My taxi driver drops me outside McDonald’s on Briggate, where Millsy is waiting for me at a table with four cheeseburgers and two large fries sitting in front of him. You’ve got to love the sanctuary that a 24-hour McDonald’s provides, even if it is still rammed with drunk people fresh out of the clubs. You’ve also got to love having a best friend who will drop everything (including a bird) to meet up with you when you’ve had a bad night, no matter what time it is.
As I approach Millsy he spots me and starts humming a song that sounds vaguely familiar, banging his hands on the table as he does so.
I sit down in front of him and wait for him to finish. He looks so proud of himself.
‘What the fuck is that?’ I ask.
‘Two cheeseburgers and large fries,’ he replies. ‘For that hangover that’s pending.’
‘Thank you,’ I start. ‘But I meant the song.’
‘Oh. It’s the Doctor Who theme music,’ he laughs.
‘Erm, not it isn’t,’ I tell him, as I struggle to peel open my sweet and sour sauce.
‘Course it is,’ he insists, taking it from the top.
‘She’s right,’ a man on the table next to us insists. He’s drunk and covered in barbeque sauce, but he’s on my side so I’m not about to whip out my rape alarm.
‘What is it then?’ Millsy asks him, annoyed.
‘It’s “The Imperial March” from Star Wars – you know, Darth Vader’s theme music,’ he informs us.
‘Erm, well I obviously don’t know because I’m not a huge geek,’ Millsy tells him, clearly irritated that someone has proven him wrong.
‘Thank you,’ I tell him.
‘You’re welcome,’ the man replies, too drunk to notice that Millsy offended him. He affectionately taps me on the nose with a chip before getting back to his meal.
‘I hate drunk people when I’m sober,’ Millsy tells me as he takes a bite of his burger.
‘You’re not exactly sober,’ I remind him, as I wipe chip grease from my nose with a paper napkin.
‘Am I ever completely sober though?’ he laughs. ‘Anyway, come on, I want to see this photo.’
When I left Greg’s place the first thing I did was call Millsy and the first thing he did was come to see me – although that might be because I told him all about it and he really wants to see the photo. I’ve been too mortified to look at it.
I unlock my phone and load up my camera roll, clicking it and turning it to show Millsy without looking for myself, instead watching his reaction.
The look on my friend’s face is one of pure elation, like I was showing him the lottery numbers and that burger in his hand was the winning ticket.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more incredible in my life,’ he half speaks/half pants in a fit of laughter. ‘Oh, God, look at it. Seriously.’
I take a deep breath and look. Were it a photo of anyone else, I imagine I’d find it hilarious too. It’s the Dalek in the background. It’s the pout on my face. It’s the look of horror in Greg’s eyes.
I shake my head, smiling gently. I do see the funny side, it’s just mortifying.
‘I’m going to have T-shirts made with that on,’ Millsy says, sipping his drink.
‘I believe that,’ I reply.
I unwrap my burger to see that whoever constructed it has drastically misfired with the cheese. As I scrape it from the paper and try to push it back inside the bread, I sigh.
‘It’s 4am and they’re rammed in here, what were you expecting?’ Millsy asks.
‘It’s not that,’ I tell him. ‘I couldn’t sleep with Greg.’
‘Damn right you couldn’t, not with that thing standing next to the bed watching you.’
I give Millsy a slight smile, but I fear my friend is only trying to make me feel better.
‘Are you telling me you wouldn’t sleep with a girl in the same situation?’
‘Mate, her best friends could be watching and I’d still be able to do it,’ he laughs. ‘But I don’t know what else to say.’
I stare at my burger, too scared to look my friend in the eye as I say the words that are on the tip of my tongue.
‘I have a crush on Nick.’
‘After a couple of sex dreams and watching him save someone’s life? Come on,’ Millsy reasons.
‘I can’t stop thinking about him. I can’t sleep with other people. I…I don’t know what to do.’
‘Look, calm your tits, OK? Let’s not overreact. You’re drunk, you’ve had a rough night. Just go home, get to bed, chill out and in the morning you’ll have forgotten all about it, OK?’
‘OK, sure,’ I reply, but I’m not convinced.