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Robin cannot remember the last time she had tequila. Early days of uni, maybe. Certainly never around Matt who always made her feel like she was some kind of wild, unattractive thing if she gets too drunk. He, of course, got pissed as much as he well pleased, and she never judged him for it.
“Tch! None of that!” Michelle insisted, as she seemed to always do whenever she sensed anyone in the group got a touch too quiet. She was already thrusting another shot at her. Her third, now, and Robin gingerly took it, and as it coursed hot through her veins, she wasn’t thinking of her ex-husband anymore.
“C’mon let’s play a game.” Michelle sat up straight, drumming her fingers excitedly on the sticky tabletop.
“You know what that is, Mitch?” said Vanessa. “Famous last words.”
They all laughed.
“No, it’ll be fine.” Michelle insisted. “It’s just us girls isn’t it? Truth or dare? What do you say?”
Ilsa giggled. “We only just met!”
“Can’t think of a better way to get to know you better, babes. You can start.” she winked at Ilsa.
“Christ,” said Ilsa, but then she sat up straighter anyway. “Go on. Dare.”
Michelle cracked a naughty grin.
“Oh, but nothing disgusting like flashing a total stranger or anything.”
“Yeah,” Michelle seemed thoughtful. “Does loose a bit of the thrill if everyone playing aren’t single. Ehm, get a selfie with that beardy bloke over there. The lonely one— but don’t ask! Just sit next to him and take a selfie.”
They all laughed.
“What if he wallops me, though?” Ilsa asked, thoughtful.
“It’s alright. Van’s got a gun.” Laughter again.
But they watched as Ilsa executed her dare perfectly. The beardy man glared at her shenanigans, but afterwards, Ilsa introduced herself. And they watched as they seemed to have a conversation and towards the end, she actually handed him his card.
“Oh, look at her go.” Michelle muttered. “Always be networking that one. She must make a killing.”
“That was awful!” Ilsa said when she came back.
“What?” Vanessa said, surprised. “That went well!”
“He told me he just saw his wife of twenty five years in bed with his best mate before heading over here.”
“Ooof. That is bad… and then you gave him your card?” said Vanessa.
“Well, I felt so bad for him, disturbing his peace like that. I offered a pro-bono consult.”
“Sounds to me his luck is already turning, getting in the books of a shit-hot lawyer like yourself! Okay, who’s next?” said Michelle.
“I think you should go, seeing as this is your idea.” Robin pointed out, downing another shot.
“Okay, truth.”
“I got one—” Vanessa offered up immediately. “Did you really have sex with Carver?”
“Carver!” Robin exclaimed, making such a violent face of disgust that all three of them laughed. Even Ilsa knew who DCI Carver was.
“That Uncle Dursley-looking pig?” Ilsa exclaimed, also looking disgusted.
But Michelle only rolled her eyes. “Is Wardle still putting that about? No! But he is in love with me, though. It’s why he left me alone for the most part.”
“Yeah, that’s why we thought maybe there was something, because that prick rides everyone’s arse except yours!”
Michelle shrugged. “Can’t help it if I’m beautiful.” Everyone laughed. “Rob, your turn.”
“Okay, but can it not be Cormoran related?” Ilsa’s eyes grew wide even at the initial mention of her friend. “It’s just that, we work together… and Michelle, we work with you—”
Michelle was shaking her head at this. “No, babes. We’re having a laugh. If you don’t want to be asked about Cormoran, pick dare.”
She didn’t want to do a dare, but she also didn’t want to be put on the spot about Cormoran. “Fine. Dare.”
“Dare you to ring Cormoran to pick you up.”
“I may actually hate you.” Robin dead-panned at Michelle. Vanessa was only laughing, Ilsa looked fit to burst with excitement.
“I said if you didn’t want to be asked about Cormoran, never said anything about not being dared about Cormoran.” Michelle shrugged, winking at her.
“Oh, didn’t know we were playing by primary school rules.” Robin retorted. And then, more earnestly. “It’s midnight and he’s probably asleep.” she makes this sound like she just doesn’t want to be a nuisance, even though in her drunken state she was aware that he’ll probably come to her if she asked because he’s just that type of guy and is actually worried about him not getting enough sleep.
“Them’s the rules, babes. You’ve been dared.” Michelle insisted.
“No, just truth I think. Or a different dare.” Robin suggested, even though she knew her mates won’t find any pleasure if they can’t tease her about Cormoran.
“Oh! He’s awake!” Ilsa was thrusting her phone at her. Robin blinked at it before seeing a text exchange. Ilsa, the lawyer, butchered ‘Are you awake?’ and Cormoran’s reply was a curt: No.
“Says here he isn’t.” Robin dead-panned.
“Go on, Rob! If you don’t want him to come rushing here, just give him a ring. I dare you to ask him what he’s up to.” Vanessa insisted.
Rolling her eyes and huffing, she took her phone and glared at her friends, found Cormoran’s number on her contacts. She could’ve hit speed dial, or typed in his number (which she knew by heart) but why give them the satisfaction?
He picked it up before the second ring, and Robin tried to calm her excitement. He was already holding his phone! Ilsa just texted him! he also replied instantly to her!
“This isn’t Ilsa, is it?” Cormoran’s growly voice spoke on the other end and Robin suddenly missed him.
His voice was loud enough that the rest of the table heard. Ilsa, sniggering.
“No, it’s me.”
“Hi, Robin.” he said, his voice immediately softer. The way her friends knotted their eyebrows, she knew they couldn’t hear anymore. “Having fun?”
Her eyes were still on her friends, whose eyes were bulging at her with excitement. “A little bit.”
And then silence. Like neither of them knew what to say. Robin tried to recall the last time they ever rang each other for no reason, and Robin thought that has never happened before. “What are you up to?”
Ilsa’s mouth gaped as though Robin just propositioned Cormoran in front of her.
“Er…” he started. And Robin heard him grunt, as though he had pulled himself up, and it made her blush thinking he might’ve been lying in bed, talking to her. “Just… reading.”
“Oh. Uh, happy reading!” she said, and then hung up.
“Jesus fuck,” Michelle exclaimed as though bewildered. “What is this, a night out with the girls or a tween slumber party? Happy reading? For that, you need to take a shot.”
Robin didn’t protest, feeling like she needed some liquid courage after that bizarre exchange.
“Van, truth or dare?” Michelle said, moving on from her now. Vanessa picked truth and when asked the weirdest thing about dating a forensics guy, she said Oliver once asked her to get in one of the cadaver slabs which was sufficiently weird enough that they thought they ought to quit while they were ahead.
Not the drinking, though.
The drinking they kept doing.
Until last call and they all tried-and-failed to keep a straight face when Ollie came to pick up Vanessa. And then Michelle’s outrageously handsome husband also arrived, offering to give her and Ilsa a lift, to which they both declined.
“Nicky and I can drop you off,” Ilsa offered. “Your flat’s not too far from our house.”
“That’s okay,” Robin smiled. “Uber’s ten minutes away.” She also didn’t feel like being the third wheel, her drink hitting her differently now as the noise and female friendship dwindled.
To her dismay, she realised she accidentally ordered an Uber Pool, her ride picking up a host of other people before it reached her destination.
Drunk and alone now, feeling lonely witnessing her friends with their partners, she wished there was someone also to pick her up. Someone who would’ve been glad that she had fun. Who wouldn’t have resented if she drank a bit too much, if she insisted on staying out a bit too late, who’d take care of her in this state of emotional neediness. Someone who’d put her in a warm bath, or hold her hair as she puked, or give her breakfast in bed tomorrow when she nursed her hangover instead of a husband who would punish her with noise and disapproval and judgment as though she’s some alcoholic.
“Ready to go?”
She looked up and had to blink a few times before accepting what she was seeing was real.
“I thought you were reading.”
Cormoran shrugged. “Wasn’t a very good read.”
“You didn’t have to.” she was looking up at him as he stood in front of her, in a cozy sweater and jogging pants as though he had been in bed and went out of his way to pick her up.
“I know.”
He held out a hand. She clasped it and used it to pull herself up to standing.
She pulled her to walk ahead of him, and she could feel how close he was walking right behind her, ready to keep her steady in case she wobbled or tripped, or fainted. He opened the door for her, and felt him grip her waist as she miscalculated a step down to the curb.
He opened the car door for her, and she let out a little laugh when he put a large palm over her head, gentle, to make sure she doesn’t bump it against the edge of the car.
“Did you have fun?”
“Whot?” she asked, surprised, her voice thick. “Oh, yeah.” she smiled. “Ilsa somehow got a new client tonight after a dare.”
Cormoran grinned to himself, eyes on the road. “Sounds like Ilsa. I watched her give a florist some legal advice during her wedding.”
Cormoran’s left hand was on his thigh. She squeezed it. “Thank you, Cormoran. This means a lot.”
He squeezed back. “My pleasure.”
It gave her a frisson of excitement, that he said it was his pleasure.
When they arrived at her place, she felt a little wobbly on her feet, but she didn’t feel his touch, just walking closely behind in case she needed any assistance. She dug through the handbag in her hand for keys before groaning morosely and slumping against the door.
“What’s wrong?” Cormoran asked, surprised and worried.
With a hint of drunken whininess, she exclaimed, “This isn’t my bag!”
“It’s not your—?” Cormoran took it from her and then through an amused snigger he said, “This is Michelle’s.”
“I know! Ugh! I’m so tired.” she sighed as though deeply dejected. The alcohol didn’t sit well with her at all.
“Let’s ring Max.”
She whimpered. “He and Wolfy went away for the weekend.”
“Okay, c’mon.” he said, hand again to hers, pulling her from her sad slump against the front door. “Let’s get you a place.”
“Hazlitt’s?” she asked, suddenly interested.
He chuckled. “I was thinking Travelodge, but we can take you to Hazlitt’s if you want.”
“Oh, not much fun nursing a hangover at Hazlitt’s as a business partner.”
“I can pay for it.”
“Oh, Cormoran!” she said, touched and disapproving that he’s spending time and money on her when he didn’t have to. “You really don’t have to. If you’ve got the camp bed—”
“I don’t think you’d like waking up in the office.” he pointed out. “Very depressing, I’ll tell you that.”
“Yeah.” she sighed. And then, with the alcohol whittling her defenses down to nothing, she said. “I could kip at yours? On the couch?”
She wanted him to say yes, realising she doesn’t want to be alone tonight at all. She’d sleep on the sidewalk if someone—Cormoran—would be there with her.
She was only watching his face as he took his time thinking this over.
“I’ll take you to Hazlitt’s.” he insisted, and Robin felt the rejection as plain and clear as if he had said to her face, ‘I don’t like you like that.’
“Just the Travelodge.” she gulped, looking out the window.
So they went to the Travelodge, Cormoran walking her to her room. No talking anymore. Robin felt heavy with drink and a more ineffable sadness. How could her night have started out so fun and lively and end this way?
He even went inside with her, and upon sight of a toilet she felt her stomach churn so violently, she thought she’d be sick on the carpet. She bolted for it, kneeling over the toilet and heaved.
She felt him bundle her hair in his gentle hand, holding it out of the way as she vomited, which can’t be sexy. Moot point now, after him rejecting the idea of her sleeping at his place. But still she was glad that she wasn’t alone.
“Feel better?” he asked, as he helped her up to standing once she was done. She nodded, hand over her mouth, feeling indeed better as she brushed her teeth and Cormoran left her to it.
She thought he left, but when she stepped out, face washed and breath smelling minty as though nothing happened, he was hovering to one side of the bed, placing a clean waste basket beside it, the small table already set with piping hot tea.
“Sleep on this side, and on your back, yeah? So if you need to throw up anymore—”
“Oh god,” she protested, embarrassed.
He chuckled. “I’ve seen worse.”
“Doesn’t feel like it,” she said, sipping her tea. “Feels like I’m drunk on behalf of the whole of London tonight.”
“I don’t doubt it. I thought tequila shots were for uni co-eds in Cancun for Spring Break.”
“Ha. Ha. I’m old, I get it.”
He made a face. “I always have a decade on you, so no old jokes from me.”
“Thank you, Cormoran. Really.” and then, “You’re a good friend.”
He only smiled at that and stood up, bent to kiss the top of her head. A first.
“Better head, Robin. You get some sleep.”
Without waiting for her reply, he headed for the door.
“Cormoran,”
He turned around, the look on his face— as though she’d already said what she was going to say. “Yeah?”
“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“Okay.”
When they got under the covers, she was down to her bra and pants and he in undershirt and boxers and whatever they were to each other at that moment, they weren’t lovers nor business partners.
Once they were settled, it was alcohol who made the first move, snuggling against his embrace and opening her mouth to him in their very first kiss. It lasted for a very long time, and after, Robin heard Cormoran sigh. “Go to sleep, Robin.”
And so she did.
When she woke up, they were no longer touching. He was laid on his back, already awake and deep in thought, eyes to the ceiling.
“Morning,” she mumbled, her head throbbing.
His whole body turned to face her. “How are you feeling?”
“Like someone has a chisel to my skull.”
He smiled. “Do you want breakfast?”
“I want a minute.” she sighed.
“Okay.” and he moved to get off the bed, but she threw her arms over his shoulder and buried her face against his chest.
“Gimme a minute.”
“Oh, Robin.” he sighed, too, wrapping his large arms around her and they stayed like that for longer than a minute. “What do you remember from last night?”
She pulled away to look at him looking at her and said, “Everything.”
And that’s when he bent his head to capture her mouth in his.
It felt good. All of it. Her head was killing her and her body felt like a flattened pancake, but other than that she felt so good. His embrace was firm and his lips were soft. He smelled of skin with a faint hint of smoke.
When they pulled away for air, she said, “Thanks for taking care of me last night.”
He smiled at that, eyes on his gentle fingers swiping her hair off her face. “Any time.”
And she burrowed her face against him again, thinking that she wants this for the rest of her life: this early morning intimacy of being held especially when she feels poorly.
She felt him shift, stretching to get something from the end table on his side. It was the room service menu. She giggled as he read her the breakfast options, planting soft kisses on his jaw as he spoke. She could also feel the large hand of the arm cradling her resting somewhere above her bum and she found that she liked that. Missed it, even, the intimate touch of someone she wanted touching her like that.
She pulled up to hover over him, disturbing his very serious perusal of the menu. And she asked, because she had to ask: “Is this happening?”
He smiled, nodding. “Yeah, I think it is.”
“Then I’ll have the oatmeal.” she winked.