Stay Away

do better, be better

Leah's birthday starts with her asking me why I am pretending to have been in bed this whole time. "You're sweaty," she groans, pushing my head away from her neck as I slide my body on top of hers. "Were you on the bike?" Downstairs, in her living room, there is a new exercise bike, courtesy of Peloton who have heard about my injury. As subtly as I can, I have been letting Papa's phone call from five days ago affect me. And affect me it has.

It exists adjacent to my life in London. Leah doesn't get pulled into the mix, but that often leaves her wondering why I have gone out; who I am seeing. Mostly trainers. I rotate so that it is easier to skip rest days. There isn't time to rest any longer. I need to do better; be better.

"Happy birthday," I whisper in her ear as she squirms underneath me. "Would you like your gift now or later?"

"Mm, later. You're all warmed up for me." Her voice, smooth as honey, runs down my back, goosebumps erupting on every inch of my body. Today is a good day.

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Alex Scott knocks on her door at eleven, ready to take Leah's dog, Bella, off her hands for the day while we make use of the time between now and when she has to go to her match. "Lee," she calls, impatience warranted as she hammers for the fifth time, Leah being too lazy to unfurl her legs that have trapped me on her sofa. She tugs at the blanket that covers us with reluctant urgency.

"Yeah, I'm coming. Don't get your knickers in a twist." She gets up, my lap suddenly feeling very empty. I stretch out along the cushions, warm enough under the blanket to have remained in the tank top and sleep shorts I had redressed myself in earlier this morning. Bella, whom I have agreed to coexist with despite my slight preference for cats, nudges my foot, as if telling me to be excited by Alex's appearance. I don't, because I don't really know her, and so press play on the nature documentary we have sort of been paying attention to.

I'm mid-yawn when Alex tumbles inside, having pushed Leah out of the way as if she has been guarding the entrance. She squeals, and I stiffen, feeling embarrassed. "Look at you two! God, this is the pinnacle of being loved-up and domestic. It's disgusting." Leah flashes me a somewhat apologetic smile. I untie my hair from its low, messy bun, attempting to at least hint at my resemblance to the Jaimie de Voss who appeared on last month's Elle UK.

"Hey, Jaimie loves playing house. She's my WAG today." Bella occupies Alex for a moment and Leah is too focused on the skin-prickling insect on the screen, meaning neither notice my face pale momentarily. What was adjacent is quickly combining, and I have been trying to prevent it to no avail. I swallow roughly, pretending that everything is fine. I'm not sure why I am having to fake it when nothing is really wrong, but, at the back of my mind, a little voice is screaming at me to get out of here as soon as I can. "Right, Jai? Gonna wear my shirt and all."

"I'm not putting that thing on," I reply, making Alex laugh. Internally, I yank Papa's words away from the domesticity with Leah, refusing to let his truthfulness cloud whatever this is so ruthlessly. Not when I have no time to prepare. I need them to stop including me in their conversation so that it is easier to gulp down the lump in my throat. "You have already talked me into wearing–"

"Alex doesn't need to know about that," she hurriedly interrupts, as intended. Her friend raises her eyebrows, but inquires no further, pulling Leah's attention to her dog and what she needs to do to take care of her today. I had assumed Alex knew all of this from having cared for Bella numerous times, but maybe she wants a reminder. Or she sensed how I did not want to talk to her. I hope for the former. "Alright, Al. Let's get this sorted, and then I can get back to spending time with my girlfriend."