The Strokes: ‘Last Nite’
‘D’ya want another beer?’
‘Yeah, thanks.’
Erin watched as the girl she’d only met a few minutes ago – Erica, maybe? – threaded her way to the bar where teenagers stood three-deep waiting to buy pints of watered-down lager at £1 a pop. It was Fresher’s Week at Nottingham University and a group from the student accommodation they’d been housed in had come to the union for a few drinks with the aim of either making new friends (Erin’s case) or getting off with someone (almost everyone else’s). Erin knew she’d already been marked out as different because she had a boyfriend – at least one she wasn’t planning to cheat on. Leaving Adam to come here had been such a wrench she’d almost changed her mind about coming to university altogether, but despite the fact she felt as though she had a limb missing, she was glad she was here now. This felt like the start of a new era. Adam had promised to come and visit the following week when he’d finished touring, and she was sure he’d be true to his word, so at least she had that to look forward to. Besides, being unavailable definitely made life easier. The girls liked you more because you were no competition, and it was easy to talk to boys without the worry of impressing anyone.
Erin sat for a moment, nursing the dregs of her pint and studying the room. It was huge, the union bar, built for practicality rather than style. Foam burst from rips in the fake leather seating, unidentifiable stains marked plastic tables, the bar was sticky, the carpet rough around the edges and the music thumpingly loud – and she loved it.
She was startled by a movement at her side.
‘Hello,’ said a voice and she turned to find a handsome man sliding into the seat next to her, placing a full pint on the table. His sandy hair was slightly long, and he had a classically handsome face, like a Disney prince, all strong jaw and big blue eyes. His style was the opposite of Adam’s carefully curated scruffiness and dark good looks.
‘Hi,’ she replied.
He held out his hand and when she shook it his palm felt warm and soft. ‘I’m Greg.’
‘Erin.’
‘I know.’ She must have looked at him quizzically because he smiled sheepishly and said ‘I’m two doors down from you and I saw you moving in.’
‘Ah gotcha. Well, it’s lovely to meet you.’
‘You too. Can I get you another beer?’ he asked, indicating her empty glass.
‘Someone’s getting me one now – I think,’ she said, peering at the bar where she could see Erica was finally at the front of the queue. She appeared to be simultaneously ordering drinks and snogging the face off the boy next to her. Erin admired her skills.
An awkward silence descended, then Erin said, ‘So what do you do?’
‘Ah, classic student talk, eh?’ Greg replied, smiling to let her know he was only teasing. ‘Sports Science, although God only knows what I’m going to do with that. Probably end up working behind a desk somewhere. How about you?’
‘Psychology.’
‘Oh that sounds cool. So does that mean you know what I’m thinking right now?’
Erin laughed. ‘I’m a psychologist not a psychic.’
‘Well that’s a relief.’ He grinned and she couldn’t help noticing how straight and white his teeth were. What was she doing?
Luckily Erica’s return saved her. Her new friend was balancing three pint glasses in her hands and beer spilt all over the table as she plonked them down unceremoniously. ‘Bloody carnage up there,’ she said, beer slopping over the side of her glass and splashing onto Greg’s jacket.
‘Oh God I’m so sorry.’ She swiped ineffectually at his arm.
‘Don’t worry,’ Greg said smoothly, and held his hand out to her. ‘I’m Greg.’ Erica shook it and then turned to the boy behind her. ‘This is Mark.’
‘Mike.’
‘Ha sorry, this is Mike.’ She slid onto the stool next to Greg and Mike sat beside her and put his hand straight onto her thigh. Erin’s mind flashed to Adam, and she felt a sharp stab of regret that he wasn’t here with her. She thought about the last time she’d seen him, more than a week ago when they’d said goodbye on the bench on the Common. She’d been sobbing uncontrollably, and he’d held her in his arms and she’d never wanted to let go. Stop it; she mustn’t think about that now.
She turned back to Greg and plastered a smile on her face, determined not to let the fact she was missing Adam ruin her chances of making some new friends.
‘Let’s have a toast,’ Greg said, holding up his pint, which dripped all over the table in sticky pools.
‘What are we toasting? Erica said.
‘New friends!’ Greg said, and they clattered their glasses together, spilling even more cheap lager. For the next few minutes as the group chatted amiably, Erin studied Greg surreptitiously. He had a lovely, calming aura about him. He’d only known these people for a matter of minutes but he was already making them laugh, treating them like old friends. He reminded her of Sam, in the way he seemed to find it easy to talk to anyone. She wished she could be more like that. She tried not to notice the sparkle of his eyes, the way his hands moved as he spoke, as though he had more to say than the actual words could convey and this was the only way to express it. And she definitely didn’t notice how handsome his face was, and the fact that he kept glancing over at her every now and then.
‘Hey, this can be our song,’ Greg said suddenly, wiping froth from his top lip. ‘A reminder of the day we met.’ ‘Last Nite’ by The Strokes thumped from the speakers.
‘We?’ Erin said, snapping out of her daydream and tuning back in.
‘We,’ Greg confirmed, sweeping his arm round the table as the song went on about girlfriends and grandsons not understanding. ‘All of us.’ He gave Erin a look she couldn’t read.
‘Yes!’ Erica said, and Erin was saved the embarrassment of her misunderstanding, raising her glass once more to chink the others’.
‘To us,’ they chorused.
When Erica and Mike started snogging on the other side of the table, Greg turned to Erin, his arm resting on the back of the chair.
‘So, Erin-who-can’t-read-minds. Tell me about yourself.’
‘What do you want to know?’
He shrugged. ‘Where are you from? What music do you like? Do you have a boyfriend…’ He trailed off, his face hopeful.
‘Ah, right. Yes, I do,’ she said, and tried to ignore his look of disappointment.
‘Right.’ He gave a small nod and took a sip of his beer. ‘Well that’s a shame.’
She smiled back and shifted awkwardly in her seat, trying to think of a way to move the conversation onto another topic before either of them said anything they might regret.
‘He’s a musician,’ a voice piped up, and Erin turned in surprise to find that Erica and Mike had stopped chewing each other’s faces off and that, in fact, Erica must have been listening earlier when Erin had been telling her about Adam.
‘Is he now?’ Greg said, eyebrows raised. ‘What kind of musician?’
‘He’s in a band,’ she said. ‘A rock band.’
‘Oh right. Too cool for me then.’
‘Probably off shagging groupies most of the time,’ Mike said.
‘He isn’t,’ Erin said, indignant.
‘Yeah right. Course he isn’t.’
‘He wouldn’t do that,’ Erin insisted more firmly, feeling the colour rise in her cheeks and slamming her pint down onto the table harder than she intended. ‘He loves me.’
‘Well I bloody would if I was him, girls throwing themselves at me all the time. He’ll be shagging for Britain.’
‘He won’t!’ Erin yelled, the thought of Adam with someone else making her feel sick, the beer in her bloodstream making her more emotional than usual.
Greg put his hand on Mike’s arm firmly. ‘She’s said he wouldn’t do that so let’s leave it at that shall we?’ His voice was low. Calm but commanding.
Mike stared at him for a few seconds, then gave a lazy grin. ‘Yeah sure. Sorry.’ He looked at Erin. ‘He won’t be doing any of those things, I’m sure,’ he said, insincerely.
The trouble was, Mike had hit a nerve; it was all Erin thought about every night as she lay in bed, picturing Adam playing gigs in pubs and clubs. She knew girls would be throwing themselves at him, and as much as she told herself he would never cheat on her, that they loved each other too much for that, the truth was she wasn’t as secure in their relationship as she made out.
But as the night wore on she found her thoughts turning to Adam less and less, and began properly enjoying the company of her new friends. Especially Greg, she realised. Not only was he nice to look at, but he was funny, thoughtful and intelligent. He asked questions of everyone and seemed genuinely interested in the answers, and told self-deprecating stories about his middle-class upbringing. He admitted his secret love for Saturday nights in watching Casualty and how he really preferred drinking alcopops but had trained himself to like beer, and he made everyone laugh when he did a spookily accurate impression of Mr Bean. She found herself drawn to him in a way she hadn’t expected. He was, she realised, someone she could imagine getting close to, which, in the absence of Sam and Rose, was just what she needed to help get her through the weeks and months to come.
It wasn’t until much later, after they’d spent the whole evening chatting and getting to know each other and drinking too much weak lager, Greg buying endless rounds of tequila, and dancing sweatily on the sticky student union dancefloor, that it occurred to her that most girls would have been throwing themselves at this man if he’d have paid them even a fraction of the attention he’d paid her that night.
When they got back to their halls of residence, Greg lingered at her door for a moment longer than strictly necessary. Erin was certain he wanted to kiss her, and it would have been easy to have let him. Part of her wanted to. But a bigger part of her knew she could never do anything to risk losing Adam. And so she leaned forward, gave him a chaste hug with her face turned away, and let herself into her room, leaving him to go back to his own room, two doors down, alone.
As she drifted off to sleep that night, she tried not to think too much about the handsome young man she’d spent the evening talking to, and tried to conjure up an image of her gorgeous, sexy boyfriend, pushing away all thoughts of him with some other girl, in some other town.