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“Goodnight, Scarlett,” I said.
She shrugged, a little smile, like it made no difference to her either way. “Night, puppy.”
I walked to the car. I didn’t look back. I was quite proud of myself for about a hundred yards.
Then I sat behind the wheel with the engine running and the heater roaring, and I thought about her open coat. The black lace. The goosebumps on her freckles. Twenty minutes, and I’m bored and cold.
I nearly went back. I actually had my hand on the door handle. But when I looked down the alley she was already stubbing out her cigarette and heading inside, and the fire door swung shut behind her with a bang that sounded very final.
I drove home.
The flat was exactly as empty as I’d left it. The gap on the kitchen counter where the good kettle used to be. Her side of the wardrobe, bare hangers. The silence.
I boiled water in a saucepan and made tea I didn’t want. Then I lay on the bed in my one decent shirt and, inevitably, unzipped my jeans.
I thought about Jade’s hand on my chest. About Scarlett’s cold nipples and her green eyes. I thought about what might have happened in that alley if I’d just said yes. It didn’t take long.
Afterwards I lay there staring at the ceiling.
Monday, job. Wednesday, girlfriend. Friday, the two most beautiful women I’d ever seen, and I’d gone home to a saucepan.
Next week, I promised myself. Next week I’d say yes.
Ending 25 of 25: Home Alone. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.