[18+] Mark just wants a quiet life. With plenty of action at work, he has no interest in bringing the drama home with him. But he does need a flatmate, and when blonde bombshell Zoe crashes onto the scene, she's more than he bargained for.
Zoe is a...
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November 2006
ZOE
Mark takes clock-watching to a whole other level. In the space of half an hour since arriving at the wake, he's checked his watch at least five times.
"We can leave whenever you want," I say to him.
"Just a few more minutes. Do you want a tea?"
A hot drink will take more than a few minutes. Considering he wasn't sure about coming to this funeral, he's reluctant to leave. Maybe there's some kind of police protocol about it, where you can't be seen to be the first one out. More likely, he isn't ready to walk away from his best friend yet. That has to be the main reason, because he has zero interest in actually talking to anyone here. We've skulked in the corners, filling the gaps in stilted conversation with people-watching.
"I'll just take a water," I tell him.
"Really?" His brow furrows as he peers down at me. "You've usually had three teas by this point at home."
The caffeine-withdrawal throb battering my temple is also reminding me of that same fact, but I don't want to force him to stay here any longer than he wants to.
"I'll have whatever you're having," I say.
With a curt nod, he spins and strides towards the bar at the back of the room. I watch as nearby eyes follow his tall, lean figure cutting through the crowds. Even in a room full of formally dressed people, he stands out, yet I doubt he even realises it.
What has made him so reserved? So keen to blend into the shadows? Guilt obviously plays some kind of role at this funeral, but every day with him is a struggle for a connection. I don't ask for much, just to know a little more about the guy I live with.
Today might help. He's leaned on me more than he'll care to admit, which is exactly why I offered to come in the first place. Bottling up emotions and suffering through them alone is a sure-fire way to spiral into a bottomless pit, and this guy already seems to carry enough darkness.
"Zoe, wasn't it?"
I tear my eyes away from the bar and onto the man who's sneaked up next to me. The smell registers before his face does, a barrage of potent cologne assaulting my nostrils. I wrinkle my nose and take a subtle step away from him as I paste on a polite smile. For some reason, Mark doesn't like this guy, and even though Mark might just be the most judgemental person I've ever met in my life, I'm not picking up massively positive vibes myself.
"Hi again, PC Wright."
He flashes me a white-toothed grin and taps the arrows on his shoulder. "Sergeant, actually, but I'll let you off."
"Sorry... I'm not that familiar with..." ...With whatever faux-pas I've clearly made there by addressing him incorrectly. It seems a tad petty given the circumstances, but what do I know? Maybe it's a big deal in the police world.
