Read Online The Saving of Benjamin Chambers (The Uni Files) by Anna Bloom - Free Book Online
Authors: Anna Bloom
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A Shaky Start
I don’t need to open my eyes to know that there is something not quite right.
It’s not the taste in my mouth that leaves me to believe I may have eaten road kill during the night, and washed it down with eight pints of Stella.
It’s not the pounding headache working its way around my brain, much like the heavy bass Dave churns out on stage. Although that does hurt, too.
No, it is worse than all of the above.
Cautiously, very cautiously, because I know it’s going to be bad, I open one eye.
Yeah, it’s bad.
Just as I thought, there is a girl lying on her side next to me in my bed and she is staring at me with avid attentiveness. I think she may have been staring for a while.
She also has my dick in her hand, which is a) embarrassing, and b) uncomfortable because nature is calling and it is calling loudly.
“Hi,” she says, her voice low and breathy.
“Uh, hi.” Small talk with women I don’t know is hard at the best of times let alone in the intimate position we are currently in.
This is the exact reason why I stay away from girls as much as possible. I never have a clue what to say to them the next day. It’s okay when we meet and normally both parties have had a fair few drinks and it’s normally okay during the inevitable act itself that follows the said few drinks. It’s the next morning of sobriety and painful hangovers and stilted conversation that I don’t like.
This is why, compared to the rest of the band, I live like a monk. A guitar-playing monk. If there is such a thing.
Dave, Mondeo-Man, and Trav think it’s very amusing that I normally scurry away from any female approach like someone has set a fire under my arse.
I find running away safer because otherwise this happens and I wake up next to a girl who thinks she is going to be my girlfriend. Girlfriends aren’t something that I do.
“Any chance you can release your death grip so I can get up?” I ask.
Awkward.
She gives a giggle and releases the excruciating hold she has on me.
I scramble out of bed and grab for my jeans on the floor. Safely covered, I head over to my drawers and grab a T-shirt out of the top drawer.
I know she is watching me so I keep my back purposely turned. ’It’s not that I am trying to be rude. I would never do that. It’s just that I am trying very hard to remember her name, which for the moment has completely escaped me.
Katherine? Caterine? Kaylie?
Damn it, why can’t I remember?
Then I recall the eight pints of something or other I put away last night and realise why I can’t remember small details, such as the name of the girl that I seemingly slept with.
“It’s Caitlin”.” She sits up in bed and throws the duvet back. No shame whatsoever. Just go-for-it brazen nakedness, which puts me on the furthest edge of uncomfortable.
“I know.” Well, duh.
“Ben, you don’t have to act all coy with me. I know your deal. It’s not like we have not been here before,” she says with a borderline evil laugh. She slides out of the bed and slowly stretches in front of me.
I stare at her. Her face only. And try to work out why I feel like I know her so well. The stabbing pain in my head and bleary vision is doing nothing to help matters. I try to focus on her sharp features and catlike eyes and then it clicks.
Caitlin, the bartender from our local pub.
Oh dear, very awkward. Then I register her last comment.
What does she mean ‘been here before?’ I don’t have any recollection of us having been somewher e together before, nor do I recall us having a naked conversation before. The arch of her knowing eyebrow tells me that this is indeed the case. I can’t question her, though, because then she would know for sure I don’t recall having sex with her. Twice.
I ask a different question instead.
“What do you mean, you know my deal?” I don’t really want to be hanging around talking. I want to be in the shower but I am interested to know what she thinks my deal may
I don’t need to open my eyes to know that there is something not quite right.
It’s not the taste in my mouth that leaves me to believe I may have eaten road kill during the night, and washed it down with eight pints of Stella.
It’s not the pounding headache working its way around my brain, much like the heavy bass Dave churns out on stage. Although that does hurt, too.
No, it is worse than all of the above.
Cautiously, very cautiously, because I know it’s going to be bad, I open one eye.
Yeah, it’s bad.
Just as I thought, there is a girl lying on her side next to me in my bed and she is staring at me with avid attentiveness. I think she may have been staring for a while.
She also has my dick in her hand, which is a) embarrassing, and b) uncomfortable because nature is calling and it is calling loudly.
“Hi,” she says, her voice low and breathy.
“Uh, hi.” Small talk with women I don’t know is hard at the best of times let alone in the intimate position we are currently in.
This is the exact reason why I stay away from girls as much as possible. I never have a clue what to say to them the next day. It’s okay when we meet and normally both parties have had a fair few drinks and it’s normally okay during the inevitable act itself that follows the said few drinks. It’s the next morning of sobriety and painful hangovers and stilted conversation that I don’t like.
This is why, compared to the rest of the band, I live like a monk. A guitar-playing monk. If there is such a thing.
Dave, Mondeo-Man, and Trav think it’s very amusing that I normally scurry away from any female approach like someone has set a fire under my arse.
I find running away safer because otherwise this happens and I wake up next to a girl who thinks she is going to be my girlfriend. Girlfriends aren’t something that I do.
“Any chance you can release your death grip so I can get up?” I ask.
Awkward.
She gives a giggle and releases the excruciating hold she has on me.
I scramble out of bed and grab for my jeans on the floor. Safely covered, I head over to my drawers and grab a T-shirt out of the top drawer.
I know she is watching me so I keep my back purposely turned. ’It’s not that I am trying to be rude. I would never do that. It’s just that I am trying very hard to remember her name, which for the moment has completely escaped me.
Katherine? Caterine? Kaylie?
Damn it, why can’t I remember?
Then I recall the eight pints of something or other I put away last night and realise why I can’t remember small details, such as the name of the girl that I seemingly slept with.
“It’s Caitlin”.” She sits up in bed and throws the duvet back. No shame whatsoever. Just go-for-it brazen nakedness, which puts me on the furthest edge of uncomfortable.
“I know.” Well, duh.
“Ben, you don’t have to act all coy with me. I know your deal. It’s not like we have not been here before,” she says with a borderline evil laugh. She slides out of the bed and slowly stretches in front of me.
I stare at her. Her face only. And try to work out why I feel like I know her so well. The stabbing pain in my head and bleary vision is doing nothing to help matters. I try to focus on her sharp features and catlike eyes and then it clicks.
Caitlin, the bartender from our local pub.
Oh dear, very awkward. Then I register her last comment.
What does she mean ‘been here before?’ I don’t have any recollection of us having been somewher e together before, nor do I recall us having a naked conversation before. The arch of her knowing eyebrow tells me that this is indeed the case. I can’t question her, though, because then she would know for sure I don’t recall having sex with her. Twice.
I ask a different question instead.
“What do you mean, you know my deal?” I don’t really want to be hanging around talking. I want to be in the shower but I am interested to know what she thinks my deal may
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