Open Invite

My phone rang at half six.
"'Mmm?"
"Cupcake! Are you OK? Can I come visit?"
""Mm."
"Did I wake you?"
"Mm."
"I'll bring snacks and nibbles."
"Right."

* * *

Sophie flatmate came wandering in as I shuffled round the flat a while later, having given up on getting any more sleep, squinting and desperately closing curtains, wearing fluffy slippers and my favourite pyjamas and cuddling a hot water bottle.
"What's with the stupor?" She asked, grinning slightly. I spotted a heap of blankets and cushions in a corner, well hidden behind a discarded Twister mat, a plant, a card tower and an empty bottle of vodka and dragged them towards the couch- a move made more difficult by my reluctance to relinquish my death grip on the hot water bottle.
The card tower collapsed, of course.
"Oh," she said, watching. "So Joel's visiting?"
I caught sight of myself in the mirror and stifled a sqeal. "Of course he's visiting."

* * *

She walked out, Toby flatmate walked in and collapsed on the floor next to me clutching a copy of Vogue, and a barbie doll missing a shoe.
Seriously; that boy has the best nights out.
He glanced at me, drank half my coffee before I could summon the energy to protest, then looked again: from me, to the couch, and back.
And then he did it all one more time, for good measure.
"Oh," he said, rubbing his head ruefully. "So Joel's visiting?"

* * *

An hour later I was slightly less hungover, still curled up on the floor with Toby keeping me warm, and beginning to contemplate commencing a search for blueberry muffins, when my Alex flatmate resurfaced, looking slightly worse for wear.
"What happened?" I asked. "I only remember drinking a can of something or other!"
He gave me A Look. "No."
"Right." We've done this before.
He glanced over at the blankets piled on the couch- "Oh", he said. "So Joel's visiting?"
"I have more than one friend!"
"Sure you do babe."
"So?"
"Stupor. Hot water bottle. Fluffy slippers. Scary hair. Hideous pyjamas."
"It's polka dot. It's a movement."
"They're ugly."
"Did you have a point when you started?" I asked. Bloody hypocrite.
"I forget." He shrugged, then winced. "I just don't know anyone else who makes you so totally deranged."

* * *

Three hours later I was alone in the flat, kicking my heels and contemplating the need for sunglasses, before going to meet him off the train, when he walked in.
"I caught an early train," he said, running across and catching me up in a hug that knocked all the breath from my lungs. "Blimey darlin', there's nothing on you, but I've blueberry muffins in my bag so we'll soon fix that."
He loosened his grip for a tic and I had a stab at the whole breathing thing, before he pulled me to him again, arms tight round my waist, my feet leaving the floor, my hangover threatening to return with a vengeance. "I'm so glad to see you again cupcake," he said, then he licked my cheek.

I mean, how normal is that?

But I love this boy; he's the one from the Disney post a few days back, the one who bit my lip and sent me to A&E.

More on this little visit as it happens.