Chapter 9: A Fresh Start?

A couple of hours after Amanda returned to her flat, I got a call from Emily suggesting we go into town for Sunday lunch. She even suggested I bring Mark and the other guys along. They all went for the idea, but afterwards, I couldn’t help but think it was a mistake taking them. For starters, we struggled to find a table big enough for our party of eleven. And then Amanda was as good as her word and proceeded to tell everyone just what I’d done to her last night. Not in graphic detail, thank God, although I suspected those details would be shared with Lottie and Libby back at the flat. She had absolutely no shame in telling the whole table in a none-too-quiet voice (and as a consequence, the people at the surrounding tables too) that I’d made her pass out from too much pleasure.

Mark smirked at me as she told the story. Micky, Mazher and Jon looked at me with something akin to awe—I had a horrible feeling I’d just become their hero or something—and Libby and Lottie made me feel like a piece of meat that they couldn’t wait to devour with the looks they were giving me. Even Jade and Joanne kept stealing glances in my direction and sharing knowing looks—could it be that Amanda was right about them wanting to give me a try too?

I expected Emily to be uncomfortable with all the talk of my sexual prowess, but if she was, she hid it well. In fact, she appeared to be having a great time winding me up about it at every opportunity. At one point when I looked at her, she picked up a breadstick and proceeded to perform mock fellatio on it, a devilish twinkle in her eye the whole time.

After lunch, we wandered around town for a while and then agreed to me up again later at the bar near the girl’s flat for a late-night drink. It was all a very relaxed way to round off a pretty manic week for me. Ever since I got back in the country, it seemed as if I’d been constantly on the go.

It’s a good job that I did have a chance to rest that Sunday because life became a lot fuller from then on. Monday was registration day—which I’m not even going to try and describe. Go here, sign this, go there and get something else signed, pick this course, drop that course because it clashed with this other course. Still, by the end of it, I was properly registered as a student at Westmouth University, with a packed timetable of lectures, seminars and tutorials to earn me enough credits (assuming I passed them all) to see me into the second year.

That packed timetable began the very next day with one of the nine o’clock lectures that Emily had warned me about. And given that Mark and I had joined Phil and Jem in the bar for an hour late on Monday, I was starting to understand why she didn’t like them.

Wednesday afternoon was kept free of timetabled courses to allow the students to partake in sports clubs or other worthwhile activities. That first Wednesday, I found lying on my bed snoring my head off to be very worthwhile indeed.

All in all, I was delighted to make it to three o’clock on Friday afternoon, when my last lecture of the week ended. I guess I knew that we weren’t going to be eased into our study programmes, but I genuinely didn’t expect it to be as full-on as it was. Every lecturer seemed to consider his course to be the most important of the year, and they all opened up at breakneck speed. I’d have to work out some system for taking notes quicker than I’d ever done in the past, and I’d have to work it out soon.

When I got back to my room, I found Mark and Jem standing by the entrance to Mark’s room, talking.

“Ay, Ay, here he is, resident Wintersmith stud,” said Mark, cheerily. I just rolled my eyes at the comment. He’d been ribbing me about the praise Amanda had heaped on me ever since Sunday lunchtime and it was water off a duck’s back by that point.

Jem grinned but said nothing. I unlocked my room, deposited my bag on the desk and went back into the corridor.

“So, what are you pair up to?”

“Talking about going into town tonight,” Mark said. “You up for it?”

“We’re planning on doing a pub crawl with any of the interested freshers. From what I’ve heard so far, most of them look like they’re going to tag along.”

“Tonight?” I said. “You’re kidding, right? I’m fucking knackered.”

Mark shrugged. He still looked pretty fresh. How was that even possible after the week we’d had? Or was it just me? I remember Will warning me that a law degree was a hard slog. Perhaps the course Mark was on was easier or at least had a lighter timetable.

“It gets easier,” Jem said. “Honest. You’ve just got to learn to pace yourself. I know they bang on about how important everything is, but, honestly, you can get away with coasting most of the courses. As long as you get your assignments done and cram like mad for the exams at the end of each semester, you’ll be fine. It’s the third year you really need to work hard. It’s the exams that year and your dissertation that determines the level of your honours.”

I nodded. Maybe he was right, but I honestly didn’t know how to coast.

“So you up for it or not? You can’t really be thinking about staying in on your own,” said Mark.

“Oh, I don’t think he’ll be on his own if he stays in,” said Jem with a smirk. Sad thing was, he was probably right. If Amanda heard I was all alone in the hall, she’d probably be here like a flash.

I shrugged. “All right, count me in.”

“Excellent,” said Mark. “Early tea then? Say half-five in the canteen?”

“Whatever. We’ll probably end up having a kebab later anyway, won’t we?”

“Too right we will,” said Mark.

I looked at Jem. “I don’t even fucking like kebabs, but when you’ve had a few...”

“Tell me about it. You wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve put in my mouth after a night out.” Mark burst out laughing and Jem quickly added, “That sounded better in my head. I didn’t mean what it sounded like.”

“Yeah, right,” said Mark. He mimed pushing a cock into his mouth, using his tongue to make it look like it was pushing against the inside of his cheek. Jem lightly punched his arm and the pair ended up in a playful wrestling match. I rolled my eyes and turned my back. I flopped down on my bed and picked up the remote from the windowsill so I could turn on the telly.

I’d left my door open and after a while, Jem stepped into the room.

“Look, Paul, I don’t know if anybody’s said anything or not, but have you heard about Phil and Emmy?”

“No. What about them?”

“They’re ... er ... They’re kind of back together.”

“Really? She never said. But then, I’ve not really had a chance to talk to her this week. Been too busy. Or too tired.”

“Yeah, well. They’re on the same course, see. It’s how they got together last year.”

I nodded.

“You okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. Just because.”

“Look, Ems is my best friend, right? I want her to be happy, not miserable and lonely. If she’s happy, I’m cool with it.”

Jem nodded.

“But just so we’re clear, tell Phil, if he hurts her...”

“You wouldn’t be cool with that. I get it. And I bet he does too without me saying anything. Although, if you wanted to get to him, you’d have to get there before Mands. I don’t reckon there’d be much left of him if she got her hands on him.”

“Yeah. Probably.”

“Speaking of Mands, who’s she got you scheduled for tonight? Libby or Lottie? Or is she keeping you to herself for a couple of weeks first?”

“You make it sound like she’s my bloody pimp or something?”

“Isn’t she? No, I guess pimps charge, don’t they? Whereas Mands seems to want to pass you around for free. Seriously, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got a calendar in her room where girls can sign up and book a day with you.”

“Fucking hell. This is my fault, isn’t it?”

“I suppose. If you hadn’t knocked her the fuck out, I doubt she’d be raving quite as much. How the fuck did you do that by the way?”

“Trade secret.”

“What fucking trade is that? Does it offer an apprenticeship?”

I laughed. “I doubt it.”

“Too bad. But you need to share your secrets. Willingly. I’d hate to have to beat it out of you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“It’d be easy,” said Mark from the doorway. I hadn’t noticed him there. “I’d hold you down, and he’d torture you. Simples, like, innit?”

After eating in the canteen—the food hadn’t gotten any better during the first week, but I still held out hope—there was time for a shower and shave before most of the hall’s residents met up in the common room. There was more free booze on offer, but Phil told us it was the last of what they’d bought with last year’s hall levy. When pressed, he explained that we were all expected to contribute to a fund that would be used to provide entertainment events throughout the year. Any money left over was carried forward to buy drinks for the next year’s intake.

I spoke briefly to Phil before our group of five had to move away from the booze table to let someone else get near, but neither of us mentioned Emily. I’m sure Jem had told him I was cool with it—what more needed to be said?

While I was standing by one of the pool tables, talking with my boys, I noticed a very, very cute little redhead looking my way. When she realised I had caught her looking, she quickly put her head down and turned to the side as if to give her attention back to the girl talking to her—another of those buxom blondes that seemed to litter my life, believe it or not. But the little redhead’s attention wasn’t on her friend. Not all her attention at any rate. She kept stealing glances at me, then quickly looking away.

I recognised her from somewhere. I couldn’t say where, but I’m sure I recognised her. And no, it wasn’t from the previous weekend when the hall had gathered for the campus tour. It was someplace else.

I tapped Mark on the arm and said, “Don’t run off without me, okay?”

“Where’re you going, mate?”

“I’ll be back in a sec. Just wait for me before we leave.”

I pushed through the crowd towards the redhead. When she noticed me coming towards her, she panicked, looking around for some means of escape. But there wasn’t any. And besides, the blonde was still talking to her, blissfully unaware that she really wasn’t taking very much notice.

The blonde did notice when I was standing in front of her though.

“Hey,” she said, her face lit up by a hundred-watt smile. “It’s Paul, right?”

I nodded.

“Everyone’s been talking about you. Is it really true that you made that second-year girl pass out from sex, and she then didn’t wake up for like a whole day or something?”

I looked at the redhead. “I know you from somewhere. I just can’t—”

“We’re on the same course,” she said timidly before staring at the floor. She had a fabulous Welsh twang to her voice, so melodious it was almost as if she was singing rather than speaking. I honestly think I could have listened to that accent all day. Even after Gladys, the elderly lady I sat next to on the plane home, had talked my ear off, I hadn’t tired of her accent at all.

“Oh, right,” I said. “That must be it.”

Still staring at the floor, she murmured, “We were in Doctor Thomas’ seminar together yesterday.”

“Oh, right. I...” I didn’t remember seeing her there, but I couldn’t very well say that. It’s one thing to not remember seeing one face in a crowd of a couple of hundred in a lecture theatre, it’s a whole other matter if you’re both in a seminar group of less than twenty. “So ... er ... what did you think of the first week? Pretty tough, huh?”