Killing Cupid by Mark Edwards, Louise Voss Page B

but you can feel me. You open your arms and I fall into your embrace. We kiss and you run your hands down my back and you’re moaning, saying my name, oh Alex, please, I want you, and you pull me towards you, and you’re already wet, so wet, and I slide into you and . . .
    Kathy could never give you that.
     
    Thursday
     
    I’ve got a terrible headache and feel as if somebody’s removed all the blood from my veins and replaced it with sand that’s been soaked in lager and dipped in an ashtray. I’ve just read what I wrote last night before I passed out. There’s an empty vodka bottle beside the bed which I shouldn’t have bought. I can’t afford it.
    I vaguely remember going on the Web last night as well. Did I order more stuff?
    Ow… my head. Need water. More sleep. I want to write more but it hurts too much so I’m going back to bed. At least I don’t have a fucking job to go to.
     
    Afternoon. After returning to bed this morning I didn’t wake up again until four. I staggered out to the kitchen looking for water. Simon and Natalie were there. They both raised their eyebrows at me.
    ‘Have you been asleep?’ Natalie asked.
    I grunted in the affirmative.
    ‘Haven’t been on Monster.com then?’ said Si. He’d promised me that he wouldn’t hassle me about finding another job, although I’d assured him that I would do everything I could to find one quickly. He was actually really good about it when I told him I’d been sacked. He said he could cover the rent for a month until I found something new. So I don’t know why he suddenly started going on about job hunting today. Maybe Natalie had been nagging him about it – worried that he might have less cash to spend on her, no doubt.
    ‘I looked on there yesterday,’ I said. ‘Total waste of time.’
    Simon tutted but didn’t say any more, picking up his iPhone and manipulating the screen with his thumb. Natalie came over and touched my shoulder. ‘It’s difficult to find a job, I think,’ she said kindly. Her hair was messed up – I think she and Simon had thrown a double sickie today to be together. Natalie smelled faintly of sex. It was too much.
    I had to get out. I bought a few cans of beer and went and sat down by the Lock. I had some thinking to do. And the fresh alcohol helped make me feel better; oiled the engine of my mind.
    Seeing Siobhan with Kathy last night has made me realise that I should be her friend, and that it is possible because, clearly, there isn’t really a rule about socialising with her students. I want to ask her why she lied to me, and I want her to know how I feel. Or do I? Oh… I don’t know. I know from experience that it’s best to be friends with women first, and that you shouldn’t try to go beyond that stage too soon. But what if Siobhan only has room for one new friend right now?
    Kathy.
    Room for Kathy and none for me.
    By the time I’d finished my last can of lager I knew that I was going to have to do something about Siobhan’s new friend.
    I walked up past the college to the pub where I saw them having their cosy drink, the George V, and looked in through the window. No sign of Kathy. So I came home again, buying more cans of beer on the way home.
    I’ll go back tomorrow, even though I don’t know what I’m going to say to her or what I’m going to do.
    Oh fuck. Being in love like this is killing me.
     
    Sunday
     
    Went to George V again. Still no sign of Kathy.
    Read TLA. Twice.
    Googled Kathy and tried to find out where she lives but no joy.
    Kissed Siobhan’s picture. A thousand times.
     
    Monday
     
    Oh.
    Oh fuck. What a…
    My hands are shaking so much I can hardly type. I don’t even know if I should be writing this down. What if . . ? But I need to get it out. I need to rid myself of it, like being sick when you’ve drunk so much you feel poisoned.
    The day started like this:
    I was woken by the doorbell. I turned over and it buzzed again. Opening one eye, I looked at the alarm clock.