Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 104138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“Your brother’s on his way,” I mutter, looking at the floor. “But he’s in Glasgow and-”
“What the hell’s he doing in Scotland? I only saw him this morning.”
I don’t know the answer, so I just shrug.
“Well I’m not waiting for him. I’ll call a cab when they let me go.”
“You shouldn’t be on your own right now.”
“Don’t pretend to know what I need,” he spits.
I shrink back a step. “The doctor said you might have a concussion, that’s all.”
“He shouldn’t have told you anything without my permission.”
“He didn’t. I, um, I overheard.”
I don’t know why I’m putting up with his bullshit. He’s right. I don’t know what he needs. I shouldn’t be here. I owe nothing to him or his brother. “I’ll ride in the cab with you.” Again, I don’t know why I’ve said it. I didn’t plan to. Things just keep toppling from my mouth without warning or prior thought. Just like when I agreed to ride in the ambulance with him. I should’ve left then.
“I promised your brother I’d stay with you.” It’s an excuse but it’s not the reason. I don’t know why I’m doing it. Right now, I don’t know anything.
James sighs, appearing defeated. “Please yourself.” He surprises me. He’s never struck me as a man who relents to anyone. “But you can wait outside.”
I nod weakly, even though he’s not looking at me, and make my way to the waiting room. I stop by the triage office and peer through the open door. There’s a male nurse inside, tapping away on his computer, and I knock on the door to bring attention to myself. I tell him who I am and who I’m with and ask if he’ll let me know when James is discharged. He agrees, and I walk away to find a seat.
It’s a busy night and there aren’t any chairs available, so I pace up and down instead. I’m just glad we weren’t brought to my brother’s hospital. I don’t think I could be arsed trying to explain what’s happened, especially when I don’t know myself.
I think back to my past relationships, but I’m not sure I can even class them as that. None of them lasted more than a few weeks and I always thought that was because we had nothing in common, yet James and I most definitely don’t have anything in common and I can’t stop thinking about him. You hear about people, some say soulmates, just clicking. You see it in movies, read it in books, but that’s fiction, fantasy. It doesn’t happen in real life. Does it?
Three and a half hours I wait for news. I keep myself alert by drinking copious amounts of coffee from the vending machine. It tastes worse than the cheap shit in my flat but it keeps me awake.
A few minutes after being told that James has been discharged he emerges from the double doors that lead to the A&E department. He looks at me just briefly and then stares at his feet as he starts walking to the exit. I jog lightly to catch up with him and ask if he’s ready for me to call a taxi.
“Nurse already did it,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.
The car is waiting as we step outside. I’m glad because it’s the middle of the night and my arms are freezing. James slides in the back seat while I walk to the other side and get in next to him.
“Spinningfields,” James says to the driver.
Wow. My annual salary would probably only cover a single month’s rent in one of those apartments.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, my voice low, shaky.
“Fine.”
I nod slowly and leave it at that. Clearly, he doesn’t want me to talk to him, so I keep quiet the rest of the way. When we pull up outside his building James pats down his pockets and sighs. I already know he doesn’t have his wallet. The paramedics couldn’t find anything on his person to officially I.D. him.
“I’ve got it,” I say, pulling a twenty from my own wallet and handing it to the driver.
James is already out of the car, walking ahead. I don’t think he expects it, but I follow him anyway. I just want to make sure he reaches his apartment and then I’ll leave.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” he says, punching in a code that opens the main doors. He walks through them and I hover outside. “Are you coming or not?”
“Um…” I jog inside because the doors are about to close, not giving me enough time to make a decision.
I’m so confused. He told me to leave with one breath and asked if I was staying with the next. I’m in the building now so I might as well follow. That’s what I tell myself anyway. Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I keep my head down as we ride the lift and my eyes wander to James’ foot which is tapping incessantly against the floor.
When we reach the top floor, he steps out and I trail behind. He’s managed to keep hold of his keys and he teases them out of his pocket, jangling them until he finds the right one. There’s only one door up here, I notice. Surely he can’t occupy the entire top floor? How much money is he actually worth? A fucking lot, I decide when I step into his home. I walk into one huge open plan living space. Every wall is painted brilliant white with the exception of one which is exposed brick. It’s very modern – modular sofas, high-gloss kitchen, and a TV bigger than my bedroom mounted on the wall.
“You have a balcony?” It comes out like a question as I tread across the great room.
The far wall consists of floor-to-ceiling windows, the centre panel housing French doors that open up onto a terrace overlooking the city. Manchester looks pretty stunning from up here. Nestled under the dark sky, it’s a sea of lights and artistic buildings. You don’t see that during the day. When you’re scurrying around trying to get from A to B, all you notice are swarms of people, littered pavements, and heavy traffic.