"Oh God," Rachel says, scrambling for her clothes, trying to cover her tits and her cunt with one arm. It's nothing like the "oh God" Ewan heard when he opened the front door. That one was followed by Jude's voice, something that sounded like "love you".
But it's just what you say to girls, isn't it? What gets them into bed. Or onto the sofa, as the case may be. It's not like Jude means it. He can't.
"Sorry," Ewan says eventually.
"I thought you weren't coming home tonight," Jude snaps, his cheeks bright red. He's got his jeans back on, but Ewan can still see the outline of his hard-on, and he knows he'll be wanking to the glimpse he caught before Jude covered up.
"I didn't pull," Ewan says, and then, suddenly angry at having to justify himself, "anyway, it's my flat, too."
Rachel's dressed now, hugging herself and looking like she wants to be anywhere but here. She's not the only one.
"Fuck it," Ewan says, "I'm going out again."
"No. You're right, it's your flat, too." And for a minute, Ewan's hopes rise. Stupidly. "We should have..." Jude waves his hand in the direction of his bedroom. "Too late now..."
Putting an arm around Rachel, he presses a kiss to the top of her head and murmurs "sorry, baby" so low Ewan can barely make it out. "Let me get my shirt on and I'll take you home."
This is not the way things are supposed to go. This isn't right at all.
Ewan's in the kitchen when they leave, getting a desperately needed beer, but the flat is small enough for him to hear Rachel say, "It's not that I don't like Ewan. I just wish you had your own place."
"Me, too," Jude says, and Ewan's gut twists and as the door clicks shut he lets out the breath he hadn't realised he was holding.