In at the Deep End. Kate Davies

replied straight away: If you can’t beat em join em, mate. And she put a wink emoji at the end. She knows I hate the wink emoji.

      Eventually I found a half-full bottle of vodka on a windowsill and took a swig. It was like a delicious slap in the face, if there can be such a thing. I stood there for a while, drinking and watching the people on the dance floor. Almost everyone was in a couple – a relatively recent one, judging by the level of groping that was going on. I turned and looked out of the window, over rows of graffitied brick walls towards the glow of the Olympic Park, the party behind me reflected in the glass. Fuck this, I thought to myself, drinking a bit more vodka. I was not going to stand there staring mournfully out of a window like a Jane Austen heroine. I too could have a casual fuck. I’d turned over a sexy new leaf. Conceptual artists wanted to have lesbian sex with me. I would find a man and I would snog him. Maybe I’d even bang him if the snog got me in the mood.

      I took another swig from the bottle – a longer one this time, till my gag reflex kicked in and my body started to buzz – and then I walked with purpose into the thick of the party, giving what I thought were sultry come-hither looks to the men I passed.

      Everything is a little bit blurry after that. Or soft-focus – let’s go with soft-focus. I remember dancing for a while, standing in a big circle, opposite an angular woman in dungarees who was waving her cigarette around above her head, the tip striping the air with fire. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jane emerge from the toilets. She felt her way around the room, her hands against the wall, clearly not trusting herself not to fall over. I looked down at my vodka bottle and was surprised to find it almost empty.

      I don’t remember how I met him. The first thing I remember is pushing him out of the circle towards the fire escape, both of my hands on his back, the two of us stumbling and laughing. And the next thing I remember is being pressed up against him, him stroking my face and murmuring to me in his sexy Irish voice. He had green-brown eyes and very red lips, and stubble. He smelled a bit like he hadn’t washed in a few days, but there was something appealing about that, something raw and masculine and unconventional.

      I kissed him first. I’m proud of myself for that. He kissed back and pushed me against the fire escape railing so it dug into my back. I closed my eyes and let my hands wander over his arse, using his body to turn myself on. I’d bloody done it. I was touching another human being. I’d broken the bloody spell.

      ‘Come home with me, like.’ He breathed into my ear, hot and damp. ‘I want to see what’s underneath that T-shirt.’

      It occurred to me that the answer to that question was ‘an old M&S multi-pack bra’.

      ‘I don’t know …’ It was so fucking nice to feel the warmth of another human being, but the world was beginning to tilt and lurch, and the vodka was threatening to reappear.

      ‘Your tits are so firm,’ he said, running a hand over the pointy edges of my ribcage.

      ‘Those aren’t my tits,’ I said, picking up his hand and moving it upwards.

      He laughed. ‘Thank fuck for that. Come to the toilets with me.’

      That’s when Alice’s face appeared over his shoulder. She gave me two thumbs up and ducked away.

      I pulled away from him and called to Alice. ‘Wait!’ I began to walk back into the warehouse.

      He grabbed my hand. ‘What, you’re not going, are you?’

      ‘Yeah. Sorry. Thanks, though.’

      ‘Swap numbers then?’

      ‘Sure.’ He gave me his phone and I typed in my number with the slow deliberation of the extremely drunk.

      My phone buzzed in the taxi on the way home. Gonna dream about you tonight ;) Finn x

      I smiled to myself. I’m going to have sex with you, Finn, I thought. And if you’re lucky, I’ll let you have sex with me back.

      I couldn’t quite believe how bad my hangover was the next morning. I could practically feel my brain knocking against the sides of my skull when I moved. I lay on my back, as still as possible. What had happened to me last night? Why did I feel like I’d been rubbing a cheese grater against my cheek?

      I had a sudden vision of an empty bottle of vodka and a fire escape and a hand fondling my ribcage. Finn. Finn and his stubble. I’d snogged Finn.

      Even though I was concentrating very hard on breathing in and out and not vomiting, I felt very pleased with myself. I had kissed an actual man – I had not forgotten how. And although I couldn’t imagine enjoying anything at all at that particular moment, I had a feeling I’d really enjoyed the kiss, too.

      Not only that, but I had been about two units of alcohol away from fucking him on a ketamine-covered toilet cistern in Hackney Wick. I closed my eyes and thanked the universe that I hadn’t had sex for the first time in years while in a vodka coma. I wanted to remember such a momentous occasion.

      I was woken again by Alice opening my door, which was a little awkward, as I wasn’t wearing any clothes. She handed me a cup of tea; as I took it, I had to clutch the duvet with my chin so she didn’t get a flash of nipple.

      ‘Feeling rough?’ she said cheerfully.

      ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Do we have any Haribo, or crisps or anything?’ I took a sip of tea. It seemed to curdle in my mouth.

      ‘I’ll get you some later. Tell me about the guy you snogged!’ Her arms were crossed. She was far too excited about it.

      ‘I don’t really remember …’

      ‘He had great hair. Reddish.’

      ‘Did he?’ I said, putting my tea down and delicately lowering myself onto my back again.

      ‘Yes! I couldn’t really see his face, though, the angle you were at.’

      ‘He definitely smelled quite masculine,’ I said, closing my eyes. I could hear birds singing and the pounding of the blood in my head.

      Alice took the hint. She padded out of the room, ostentatiously quietly, and returned clutching a pack of Haribo Starmix.

      ‘Thank you,’ I said, and she sat there, smiling at me indulgently, as I piled the sweets into my mouth, one after the other.

      I had a mouth full of cola bottles when my phone started to ring. I reached out for it, swallowing hastily and narrowing my eyes against the glare of the screen.

      It was Finn.

      I waved Alice out of the room. She went as slowly as she could, clearly trying to overhear as much of our conversation as possible.

      ‘I feel like shit this morning,’ said Finn. His voice was deeper than I remembered, a lazy drawl.

      ‘I literally think I’m about to die,’ I said.

      ‘Not because of me, I hope,’ he said.

      ‘No,’ I said, trying to ignore Alice, who was standing in the doorway, grinning at me.

      ‘Cool,’ he said. ‘So, like – do you want to go for a drink sometime then?’ He sounded like he wasn’t arsed either way, and yet he obviously was arsed, because here he was calling me the morning after we’d met. ‘Next Friday maybe?’

      ‘Sounds good,’ I said. He must actually like me, I thought. This could genuinely lead to sex. I wasn’t sure I could remember how to do it. What if I couldn’t – what’s the female equivalent of ‘get it up’?

       4. UNSEXY SEX

      I thought about sex on Sunday and did an emergency underwear wash. I hung my black bra to dry on the radiator in my bedroom, so that it would be ready for my date. I thought about sex on Monday on the packed Piccadilly line, my face pressed up against