Page 2 of Head Over Skis

Have I told you how much I love you? Xoxo

Nowhere near enough. Now go act like you still want this guy to stickhis dick in you for twenty more seconds and then you’ll be free and I’llbuy you a Jägerbomb.

I do what she says, flushing the toilet and washing my hands to keep up the ruse, then stepping out from behind the curtain. Tim is crouched next to the bed, sorting through more records. The floorboards creak as I cross them, simultaneously scanning the floor to locate my clothes in preparation for a hasty escape.

‘Ah, there you are, I’m selecting something a bit saucier. And nothing says naughty to me like Bach, don’t you agree?’

He’s sitting there crossed-legged and smiling, and I have no clue how to respond to that statement. Unsurprisingly, I can’t say I’ve ever spent much time considering which classical composers I find ‘naughty’.

‘I—’

I’m saved from having to speak by the ringing of my phone, and I try not to show how relieved I am.

‘So sorry, but I’m going to have to take this,’ I say, swiping across the screen and holding it up in front of me.

‘Hello, oh my god, Lottie are you there? I need you to come back right now, it’s an emergency!’

Tilly’s voice is high-pitched and hysterical on the other line, and I’ve never been more grateful to be best friends with a drama graduate.

‘Yes, I’m here, what’s happened?’ I ask, trying to sound a convincing mix of surprised and concerned.

‘I’ve been attacked!’

‘Attacked?’ Tim appears at my side, eyes wide. ‘By what?’

‘Uh…’ Tilly pauses, clearly not expecting Tim to get involved and ask any questions.

‘A… magpie!’

Oh lord. I take it back. Three years at drama school and that’s the best improv she can do? I bet she saw one flying outside the club. And it was probably a pigeon, but her knowledge of birds is distinctly below average.

‘A magpie?’ Tim’s face screws up and I start worrying this won’t be the slick escape I had hoped for.

‘Yes! A whole flurry of them, or is it a flock of them?’

‘A tittering,’ Tim says, and the fact he knows that doesn’t make me any more inclined to stay and sleep with him.

‘That’s it, well, one of them has pecked at my eye and I think I’ve been blinded – I need you here right now to take me to the hospital. Do magpies in London have rabies?!’

‘I’m on my way,’ I say, hanging up before she can say anything else more ridiculous. ‘Sorry, I really do need to go and help her out.’

I hurriedly chuck my white bandeau back on, shove my bra in my bag to save time and shimmy into my red mini skirt.

‘No, no, of course, go be the hero. Maj ram.’

I stare at him as I slip on my heels and throw my jacket over my shoulders, wondering if he mispronounced something.

‘It, uh, it means “good night” in Klingon. I tend to quote Star Trek when I’m nervous.’

‘That’s, um – you’re very sweet, Tim.’

I pat him on the shoulder, hoping he won’t take too much offence as I take the fastest route towards the door.

‘Maybe I could have your num—’

I don’t hear the end of his question as I speed down the stairs and push through the door to his flat, instantly hit with the cold, heavy air of London. I push my arms through my sleeves as I walk back towards the tube.

As I’m leaving the station I text Tilly to let her know I’m on my way. I’d rather not go back – as there are few things I find as intolerably awkward as clubbing – but if I get a few more Jägerbombs in me I’m sure it’ll be bearable, and I really don’t want to go back to Tilly’s flat by myself. I’m young, newly single, and it’s barely midnight on a Saturday night. I should be out, not playing solitaire on the sofa while choosing between a cup of camomile or peppermint tea.