When Nothing is Ever Simple

CHAPTER TEN

I wake up, naked, with a snoring man next to me, his boxers lying on my chest and my phone flashing with five voicemails, seven texts and twelve missed calls, all from Geoffrey. I swear and sit up in bed, grabbing the alarm clock next to me. It's ten a.m.

"Sam, get up."

"Whaa?"

"It's ten o clock. And we're in someone else's house."

"We are? No shit." His head sinks back into the pillow.

"We need to get up," I say. "And dressed," I mutter under my breath, my eyes scouring the room for my jeans. I spy them, along with my top, draped over the side of the lampshade. My bra is wrapped around Sam's neck and I yank it on. Sam wakes up with a jolt.

"What the hell is going on?"

"We went to a party at Immie's - which as far as I know is where we are now - we had three beers too many, we ended up in bed with each other, we fell asleep and now we've woken up at ten a.m, in a someone else's house with twenty angry messages from our parents. You might want to look at your phone."

"Right," Sam says, nodding slowly. "Maybe we should get dressed."

"I've already started," I say, tugging on my jeans. "The Westwoods are going to get a bit of a shock."

 "Apparently they were on a long weekend somewhere and said Immie could have a 'small' get-together."

"They'll be pleased," I say, remembering the mess in the living room and the trashed garden.

Once we're both changed, we creep across the room and push open the door, peering round. The house seems quiet but we don't want to take any chances. I do a double take when I catch sight of Matthew Simms lying passed out on the landing with Immie in a similar state wrapped around him .

"Looks like we weren't the only ones," Sam murmurs.

"Let's just get out of here before someone finds us." I drag him across the carpet and down the stairs. The door is unlocked so we slip out, not taking any notice of Sumaya Nagi who is slumped on the sofa in Immie's living room, groaning or Kevin Vaughn who is sitting at the bottom of the stairs, half-heartedly tapping away at his phone.

"You might want to get out of here," I tell him as we head out. The cool breeze is a shock when we get outside but it's also refreshing. I shake off the remnants of last night's party and slip my hand in Sam's.

"Do you think they were okay?"

"Who? Matthew, Immie and Sumaya? They were just hung-over, they'll be fine.  God, even I've got a bit of a headache and I only had two or three beers."

"Two or three?"

"Okay, maybe four," he admits.