s right,” Jamie assures me. “Besides, I’d bet my entire trust fund you’re being—how do I say it nicely—crazy.”

Jack snorts.

“They can’t be that disproportionate,” Jamie adds, shrugging.

“He used the words much bigger. That implies a huge proportional discrepancy.”

“Proportional discrepancy,” he mimics. “Look at you, all articulate when you’re sloshed.”

“Let me see them,” Lee orders, once again bringing the scorch of embarrassment to my face. “I’m the obvious candidate to judge the proportions, given that boobs do nothing for me. I promise I won’t objectify you.”

“Or…and hear me out…I don’t show them to anyone.”

“I’ll do it,” Jamie volunteers.

“No,” everyone says in unison.

Lee gives me a sad look. “I can’t live with myself knowing you feel ashamed of your own body. It can’t be that glaring a difference, luv.”

“It is,” I insist.

And then, because I happen to suffer from must-always-be-right disease, I reach for the hem of my shirt.

I pause, turning to glare at the other two. “Don’t you dare look or I’m smothering you both in your sleep.”

I stand up and turn my back on everyone but Lee, who also rises. Then I take my shirt off and reach behind me to undo the clasp of my bra.

There’s a choked noise, a cross between a curse and a groan.

I growl without turning around. “Don’t you dare look, Jamie.”

“Hey, that was Jack,” he replies, sounding a bit smug.

Before I can second-guess myself, I toss the bra on the couch and give Lee a defiant stare. “Well?”

He stands in front of me, hands on hips, forehead creased in concentration, like he’s a fashion designer examining a prototype on a mannequin.

“Which one is supposed to be bigger?” he finally asks.

“This one!” I point to my right breast, betrayed that he couldn’t discern it right away.

He purses his lips and squints harder.

“See?” I challenge. “It’s bigger, right?”

“I truly don’t see it, babe. And you know me. I’d tell you if I did. I live and breathe the drama.”

I can’t argue with that. “You really don’t think one is drastically bigger?”

“Not at all. But did you know you have a freckle under your left nipple?”

Jack starts to cough.

I snatch up my bra and shirt, throwing the latter on without bothering with the former. “All right. You’ve lost your breast privileges,” I tell Lee, jabbing my finger in the air. “You took liberties. Freckle assessment wasn’t on the table!”

He howls and walks over to sling his arm around me. “I love you, Abbs. You’re the best flatmate I’ve ever had.”

After that, the excitement dies down and we start cleaning up. Despite the fact it’s one in the morning, Jamie announces he’s going out after getting booty-called by a girl in Chelsea.

I swear, that guy has so much sex I’m surprised his penis still works.

“I’m going up to bed now,” I say once we’ve collected all the wineglasses and trash.

“Me too.” Jack joins me in the living room doorway.

“Night, darlings. I’m staying up a while longer to sext with George.” Lee flops back onto the couch, engrossed by his phone within seconds.

Upstairs, Jack doesn’t turn toward his room but follows me to mine.

I glance over my shoulder. “Can I help you?” Somehow I manage to sound nonchalant even though my pulse is racing again.

Why is Hot Jack coming to my bedroom at 1 a.m.?

“I’m walking you to your room,” he says gruffly. “You drank a lot tonight.”

“I’m fine.”

“You just took your shirt off in front of Lee.”

“So?”

Our eyes lock. There it is again—the surge of heat.

We have chemistry and I think we both know it, but I don’t know what to do with it. There’s that pesky house rule, for one. But also the fact that Jack is clearly determined not to make a move. And I’m not sure I want him to. It’ll only complicate our living situation.

And yet I say, “Jack?”

“Hmm?” He’s still watching me.

“Tell me a secret.”

He’s right. I drank too much.

I almost take it back, but now he’s coming closer. Dragging a hand over the stubble on his jaw. His gaze sweeps over me. Rests briefly on my breasts, which are now perfectly outlined by my thin top thanks to my braless state. My stupid freckled nipples tighten the second they have his attention.

For a moment, I don’t think he heard the question. But then that big broad body is mere inches away as he brings his lips close to my ear.

“A secret? Hmm. Well…” His breath tickles my hair. “When you took your top off downstairs…” His voice gets dangerously low. “It got me rock hard.”

Oh my God.

Before I can even register that, he’s gone, softly closing my door behind him.