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Chapter Six

"Oh, my head," whined Charlotte, as she stumbled into the kitchen the next morning. Her normally styled blonde waves stuck up from the back of her head like straw, and her make-up was smeared around her eyes.

"The coffee's on. Looks like you need one," I chuckled, moving slowly across the room to pour her a cup and to refill my mug. One wasn't going to be enough to dilute the mixture of drinks we had thrown back the previous night.

"Did you have fun last night?" she asked, her voice broken and hoarse.

"Yeah, it was good. Glad I left when I did, though, you look like shit."

"I feel like shit," she confirmed, hanging her head in her hands as she rested her elbows on the kitchen table. "Anyway, what's up with you and the new guy? The moody guitarist you tried to soak? I vaguely remember him coming over to our table to find out where you'd gone."

Did he? Why on earth would Noah have been looking for me? Anyway, he found me in the end, didn't he? Although, I kind of wished he hadn't bothered.

"Nothing's up with me and the moody guitarist," I said with a shrug. "He was being rude to me at the bar so I tried to flip his drink, and we all saw how that worked out."

Laughing as the memory became clearer – and funnier – to us both, I placed Charlotte's mug in front of her before carrying my own to the bathroom with me. My mum had always told me off for taking drinks into the bathroom, but a soak and a second cup of coffee was what I needed right now.

As the hot water wrapped around my skin and washed away the remaining evidence of my drunkenness, my chest burned with the memory of Noah's face hovering just centimetres from mine.

I'd barely spoken more than a few words to him, so why was he stuck to my conscience like a song you can't stop humming? As the memories of what a clumsy fuck I'd been in front of him slowly crept back into my mind, I shuddered, even under the heat of the bathwater.

I must have been in there longer than I realised, lost in thoughts of Noah. As it dawned on me that the water had almost turned cold, I snapped back to reality. It was only the second day of term; I needed to be focused this year. Why was I even letting a boy get under my skin? Looking the way he did, Noah would probably be the centre of attention within a week, and then I could just blend straight back into the background and concentrate on my studies.

Opening my wardrobe, I picked out a long, loose purple shirt and my favourite pair of black skinny jeans. Then, remembering how good I'd felt in Charlotte's dress, quickly shoved the shirt back in and pulled out a tight cream sweater. My usual dab of make-up and a loose side plait later, I looked relatively fresh for the amount of alcohol we had sunk, even if I didn't quite feel it.

Yanking the front door open and stepping out, I nearly flew straight over the concrete steps thanks to a large box blocking my path, my name scrawled on the lid with black marker pen.

Bending down to open it, I couldn't help but smile as I pulled out the pink plastic hardhat and neon yellow jacket contained within.

The simple note read, 'Thought you could use these, health and safety. N.'