Table For Two

7 - Ali

What even is my luck? Who approved this series of events that led to me and Harvey sitting together, with him being very shirtless the entire time, and finding out we go to the same uni? What kind of fucked-up sense of humour does God have to think this is a fun way to do things because honey, you are not right in the head.

I don't even know what possessed me to turn round and ask if he wanted to meet up tomorrow. I mean, I was right about the hash browns. A bitch can not survive on caffeine and spite alone. But still, I must have sounded ridiculous and still drunk... even though I don't feel it anymore. I'm also trying to rationalise asking for a cup of tea. Dee knows I do that and without fail calls me a grandmother for it every damn time but sue me, I like to have a cuppa before I go to bed from a night out. Harvey didn't even really respond to that other than to make me one. It was good too.

The air is starting to cool and the stars are visible through the glow of streetlights, up in that big purple-black sky. Somewhere on the horizon, storm clouds are beginning to swell. I groan in frustration and pick up the pace, following the river up past the Bus station and under the old railway bridge and down into an underpass beneath the main road. I go left out of that tunnel and within a few minutes I'm wrestling my keys out of my back pocket as I reach my front door. I slip in as quietly as I can and up the stairs to my room.

I don't flick the light on for two reasons. The lesser one is this is my room and I could navigate blind, drunk and high. Which I have done before. The main one is the fact that the unmistakable snoring form of chunky black Rottweiler is curled at the foot of the bed and I don't wanna wake her up this early otherwise she'll want food. I discard everything I was wearing, bar my underwear and flop down into bed with my phone in my hand as I find the charger and plug it in, barely remembering to set an alarm for the morning otherwise I am going to miss my lecture for sure.

I nestle back against the pillows and almost instantly, I can feel movement on the bed as Athena, that big mass of darkness that passes for a dog, shifts around until she's led with her head on my stomach. Same as she has done since she was a puppy and a lot lighter. I let out a slight oof sound as she drops onto my torso but I chuckle and scratch her ear absentmindedly as I pretty soon just pass out into sleep.

I'm pretty sure I dream about Harvey.

I don't remember much else apart from him smiling.

I also didn't need to set an alarm because on the dot of seven in the morning I get abruptly awoken by a very insistent Athena licking my face because she wants breakfast. I splutter awake and push her big head and doggy death breath mouth away from me as I sit up and she starts grumbling and nosing me in the chest. She is such a needy bitch but I love her.

"Yeah I know. I'm up, girl." I give her a load of scritches behind the ears and I can hear her panting happily as I kiss her head before getting up and immediately regretting that decision because my head decides it wants me to experience what it is like on a goddamn Waltzer going the speed of sound. This is the one downside to going out - my hangovers are lethal. I steady myself against the bedroom wall, feeling an impatient tail batting against my legs meaning Athena is right behind me. Once the dizziness passes, we both head downstairs - one of us definitely more enthusiastically than the other.

Mum has left a note on top of some Tupperware in the kitchen - she left out lunch like when I was a kid. Ooh and leftovers in the fridge. Result. No idea why she couldn't text me but then it would have taken her ten minutes where this took her ten seconds. Athena made a low whining sound. She's super impatient now. I fill her bowl and top up her water and the moment I put her bowl down she pounces on it like she'd been dying of hunger. I make a cup of tea for myself and head back up to get ready.

It doesn't take me that long. I just take a quick shower before drying off and dressing in jeans, a faded red polo shirt and a pair of white converse and I grab my favourite jacket too just in case. My bag is still packed from yesterday so I pick it up and head out. And yes, the lunch gets left completely forgotten on the counter. My car is just a Ford KA. I call her Gladys. I don't know why. But this little blue bucket of bolts is my favourite thing in the world. There's no parcel shelf, Athena's blanket takes up the entire back bench and I sometimes have to skip third gear because of some issue with the transmission that I don't want to think about because that is going to be expensive to fix. I jump in, dump my bag on the passenger and start Gladys up. It rattles into life and I pull out of the drive.

It's fairly uneventful - save some tool driving a silver Audi estate who decided to not indicate and cut into the lane so close to my front bumper I swear there is going to be paint left behind. Cue chorus of car horn and swearing out the window. I don't have road rage. What are you talking about? The last leg is the long drive up the hill to campus and honestly there is nothing quite like it - especially when it's narrow as all hell and occasionally a double decker bus is likely going to appear around the corner at any given moment. That just adds to the fun.

Honestly though half the reason I chose this place is due to the views - the sloping fields and cows that lead up the winding road onto the campus and then as you head past the on site accommodation and the multi-coloured teaching blocks the view opens up onto a beautiful Georgian manor house and just something about that view makes me feel at home. I sigh and smile as I complete the drive to the carpark at the very top of the uni, surrounded once again by student housing. I'm early enough that the car park isn't already strained for space.

I can feel my thoughts straying back to Harvey. And breakfast. Also to the fact that it is way too bright outside. I grab a pack of ibuprofen and take two of the tablets. Yes there are several jokes about swallowing to be made there but the persistent hangover refuses to allow me to laugh at them like the filthy-minded bastard I am. It's getting towards half past eight and I sigh before grabbing my bag and leaving the car to head for class.

Eleven o'clock can't come quick enough.