Stayed over, used the expensive one, left the cap off. Then asked if I wanted to “do this again sometime.” I said maybe. I meant no. My skin looks better than his manners.
Tag: bathroom
Saw her again at a birthday in Shoreditch. Last time she was crying in a bathroom about him. This time she’s on his shoulders. I have the old voice notes. Tempting.
There are rules. White towels are not for strangers you met at 1am in Shoreditch. I found makeup on the good set and I’m being very normal about it.
Romantic is generous. Functional. His belt buckle kept hitting the dispenser. I still came. That’s the bit I’ll leave in.
Not because I’m sentimental. Because the lighting in that bathroom was criminal and I might need the room number if the photo does numbers. Research. Obviously.
Meant for Mia. Landed in the flat chat. Full recap of who did what in the disabled loo at Fabric. Sophie reacted with a single thumbs-down. Silence after that.
Three girls in a cubicle at 4am swapping who they’d just left in the main room. Names, positions, who came, who didn’t. I wrote it down in Notes. Gold.
Four girls, one lock, someone’s boyfriend knocking like he pays rent. I gave her my concealer. She gave me the story. That’s how you leave a club with better gossip than a hangover.
Felt it happen and I still didn’t stop him. That’s the confession. Came anyway. Kicked him out at 3am and sat on the bathroom floor thinking about how stupid I am.
Queue outside, his hand over my mouth, my back against the cistern. Lipstick everywhere. Walked out like nothing happened and ordered another dirty martini.