Lobsters (23 page)

We let a train pass.

‘It feels strange that school is over. That everything is ending. That next month we're not coming back.'

Stella just shrugged. Sometimes I think she only exists for tomorrow. Even the second that's just passed is meaningless to her.

‘What if we change? What if everything changes?' I wasn't being rhetorical. I really wanted an answer. ‘I hate it.'

‘Why? We'll visit each other and go and stay with Tilly and Grace. It's not that big a deal.'

‘I hate endings.'

‘You're so emotional.'

That's true. I cried at the baby squirrels on
Naturewatch
yesterday.

‘Are you scared about results next week?' I asked.

‘I just hope that if I've fucked it up they'll still let me in.'

‘You're so practical. I feel sick when I think about it.'

‘Hannah, you'll get three A's. You will.'

I hate it when people say that to me. They think I'm being typically negative when I say how badly History went. But it really did.

‘You'll get three A's and then we'll find you a new improved Toilet Boy at my party. Maybe you can upgrade to Shed Boy or even Bedroom Boy.'

We talked for ages on the bench. I must have stood on this platform thousands of times but I could only remember a handful. When I kissed Freddie for the first time after
Dreams of Anne Frank
rehearsals. When I cried waiting for the train when my granddad died. When Stella and I saw Mr Cross getting off with Miss Nailor.

We were talking so much we missed the last train in the end and walked back to Stella's.

I texted my Mum to say I was staying out and she texted back:

HAPPY YOU'RE HAPPY AGAIN. SO IS DAD.

I was feeling better, I suppose, but I still flinched when I thought about Sam and Panda.

Lying head-to-tail on the bed with Stella, I said, ‘Do you wish you'd waited until you'd met Pax? To have sex, I mean?'

‘No, because at least now I know what I'm doing, so I won't seem totally clueless. I just hope he doesn't want me to give him a blowjob because it grosses me out. They literally piss out of there.'

I groaned. ‘I think I'll be a virgin for ever.'

‘I think you will be too if you don't grow some balls and realize that Toilet Boy is, and clearly always was, a toilet.'

Sam

Before I could think about Stella's party, I had another social engagement to attend to: an after-work ‘drinks'.

It was the penultimate day of my week at the office, and I'd just returned from the shop with nearly a metric ton of peanut M&M's, which I dumped on the desk between Vicky, Sophie and Sarah (I was still not totally sure which was which). Rather than doing what they usually did and grunting ‘Thanks, hun' without taking their eyes off their computer screens, one of them looked up at me and smiled.

‘You know, Sam,' said Vicky or Sophie or Sarah. ‘You've been a real sweetie this week. You should come to these drinks tomorrow.'

‘What drinks?' I asked, slumping back into my seat.

‘We're having drinks in the office for a few clients,' said Sophie or Sarah or Vicky. ‘Everyone in the building's coming. It's your last day – you have to come.'

‘I sort of have plans with my girlfriend, but I can probably get out of them.'

Instantly, all six of their eyes lit up. They were looking at me like I was a new species of creature they'd just discovered.

‘Oh my absolute
god
!' said Vicky or Sophie or Sarah. ‘You've got a
girlfriend
?'

‘Ah, bless!' added Sophie or Sarah or Vicky.

‘Oh my god!' Sarah or Vicky or Sophie gushed. ‘You absolutely
have
to bring her to the drinks on Friday.'

The others squealed their approval at this suggestion.

‘What's her name?'

Her name. No matter how many times I have to explain it, it doesn't get any easier.

‘Her name's Miranda,' I mumbled into my computer keyboard, ‘but she calls herself Panda because it rhymes with Miranda and also because she likes pandas.'

There was a pause while Vicky/Sophie/Sarah, Sophie/Sarah/Vicky and Sarah/Vicky/Sophie took this in. I waited for the mocking peals of laughter but they never came.

‘That is actually awesome,' said Vicky or Sophie or Sarah finally. ‘I wish my name rhymed with an animal.'

‘Yeah,' said Sophie or Sarah or Vicky. ‘It would be so awesome to be called, like, Miraffe or Mirelephant.'

‘Oh my god, yeah,' agreed Sarah or Vicky or Sophie. ‘I am totes naming my daughter Miraffe.'

‘What if you have a boy, though?'

Sarah or Vicky or Sophie chewed her pen while she considered this. ‘Maybe I'll go for a more masculine animal, like, Mirhino or Mirocodile.'

‘Yeah, Mirocodile's gorgeous, actually.'

‘Well, I've already bagsied it, so you'll have to take Mirhino.' The conversation continued in this vein until all the peanut M&M's were finished and it was time for us to go home.

I met Panda outside the office at half six on Friday. To be fair, she did look really good. She'd clearly made an effort. She was initially quite annoyed that it clashed with Ben's club night, but when I told her it was an office party, she changed her tune completely.

She said, ‘Oh my god, I'm hoping to get a job in an office someday.'

I guess she assumed that every office in England was interconnected and that, if she made a good impression in this one, she'd be set for life.

The ‘drinks' comprised exclusively of really expensive gin and tonics. Even the smell reminded me of that night with Hannah. I left mine on the table and went to get some water. By the time I got back, Panda had already sunk two glasses.

The Vickys, Sophies and Sarahs seemed to be enjoying themselves purely because all the people they usually spoke to on the phone were now actually here in the flesh. And, thus, they could finally assess how much flesh they had on them. Below is some sample dialogue from when I walked past them, huddled around the photocopier, on my way for a piss:

Vicky: God, have you seen the state of her?

Sophie: God, who?

Vicky: Becky from Judy Morgan's.

Sarah: Oh my absolute god. Is she here?

Vicky: Yeah.

Sophie: Oh my god, which one is she?

Vicky: Um … Which do you think? Look for the fattest arms in the room. She's the one attached to them.

Sarah: Oh my god, Vicks! You totes called it.

Vicky: Yeah. Her voice was a dead giveaway.

Since they were all too concerned with arm girth to pay any attention to Panda and me, we spent the first hour or so standing idly around the nibbles table, sipping water (me), necking gin (Panda) and not talking much.

At the festival I never really got the chance to see just
how
ill-matched we really were. We were always drunk and distracted by friends, loud noises and the fact that I'd just had my heart bent out of shape. I'd seen her a couple of times since, but we'd usually just met outside a cinema, kissed, gone into the cinema, sat in silence for two hours, come out, kissed and gone home.

Now that I was stone-cold sober and stuck with just her, it made me realize how little we had to say to each other. I thought about standing with Hannah in Stella's bathroom and walking around the festival with her at dawn. We hadn't stopped talking once.

‘I
love
street art,' said Panda, filling a huge conversational hole and nodding towards one of the millions of Banksy stencils on the office wall. ‘It's so quirky.'

I couldn't think of a response to this that didn't involve banging my face on the table, so I said nothing.

Panda drained her fourth gin and tonic and looked around irritably.

‘This is boring,' she said. ‘Let's go somewhere and …' She gave me a sideways glance. ‘You know …'

‘We can't go somewhere and … you know', I said. ‘We might get caught.'

Panda laughed. ‘Getting caught is the whole fun of it, stupid!'

‘I'm not sure about that,' I said. ‘I think a burglar would probably take issue with that motto.'

‘Shut up, Sam.'

She slammed her glass down, grabbed my hand and strutted across the room. I checked to see if the Vickys, Sophies and Sarahs had noticed but they were still too busy mentally weighing people in the corner. Panda wandered out into the corridor and I followed her.

‘There!' she squealed, pointing to the door of the stationery cupboard.

‘No,' I said, shaking my head. ‘That's the stationery cupboard. We can't go in there. It's for stationery.'

‘Isn't it kind of … naughty to go in the stationery cupboard?' she said, squeezing my bum.

‘I can't think of anything less naughty than stationery,' I said, removing her hand from my bum. ‘When was the last time you saw a hole-punch in a porn film?'

‘I don't watch porn films,' said Panda, screwing up her face in disgust.

‘No, I don't either,' I said, quite convincingly, I thought. ‘But I don't imagine they feature much stationery.'

‘Stop being a twat and live a little,' she whispered, and she opened the door and pulled me inside.

The stationery cupboard was literally the least sexy place in the world. Unless you find the smell of printer toner arousing. Yet Panda was talking about it like it was fucking Paris at sunset.

‘Yeah,' she whispered, gazing around in awe. ‘This is perfect.'

We started kissing. I could taste the gin and tonic on her tongue. She loosened my belt and started to undo my trousers. With a flick of her finger and thumb, they collapsed and fell in a little denim pool round my ankles.

I felt my stomach churning. I wasn't sure how far I wanted this to go. I'd got it into my head that my first time would be with Hannah. Which was stupid since, obviously, the same thought had never crossed her mind. She was probably holding out for Pax. Regardless, was I really prepared to lose my virginity in a windowless room full of staplers?

Panda put her hand inside my boxers and pulled out my cock. I prayed that the problem I had with Erin wouldn't come back to haunt me now.

‘Panda! Wait!'

‘Let's do it here,' she whispered. ‘Let's fuck right here.'

‘Erm …' I thought about Hannah and Pax. If I
was
going to wait for the ‘right' person, clearly I'd be waiting for ever. There was no time like the present. Even if the present smelled like printer toner.

Before I had time to make a proper decision, we heard muffled voices outside. We both froze. The door handle rattled. Someone was coming in.

Quick as a flash, Panda ducked behind a rack of Post-it notes and highlighters. I sprang after her, but tripped on my trousers and came crashing down on the floor, bringing several boxes of biros and a few pads of A4 paper with me. As I struggled to haul myself up, the door opened.

It was Vicky or Sarah or Sophie. With a bloke. They'd clearly had the same idea as Panda.

Their mouths – which had previously been pressed against each other – now hung open as they stared down at me, sprawled on a pile of stationery, trousers round my ankles, desperately – and unsuccessfully – attempting to cover my semierect penis. I tried to speak, to call for Panda to show herself, but nothing came out.

The bloke blinked and ushered Vicky or Sarah or Sophie back out of the door. ‘We'll, er … We'll let you finish, mate,' he muttered.

‘No, I'm finished! I mean … not
finished
, I haven't started! I wasn't doing anything!'

It was too late. They had gone. I heard their howls of laughter receding down the corridor. Panda moved out from behind the rack and dusted herself off as if nothing had happened.

‘Phew,' she said. ‘That was kind of close, wasn't it?'

‘
Kind of close
?' I yelled, stumbling to my feet and dragging my trousers back up. ‘I just got caught with my cock out in a stationery cupboard!'

She grabbed me by the collar and kissed me. ‘I told you getting caught was the whole fun of it!'

I wriggled free of her grasp. ‘Getting caught was literally the
least
fun part of this experience! What could possibly be fun about making people think you've left an office party early to go and have a wank on some Biros?'

Panda exhaled loudly. ‘God, Sam, you're so boring sometimes. When I met you, I really thought you were a free spirit. Like Bob Marley or Nick Grimshaw.'

‘Well, I'm not!' I was getting angry now. ‘I'm not a free spirit who likes shagging in cupboards and quirky street art and “living a little”. I like sitting inside, drinking hot Ribena.'

I don't know why I said it. It just came out.

Panda wrinkled her nose, confused. ‘Is there such a thing as
hot
Ribena?'

I sighed and opened the door.

‘Come on. Let's just go.'