Bridesmaids

‘Rachel, don’t be disgusting, that would be like shagging your brother!’

She shrugs. ‘Well, you never know, and he is kinda cute now he’s grown up.’

I do an eye roll. ‘So are kittens.’

‘Well, get one of those!’

‘No!’

‘Shit is that the time? I’m going to get crucified if I don’t make it before the bar shuts. I better run.’

We hug again and she half steps out, then turns and grasps my hands in hers.

‘Christ, I nearly forgot! You will be my bridesmaid, won’t you? I just kind of assumed, but say, yes, please say, yes!’ She’s crushing my fingers and jiggling about.

‘You betcha.’ She finally let’s go, so I high-five her. ‘I’d have been gutted if you hadn’t asked!’

‘Girlie night when you get back, so you can meet the others! That’s what I was planning at Jax. You are going to get such a shock when you see who they are!’

‘Really? So, I’m not your one and only.’ I do a pretend pout. ‘Who?’

‘You’ll have to wait and see, but you will be totes gobsmacked!’ She shakes her head, then suddenly whoops and claps. ‘Oh my God! Wow! I know!’ She’s got a crazy grin on her face, which is a bit scary. ‘Why didn’t I think of it earlier? Scrub Jax bar, we’ll all come to Brighton! It’ll be way more fun.’

‘Brighton?’ I stare at her blankly.

‘Brighton! Next week! Oh my God, it’ll be ace, we can all get the late train back or stay over. I’m sure they will be up for it. You are going to be so amazed!’

‘But …’

‘Oh, no, I’m ruining your love fest, aren’t I?’

‘It’s not a love fest!’

‘You’ve gone red!’

‘I always go red when I’m embarrassed.’

‘Because you’d planned a shagathon!’

‘No.’ I clamp my hand over her mouth. ‘Shhh, he’ll hear.’

‘You do fancy him though.’ She’s all muffled, but I know exactly what she’s saying. She might as well be shouting it through a loud hailer.

‘I bloody don’t. He’s just Freddie.’ I am embarrassed, I am as hot as a hot tin roof that a cat can’t stand on. ‘He’s he’s …’ Has she been in my head, seen all those rude visions of Freddie licking cream off my nipples and kissing my neck? I mean, all that doesn’t mean I fancy him in real life, nobody would ever accuse me of thinking I could have a relationship with Bradley Cooper just because I can totally see him throwing me naked onto the lid of a grand piano, are they? See.

‘You’ve gone really bright red now! I knew it!’

‘You don’t know anything! I was thinking about Bradley Cooper actually. Freddie is a friend. I don’t think of him like that!’ Which is partly true, I don’t actually think of him being like that in real life, it’s just a weird fantasy that keeps me happy. It also saves me spending hours on Tinder trying to find somebody I want to swipe right.

‘Ha!’

‘He’s not sexy!’ I might have shouted that bit. Partly to cover up the fact that the in-my-head Freddie is sexier than any man I’ve ever known. But that is because he’s the fantasy Freddie. Not the real Freddie.

‘Whatever.’ She shakes herself free. But she’s grinning. ‘So, are we on, then? Can we all come to Brighton?’

‘You can come to Brighton!’

‘That is so cool.’ She has a broad smile on her face and looks very pleased with herself. ‘Brighton rocks!’ She gives me the thumbs up and squeals.

‘How many is all?’

I don’t get an answer. She is off down the steps and slamming the front door behind her before I can object.

I stand, catching flies, then close my mouth.

There are two big issues here: 1. Michael. Michael is a very big issue. If she’s actually going to marry him, do I tell her now about his ‘transgression’, before it’s too late? I mean, what if he was lying and he’s had ‘transgressions’ before? What if she thinks I’m trying to fuck up her wedding on purpose? Or just un-asks me to be a bridesmaid, and un-friends me. In real life, not just on Facebook. And issue number 2. The (as yet unnamed) bridesmaids. Pretending I’m partay-ing in Ibiza when I’m pounding the prom in Brighton had at least a remote chance of success when only me and Freddie were in on it, but is the week really going to be leak free if there’s a big girls’ night out involved?

I turn round and Freddie is there, a strange half-smile on his face.

‘Shit, did you hear that?’

‘Some of it.’

‘Sorry, she’s mad. She’s just desperate to hook me up with another guy, God she’s so embarrassing.’ My voice tails off. Which bit did he hear? I was pretty loud when I said he wasn’t sexy. And he is. Not that I want him to know I think that, of course, but I’d be gutted if even Ron, the beer-bellied, bum hanging-out, belching builder from number 27 bellowed that down the street about me. And if I heard Freddie say it I’d be mortified.

Devastated.

‘You are, er, sexy. Very.’ I think I’m digging a hole here. ‘Lots of people think so.’

‘But not you?’ He’s smiling, but it’s tinged with something I don’t quite understand.

‘Oh, I do, too. Definitely. I just didn’t want Rach to jump to any kind of, you know, she’s about to get married and she’s all loved and thinks everybody else should be.’

‘And you don’t want to be?’

‘Not, er, right now.’ I flap the bottom of my T-shirt, hoping the fresh air will go all the way up to my face. ‘You know I don’t.’

I look at Freddie. Freddie looks at me. ‘And not with me?’

‘Well, er, if I was looking, I mean, I wouldn’t, er, put you in the “no-way” category.’ He’s frowning. ‘You’d be much higher than “no-way”. Definitely. I think maybe I should stop now before I embarrass myself. You. Both of us.’

‘I’m cool, not embarrassed at all. In fact, I’m quite intrigued about this no-way category and where I fit. Feel free to carry on.’ He grins. A proper Freddie grin.

Right now, I could just jump him, give him a smacker and tell him exactly where he sits on the sexy scale. But he’s my bloody friend, and one kiss would ruin everything for ever. On an embarrassment scale if nothing else. And, I mean, let’s face it, I’m totally in love with him as a friend, but I already know he’s not ready to settle down, don’t I? We’d be doomed. I’d be in a worse mess than post-Andy. Because at least then I had Freddie.

‘I’ll shut up. Safer.’ I need to change the conversation here, I glance round, desperate for inspiration. Then spot my case. Ha-ha! ‘We need to talk about Brighton, what the hell are we going to do about Brighton? They’re all coming!’

He shrugs, takes the one and half strides it takes to reach the sofa, and switches the TV on. Then he pats the sofa, inviting me to join him. ‘We need Mission Impossible – Tom would know what to do!’