About Last Night

“Hopeless,” she echoed. The whole situation was hopeless.

“All right.” He took a step back. “You know where I live. Anytime you want to drop by, you’re welcome.” He gave her a smile, slightly strained. “And I do mean anytime.”

“Don’t hold your breath, City.” The statement came out all trembly.

“If you don’t turn up, I’ll be thinking of you,” he said, running his palm down her cheek. “But I’d rather you turned up.”

He winked and walked away.

The doorbell rang at half past one, waking him from an unpleasant dream about jury service and long, echoing hallways. It took him a moment to understand the sound, but once he did, he knew it could only be Cath.

Don’t hold your breath, she’d said. He’d taken her at her word, but he’d hoped she would come nonetheless. And now she was here.

After buzzing her in, he left the door ajar and went looking for something to wear. Probably best not to greet her starkers. He found an old pair of tracksuit bottoms. When he returned to the hall, she stood in the entranceway, fidgety and smaller than he’d remembered.

She wore a black T-shirt and shorts. Always black. But now he knew to wonder what color her bra and knickers would be.

“I woke you up,” she said, with a hint of surprise, as if she’d expected he might be awake and puttering about the flat.

“I don’t mind.” Should he make her a cup of tea? Play this slowly and carefully, as befitted a delicate situation?

No. Just as well to lay his cards on the table. He didn’t have much of a hand, anyway. “Want to come back to bed with me?”

She smiled a little, then looked down at her feet. “I can’t date you. I’m sorry. I’m just too— It’s complicated.”

“All right.” It was bad news, but he wasn’t daft. Clearly, Cath had intimacy issues. Just as clearly, she hadn’t come here in the middle of the night to tell him to keep away from her. “So do you want to come back to bed with me?”

“Yes.”

He reached around her to push the door shut, took her by the hand, and led her to his room.

He undressed her, tucking them both under the sheet. Her bra and knickers turned out to be pink, her skin already flushed and damp from the walk over. She smelled of oranges and licorice—sweet, tangy, and dark. She’d arrived locked down, but when he kissed her she swung open, so smoothly and easily he could almost forget she’d been otherwise. She was an enigma, this woman. Bold and reticent, passionate and distant. Open and shut. Completely fascinating.

“What changed your mind?” he asked, tracing the shape of her shoulder with his index finger.

She smiled, and it made him slightly stupid, as it always did. “My roommate.”

He’d imagined her living alone. “Oh?”

“She has this boyfriend who comes over, and they disappear into her room for hours. I can only assume they’re having sex in there—sometimes they come out in robes, all messy—but it’s c

ompletely silent. Like, her mattress is creaking, and maybe her bed is even banging against the wall that’s right next to my head when I’m trying to sleep, and I’m lying there, totally unable to do anything but listen, and they’re both completely silent.”

“I see.” He didn’t, but he loved listening to her talk. The words poured out of her at a rapid clip. She had so much energy, it seemed to come off her in waves. It turned him on.

“I’m not sure you do. I’m lying there thinking, Are they quiet because the sex is really bad? But if so, why have so much of it? Once a night would do, right? If it was that bad? But then if it’s really great sex, are they biting the pillows or something? Do they gag themselves? Are they trying to be considerate? Do they think I might not know what they’re doing in there if they stay silent? Because it’s not considerate. It’s creepy.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“And then I’m getting angry, because why should I be losing sleep thinking about my roommate’s sex life? Her sex life is an insult to sex. If it were any good, she’d be making more noise, pillow biting or no pillow biting.”

He kissed her then, unable to resist that mobile mouth for another second. She tasted minty, like she’d cleaned her teeth before she came around. “So you thought to yourself, I could be having excellent sex right now,” he said against her lips. “Really excellent, really loud, proper sex.”

She sighed, a performance of resignation. “Exactly. And after that, there was no hope of resisting.”

“You had something to prove.”

“I did.”