I wake up slowly as the smell of toast fills my nostrils, hunger striking me the second it registers.
‘Morning, bro,’ Danny says brightly. As nicknames and terms of endearment go, I should take issue with this one more than any of the others, but this one feels special, personal…ours. ‘Sleep well?’
‘Like a baby,’ I reply, stretching out, unfazed by the fact I’m completely naked.
‘Funny, I didn’t hear you wake up to cry every hour,’ he jokes and I laugh sarcastically. ‘Breakfast in bed is served.’
Danny places a plate of toast in front of me before hopping in bed next to me with his own plate. He clicks the TV on and starts eating.
‘Don’t worry about the calories; you burned plenty last night,’ he jokes. ‘So when you key what you’re eating into your weird little app, factor that in.’
I laugh. Actually, I haven’t keyed anything I’ve eaten into my app in days. It just didn’t seem important now I’m not trying to be what Will wants me to be.
I swallow my first mouthful.
‘This is lovely, thank you,’ I say, sipping the cup of tea that I’ve just noticed sitting next to me.
‘You’re welcome,’ he replies. ‘I wanted to get up before you and go out and get bread so I could surprise you. I even bought jam.’
‘I noticed.’
‘Well, I didn’t buy it, technically I stole it from someone’s room service tray on my way back to the room, but it’s the thought that counts, right?’
‘Right.’ I laugh.
We finish our breakfast as we watch TV. Checkout is in an hour, but neither of us is rushing. Today we’re headed for London for our last night before it’s back home and back to reality.
‘Last night happened, right?’ he asks, his eyes fixed on the TV.
‘It did,’ I reply.
‘Always knew there was a nymph inside you, just dying to get out,’ he teases. ‘So, what now?’
‘Now, nothing,’ I reply. ‘Don’t worry about it. It was good, but I get it.’
‘OK,’ he replies with a smile. ‘Let’s just have fun today and figure things out as we go along.’
‘Sure,’ I reply.
‘I picked out your outfit for today,’ he tells me, nodding towards a pair of denim cut-offs and a top hanging up on the wardrobe.
‘I’m not sure having a man pick out my outfits is wise,’ I tell him, last night with Jackson still playing on my mind just a little. ‘I don’t want to attract the wrong kind of attention.’
‘All that matters is that you dress for you,’ he tells me. ‘Any lad who was raised right won’t give you the wrong kind of attention and any that do, you don’t want anything to do with those guys.’
‘You’re right,’ I reply, climbing out of bed, grabbing my outfit and taking it into the bathroom with me. My bun must have fallen out over the course of the night, and I look in the mirror and observe that my hair looks awful, but I don’t care. It’s ‘bed hair’, and that’s a look, right? Mine is just very legitimate bed hair. There’s no time for a shower now. I’ll just have to wait until I get to London to smarten myself up. I hop into my outfit and admire myself in the mirror. My messy hair seems to work with my shorts and my off-the-shoulder top, so at least people might think I’ve done this on purpose. I put on some make-up – more than I used to, because I liked the way it looked last night, although I’m not sure I apply it as well as the girl at the salon did.
Still, when I walk back into the bedroom, Danny takes a break from blindly flinging things into our suitcases to wolf whistle.
‘Look at you,’ he says, pulling me close.
‘I look rough,’ I tell him.
‘You look perfect.’
‘I think I’m a few plastic surgery procedures off perfect, but thank you.’ I laugh.
Danny moves his face towards mine, but I wiggle free from his grasp.
‘No, no. We need to get a move on.’ I laugh. ‘If we miss checkout, they’ll bill Will for another night.’
‘Stop trying so hard for people who don’t give a fuck about you,’ he tells me. ‘Let him get fined. Let’s be honest, bloke’s got a shitload of bad karma heading his way – what’s paying out a 150-pound fine, or whatever?’
I shoot Danny a look.
‘OK, fine, fine.’ He laughs. ‘To the Bug-mobile!’
As we head for the door with our bags, and only minutes to spare, Danny notices that he’s forgotten to pack the toaster.
‘Just leave it,’ I insist, safe in the knowledge it was cheap, and that we probably won’t need it.
‘What?’ he asks, shocked. ‘Where’s your sentimental value? That’s not just any toaster, it’s our toaster. It’s the one that got you through food poisoning, the one we used to celebrate easing the sexual tension we’d spent weeks building up. This toaster is special.’
I laugh. ‘OK, fine, just…where are we going to put it? My new clothes are taking up all the spare room we had.’
‘I’ll just carry it,’ he insists.
‘Danny, you can’t just carry a toaster.’
‘Why not?’
‘What will people think?’
‘Who cares what people think?’ he laughs, picking it up. ‘Come on.’
As I follow Danny through the hotel with his toaster under his arm, I am in awe of just how few fucks he gives, and it occurs to me that maybe that’s why he’s such a happy person. Perhaps happiness is synonymous with not worrying about what people think of you, because you’re free to do whatever brings you joy without the burden of how being judged will make you feel.
‘Good morning,’ he says to an elderly lady who is staring at him with her mouth open. ‘Toast?’
‘Oi, keep walking,’ I tick him off, suppressing my laughter.
We load our stuff into the car before getting in ourselves, Danny slapping me on the arse as I climb over the driver’s seat first.
‘We’ve clocked some miles this week,’ Danny says. ‘It’s funny, I never would have thought it possible to cover so much ground and fit everything in, but thanks to Will’s anal itinerary, it’s all gone according to plan.’
‘Planning, lying, being a wanker – he’s a man of many talents,’ I say bitchily.
Danny sucks air through his teeth playfully. ‘I’m still not bored of hearing you swear.’ He laughs. ‘Anyway, my phone says we’ll be there in a couple of hours.’ Danny places it on the dash-mount. ‘Kensington,’ he observes. ‘Old Will was pushing the boat out, huh?’
‘I guess he was,’ I reply.
‘Right, well, to London,’ he bellows. ‘And today’s musical accompaniment: the soundtrack from The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.’
‘Nerd,’ I say to myself. ‘Such a huge, huge nerd.’
‘Hey, there are two kinds of people in the world,’ he starts, adopting what I imagine is a cowboy voice. ‘Those who think The Good, The Bad and The Ugly is the greatest film ever made, and those who are wrong.’
I stare at him blankly.
‘OK, let’s go.’ He gives in. ‘Let’s go see what kind of damage we can do to the capital.’