Portia MacIntosh - How Not To Be Starstruck

‘Don’t worry, mate,’ Mark calls back. ‘Luke, I’ll take Nicole back in for her earring and then we’ll walk back. It’s not far and we’re not that drunk, right, Nic?’

‘Right, Mark!’ I give Luke a thumbs-up – clearly not the actions of a sober girl. Luke reluctantly gets in the taxi and they drive off, leaving me drunk and alone with sleazy Mark, the tour-paedo.

‘Are we going to get my earring?’ I ask, actually remembering something that happened in the past ten minutes.

‘Yes we are,’ he says as he bends over and picks my earring up from the floor. ‘Oh look, there it is. I must have been standing on it.’

My few remaining sober thoughts are telling me that maybe something is up here.

‘Shall we get back to the bus then?’ he asks, grabbing my hand and dragging me in what I assume is the right direction.

I don’t know what time it is, but it must be after 3 a.m. as we make our way down the eerily quiet streets of Manchester.

‘I think Luke reckons he’s in there with you, he’s probably waiting for you on the bus with his jeans around his ankles,’ Mark informs me, like it’s a done deal.

I laugh and shrug my shoulders. It’s nothing to do with him, is it?

‘We could always stay out for a bit,’ he suggests.

‘And go where? Everywhere is closed!’

‘Not everywhere,’ he says, leading me down a dark alleyway, and before I have time to take in exactly what is going on, Mark is pushing me up against the wall and kissing me hard on the lips.

As we kiss I open my eyes and take in our surroundings. This particular part of the city is practically silent and it’s too dark to see anything, but I know we must be near some bins because they are all I can smell. Mark’s horrible beard (think Brad Pitt, circa 2009) is rubbing against my face, making it itch, and I can feel him carelessly tugging at my clothes. At that moment an ambulance goes flying past, illuminating the alley with its bright-blue lights and making me jump with its loud siren. What the hell am I doing here? I don’t fancy this guy – bloody hell, I don’t even like this guy most of the time. My vodka goggles are abruptly ripped from my face and I push Mark away.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asks breathlessly.

‘We’d better get back to the bus. They’re going to wonder where we are,’ I insist, but he’s having none of it, grabbing my hips and moving closer, squashing me against the wall.

‘They won’t give a shit. Come on, just relax!’

I can’t relax because I really don’t want to do this.

‘Someone might see us,’ I say, wriggling free from his grasp and making my way back towards the street.

‘Nicole, come on,’ he calls after me, but I keep walking and eventually he follows me. We walk the rest of the way in silence.

Finally through the bus doors safe and sound, I make my way up the stairs to the living area and realise everyone is already in their bunk – apart from Luke. He’s sitting on the sofa, probably waiting for me.

‘You guys took a while, is everything OK?’ he asks, sounding concerned.

‘Everything is great, man,’ Mark tells him, giving him a wink that we all know the meaning of. Oh God, I want to curl up and die! I’m fairly sure getting it on with one of his band friends is not the way to his heart.

‘Oh, right,’ Luke replies. ‘Well, I’m going to get to bed. Night, mate,’ he says giving Mark a pat on the shoulder. And then he looks at me. His eyes look so red and tired. ‘Night, Nicole,’ he says, walking off towards the bunks without waiting for a reply.

‘Night,’ I call after him, but it’s too late. I’ve really blown it this time. All I want to do is get in my bunk and pray that everything will be OK in the morning when we’re all sober. What happened with Mark was nothing really, a few seconds of madness, or was it minutes? I have no idea.

Mark stands up and, presuming he’s going to his bunk, I stand up too. He puts his hand on my shoulder and pushes me back down.

‘I’m going for a piss, don’t go to sleep. I’ll be back in a minute. We’ve got unfinished business.’

He walks off towards the toilet. Now I really do feel sick. There’s isn’t even a hint of sexiness in his request and I don’t even want to be near him, let alone anything else. So I do what any girl would do in my situation, I fake it. I lie down on the sofa, shut my eyes and pretend to be asleep. I hear him come back and loudly whisper my name a couple of times to try and wake me, but I keep my eyes tightly closed and eventually he gives up and goes off to his bunk. Too scared to move in case he hears me, I pretend to be asleep on the uncomfortable sofa until tiredness takes over and I fall asleep for real.

Chapter Nine

The Morning After the Night Before

Oh my God, I feel terrible. I’ve got such a headache and I’m too scared to open my eyes properly in case the light makes it worse. The events of last night are bouncing around in my head, which is probably contributing towards my headache. How could I have been so stupid? Mark might have masterminded a pretty decent plan to get me alone, but I didn’t have to go along with it. Yes, I was drunk enough to get caught up in things, but unfortunately I wasn’t quite drunk enough to forget what happened. But nothing did happen really, did it? It was just a silly kiss. I kiss people all the time – although, not everyone I kiss tries to remove my underwear in the street.

I open my eyes ever so slowly and stare at the ceiling for a second, giving them chance to adjust. The bus is silent so I assume everyone else is asleep. Rolling onto my side I see that Luke is sitting on the opposite side of the sofa, in the exact same place he was last night. He’s staring at me and his face is totally expressionless. I must look terrible, not only did I have such an awkward, uncomfortable night but I didn’t take my make-up off and you can guarantee my post-club hair will be a frizzy mess.

‘Good morning,’ I say weakly.

‘Hello,’ he replies. ‘Rough night?’

‘Something like that...what time is it?’

‘8 a.m. Want to go get a coffee?’ he asks in an unusually blunt manner.

‘Yeah, sure. I’ll just smarten myself up,’ I reply shyly. I really didn’t want him to see me like this.

‘OK. I’m going outside for a smoke, I’ll see you in a minute.’ And with that, he’s gone.

As I slowly sit up, I take in my surroundings. The living area is just as messy as I am. Empty cans and bottles are littered all over the place, there’s the odd junk food wrapper and cigarette packets scattered around and I am being over powered by two smells – Lynx and sweat. Unfortunately the latter scent is the stronger one.

Grabbing my bag, I make my way to the tiny bus toilet. It’s impossible not to feel claustrophobic in these bathrooms, there’s barely enough standing room for one person. The small space consists of a toilet, a small sink and a shower head, none of which are very easy to use, even when the bus is stationary. I catch sight of myself in the dirty mirror and, just as I suspected, I have make-up all over my face and a hairstyle that would be more at home in the 80s. Thankfully my face wipes are in the bag that I actually remembered, although unfortunately I don’t have a hairbrush or any clean clothes with me.

Winding my long blonde hair into a bun on the top of my head, I begin wiping off my make-up – only to start reapplying it seconds later. With my hair looking crap, I make the decision to wear even more make-up to compensate. Standing back to take in my appearance in the tiny mirror, I can only conclude that I look like a groupie. My hair is messed up, my make-up is over the top and I’m still wearing my gig outfit – or maybe I just feel like a groupie after last night.