The Game

Music:  Temptation - Heaven 17

The day after the work's Christmas party I had a hangover which felt like a slow and painful death.

The previous night I had got very, very drunk on tequila slammers, flirted unashamedly with sexy sales guy Foxy Scott from my office and made a bet with him about the outcome of a football match.  Oh and I accidentally kissed him and got his phone number - all whilst my knob-jockey of a boyfriend was just around the corner.

After my rather eventful evening I woke up with a disgusting taste in my mouth. 

It wasn't guilt.  Weirdly I didn't feel bad about anything that had happened the previous night.

On the contrary, I was rapidly coming to the conclusion that I would have to end it with my boyfriend, Matt.

No, the taste in my mouth was definitely alcohol related.

In fact, it was so bad, I was convinced that when I was asleep a hairy gorilla had sculpted me a bum banana and left it in there for me to suck on. Either that or I had fallen out of bed in the middle of the night and spent a few hours inadvertantly licking the carpet.

I was looking and feeling crud.

I stayed in bed for most of the day, especially as Matt’s horrendous drunken snoring had kept me awake for the majority of the night. When I finally peeled myself out from under the duvet it was about four in the afternoon, and I plonked myself down on the sofa - just in time for the football.

Ah, the football.  Happily the game being shown was Liverpool v Arsenal. Come on boys and win me a tenner.  Foxy Scott, your money will be mine.

That night, in between fitful sleep I’d gone over and over in my mind everything that had happened:

Foxy Scott telling me that he fancied me.

The flirting and the conversation.

The kiss.

It was weird, as I knew he had a girlfriend and I was pretty sure that they lived together and were happy, but then again people would think that Matt and I were happy so what does that say? After everything that happened to me when my previous boyfriend (the Evil Cockbag) slept with that woman from work I have always said I would never, ever cheat on anyone as the pain is just too much to take for the other person.

So what on earth was I contemplating now?

Foxy Scott and I both had other halves so nothing else could happen.

Could it?

Would I want it to?

Was I just flattered by the attention or was there something more to it?

Is this how affairs start? Is it this easy?

As I settled down to watch the game my mind wandered. Matt was sitting on the other chair, but happily when the football was on I wasn't not allowed to talk to him, so my quietness was taken for me just watching the game instead of mulling things over:

I was the one who initiated the kiss. I had asked Foxy Scott for his number.

I knew that I wasn’t happy in my relationship but I had never even contemplated doing anything like this before. Not that I knew what “this” was. The one thing I was starting to realise was that I couldn’t ignore my feelings for Matt much longer as it wasn’t fair on either of us.

I picked up my phone and started reading through the text messages that I’d sent and received the previous night. I felt butterflies in my stomach and smiled to myself. Ouch my head. As I curled up on the sofa my phone vibrated with a new message:

From Foxy Scott:
Are you watching the game? Your team are going down! :-) x

Oh my God. He’s texted me. And with a kiss at the end!

He must have sobered up by now? I didn’t reply straight away – a girl doesn’t want to look too eager. I wondered if he was embarrassed by the messages he sent me last night. I mean, we shared an innocent(ish) kiss and then he sent me a string of text messages which basically said that he wanted to drag me back to his house and shag me silly.

I read the message again. The tone was quite flirty:

Your team are going down! :-) x

I suppose that a text about the football was a good ice breaker after last night’s antics, but the kiss was surplus to requirements if he was just being friendly. Was he?

All these thoughts going around in my head along with the background noise of the football lulled me back to sleep. I woke up with about half an hour of the game left and rubbed my eyes so I could focus on the TV screen. Arsenal were leading by two goals to one.

“Oh you’re awake then,” Matt said snidely. “I thought you supported Liverpool?”

“Yeah, I do,” I replied. “For some reason I didn’t get much sleep last night. I think there must have been a pig or something in the bedroom, and it didn’t stop snoring all night.”

Matt snorted and crossed his arms before turning his attention back to the television.

Well he can f*ck off.

I rubbed my eyes and checked my phone. No new texts, but then again I hadn’t replied to Scott’s first message so I wasn’t surprised. He doesn’t want to look too eager either. I thought about it and rewrote the message about five times before I sent it. It read:

To Foxy Scott:
I hope you’re not spending my ten pounds yet...
There’s still half an hour left. Come on Liverpool! :-)

After much internal debate I didn’t put a kiss at the end. I figured that the smiley face would show that I was being friendly or flirty depending on how you look at it, and if he chose to respond then whatever he wrote would be a good indication of whether he was just being friendly or not.

One minute later.

Buzz.

From Foxy Scott:
Your money is mine! I’m looking forward to going
into work tomorrow to collect my winnings! :-)x

OK. So I think I know what’s going.

Flirting. Definitely flirting.