It May Rain

Chapter Three

As soon as I wake up I regret it.

Not in a 'I wish this had never happened' kind of way, but in a, 'I wish I hadn't got with this guy' kind of way. It did feel amazing to finally get laid after many, many dry months, but when the realisation hits that he's a colleague who I'm not really into, then the regret starts seeping in. I've never been one for one night stands, and I can't believe I made an exception for him.

His arm is spread over my chest, wrapped over me like a snake. I gingerly crawl out of his grasp, grab my dressing gown and roll out of bed to peer down at the scene before me.

He's lying on one side with the sheets twisted between him, his mouth slightly open as he breathes deeply and his hair is tousled over the pillow. He's got a slender yet firm body, and not the kind of guy I feel any immediate attraction to. Last night he was just a means to an end and I was in no fit state to care what he looked like naked. He may look like Clark Kent when dressed, but Superman he is not when undressed.

I will admit that he's got a classically handsome face, though, with his high cheekbones and pouty lips, and his thick head of dark hair that seems resilient to gravity. Nevertheless, he's really not my type - Hugo is doing nothing for the sober version of me.

He's breathing heavily and I'm unsure whether I should wake him just yet. I don't particularly have anywhere to be today, but I also don't want him occupying my bed for any longer than is necessary. I'm hungover and just want time alone to recover.

Would it be acceptable to wake him up just to kick him out?

He stirs in his sleep and mumbles something incomprehensible. If he's sleep talking then he's probably in the middle of a dream. With a sigh, I scuttle off downstairs and make myself a cuppa.

As soon as he wakes up of his own volition, then I'll kick him out.

***

I don't know how we ended up in the pub down the road, but here we are.

Admittedly, I wanted Hugo to go as soon as possible so I could get on and spend the weekend how I want to spend it. But when he came down the stairs nursing a sore head and looking worse for wear, and not showing any inclination of rushing back to his own house to cure his hangover, what could I have done? I could have been insistent on sending him on his way, but even I'm not that cold hearted.

Perhaps if it'd been a total stranger who I'd never see again it would have been a different story, but he's technically a colleague so there's a possibility I might see again at some point, and I'd rather not get a reputation for sleeping around at work. And least of all, become the focus of the Christmas party gossip train that's bound to get going on Monday morning, which sounds like my idea of hell.

Even though I only joined the company this summer, there's still stories going around about who slept with who in the previous years, their amorous trysts seemingly immortalised forever.

No, I'll be civil with Hugo, ask him not to tell anyone about last night, we'll part on good terms, and then we can begin to forget all about our one night stand.

"The food here is excellent. You can't beat a traditional roast dinner. I can't tell you how much I missed food like this when I was in Asia on my gap year," he says in between mouthfuls of his roast beef.

"Mmm, they do a really good job here, don't they?"

"I tell you what, I'm going to make a note of this place so I can come back."

I'm secretly praying he doesn't come back because that will only increase the chances of us bumping into each other again. But I won't try to dissuade him, because the more we talk, the longer this outing will last, and the longer it will take for him to go home.

"If you don't mind me asking, where are you from, Mae? Your accent doesn't sound like you're from around here."

"I'm from a small town/village near Stoke-on-Trent, halfway between Birmingham and Manchester."

"Really?" he grins. "That's so cool. What made you want to move down here to London?"

"Lots of reasons really. Mostly because I fancied a change, and London is one hell of a change from village life," I mumble, conveniently glossing over the gritty details.

"I bet it is! And how are you liking it down here?"

"It has its ups and downs," I sigh impatiently. I've almost finished my plate but he's only halfway through his. I resign myself to at least attempting to make small talk with him, and I can't deny that it's nice to be out having a meal with someone who actually tries to keep a conversation going, even if he sometimes doesn't know when to stop.

"You mentioned you recently came home from a gap year. What made you come back to London?"

"Ah you know, all good things must come to an end. I went all around south east Asia: Thailand, Cambodia, Laos, and the Philippines. Then I spent the last few months in Australia and New Zealand."

He then proceeds to recount his entire trip.

"And to be honest I was running out of money, so I didn't have much choice but to come back eventually and get a proper job," he concludes.

"And that's how you ended up working as an intern at Sugar Rushes?"

He chews his food for an agonisingly long time before finally opening his mouth to speak.

"Between you and me, it was the first company that I got a call back from, and the first company to offer me a job. And like I said, I needed to make money so I just took it to see where it would take me. Also, my parents are big bakers. I was practically surrounded by baking throughout my childhood. So even though it's just an internship, I really do appreciate having the opportunity to get an insight into the baking industry."

The last part sounds like a textbook answer straight from the interview handbook, but I guess he might be nervous about revealing how he doesn't give a damn about the job or baking. I've seen countless candidates give the same kind of spiel when I conduct hiring interviews.

Give it a few weeks and I bet he'll be just as disillusioned as the rest of us.