My phone rang. All groggy, I tried to pick it up, but only dropped it on the bed sheets. After scrambling to find it while also struggling to open my eyes, I found the part of the screen that I had to touch and picked up.

“Tedeschi,” I said, barely recognising my own voice, and realised that my head was hurting like an absolute bitch.

“Hey, Jordan! Are you coming in to work? Boss called me yesterday while you were passed out, said that he’d like us in today,” a female voice said. Claire.

“And you were planning to tell me this when exactly?” I said, very irate with her.

“Right about now,” she said. “You’re usually awake by now.”

“I’m also usually not hung over at this time of day. Fuck off, and call me in a week,” I said.

“Overtime money if you show up,” she said.

Fuck. That was too good to pass up, even if I was going to half-ass the job and take a round of painkillers just to be awake. I’m too old for this, I thought. “Ugh, okay. When do I need to be there?”

“I’m just about to head out of mine, I’ll pick you up on the way. Should be at yours in half an hour or so,” she said. “See you!”

“Uh-huh,” I said, and hung up. Half an hour? Was she crazy?

Still, overtime money was too good to miss out on, and I got myself over to the bathroom for a quick shower, before making a quick BLT for breakfast and washing it down with an ibuprofen smoothie. Vacuum flask full of coffee in hand, I walked out of my front door exactly thirty minutes after Claire’s phone call, and her car rolled down my street right on schedule.

“If only BA was this precise,” I said as I sat down.

“Shut up,” she said. “We need to talk.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. “Yeah, which asshole makes people work on the third? At least give us the rest of the week off to recover.”

“No, not that,” she said.I used the red light as an opportunity to take a sip of coffee before responding. “What, then?”

She sighed. “We need to talk about your absolute determination to ruin every bleeding outing that we take you on. Two weeks ago for the farewell? Made it about yourself. New Year’s Eve? Completely cockblocked all of us by being a miserable bitch. What the hell, Jordan?”

“Huh?” I said.

“Don’t huh me,” she said. “You know what you’re doing.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

“Oh, sweetie, do you not remember?”

“How many did I have?” I asked.

“A few,” she said. “More than a few, in fact. You’ll feel it on your credit card soon enough.”

Fuck. That wasn’t good. “So, what did I do?”

“Every single one of the girls, including myself, was chatting up some lad, things were going well, but one by one, you couldn’t handle being alone for two fucking minutes, which, mind you, is more than enough time to explore someone’s mouth, and kept talking about how they were malicious, and how they were just there to use us,” she said. “The lads promptly legged it, and all of us were left frustrated.”

“Well, if I said that drunk, I really meant it,” I said, still too hung over to be anything more than concise. “Truth in wine, and all that.”

“Sweetie, it’s New Year’s. It’s made for meaningless sex. Yeah, they were there to use us, and we were there to use them. That’s what a normal sex life is. But no, you’ve turned into a nun and are ruining everyone else’s fun. It’s not a convent,” she said.

“Alright, I’m really sorry,” I said. “I really don’t have the energy to try and remember everything right now.”

“Oh, you’re forgiven, it’s just that the next time this opportunity arises, I’ll be a year older and a year uglier. Think about that. I don’t care that you’ve given up on yours, but I still want my life,” she said.

“Stop chatting shit. What are you, 29?” I said.

“33,” she said. “Past my prime. All downhill from here.”

“Don’t blame your biological clock on me,” I said.

“Oh, I’m not,” she said. “I am blaming my lack of action on you.”

“What do you want me to do, then?” I said.

“I want you to either get over yourself, or stop going out with us,” she said. “Either works, really.”

“Thank you for making it clear,” I said, doing my best to put a posh, over-the-top voice on. “I’ll inform you of my decision in due course.”

“Now you’re the one chatting shit,” she said.

“I know,” I said, and cracked a smile. “Aren’t I a pleasure to be around?”

“When sober, and concentrated on anything other than your own thoughts, yeah, you are. Just a question of how often you can be in those situations when not at work,” she said. “I don’t know what they’ve done to you, but since last October you’ve been so weird. I want my friend back.”

I must’ve been really black-out drunk if I didn’t remember anything from the entire night. Moreover, there it was again. She seemed to think

I was important, even though it never seemed this way. Was I really someone in so many lives?

“What’s so special about me?” I said, testing the waters.

“Everything,” she said. “The good and the bad kinds of special. That’s why we all love you. Just a shame you seem to be blind to it.” I couldn’t read her due to the splitting headache, but I didn’t need to. Her voice said enough. She was completely sincere.
We pulled into the company car park, and after we’d walked out of the car, she walked around to hug me. “Share a post-work cup with us sometimes, okay? I’m not giving up on you yet.”

“Alright,” I said, trying to breathe from the very tight hug. “Can I breathe, though?”

“Of course,” she laughed and let up. “You bitch.”

“I know,” I said, and walked into the office building.