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He cast a disbelieving glance over her, eyebrow arched. “Why, did you lose twelve inches? Go on a spin cycle when you’re not tumble dryer-safe?”
“Funny. No, it’s just a T-shirt I got from some night out at uni. I don’t know why I’ve still got it, really.”
She did know, but she wasn’t about to share. She knew how pathetic it’d make her sound. Eloise disappeared back to her room for the T-shirt, a black one that had a club’s logo on the left side of the chest and giant white lettering on the back saying ‘Don’t be #whiskeysour’ and ‘£1 shots all night’.
It wasn’t even something she should have felt sentimental about, and she knew it was stupid that she did. But Josh had been with her that night. He’d played beer pong and won the shirt, which he’d given to her. She’d worn it over her dress all night.
It was just a stupid T-shirt, but that had been the last time she’d been with Josh before everything had gone wrong.
Over five years together, and he’d ended it out of the blue to go travelling with some girl he knew from his uni course.
As if it was Eloise’s fault she’d been on her teacher training and then starting a job in a primary school. As if it was her decision to be sensible about her career when it was just starting out that had been the last straw in their relationship. Not his decision to pass up a really good grad scheme and go gallivanting around Europe and Asia for months on end instead.
A holiday to Thailand – sure, she’d have loved it. But months backpacking around, and sacrificing a job she really wanted to do it? He’d always known that wasn’t her thing.
(It hadn’t been his thing either, until Alyssa had convinced him to go along with her.)
It didn’t stop her from checking Josh’s Instagram before she went to bed, though, bitterly realising how happy he was without her. He’d been updating all his social media with photos of him and his new girlfriend all over the world, rubbing salt in the wound.
It stung, when she’d worked so hard to keep their relationship together while they had been studying at different universities.
It stung even more when she thought about how she was the one who’d always had to put in that effort: he always had some excuse why he couldn’t visit her, but she could come to him, or why he hadn’t been able to text her back (but had no problem uploading Snapchat stories with his mates).
“’Night, Eloise,” Jamie called from the living room.
She almost dropped her phone on her face, but composed herself quickly, the wine already wearing off.
“’Night.”
It was nice to have someone to say goodnight to, for a change.
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