Page 46 of Take the Plunge

My chest tightens. “You’ve got a better offer?”

“I have a shampoo bottle with my name on it.”

I laugh.

“That’s better. Tough week?”

“You could say that.”

“I could help you relax.”

“I know you could.” I sigh.

“Do you want me to?”

I do. So much. “I don’t want to use you.”

He doesn’t reply right away. “How is it using me if I want the same thing?”

“Good point.” Just like that, any resolve I might have had to end this thing between us dissipates in a puff of smoke. If he’s fine with casual, no-strings, exploratory sex, why shouldn’t I be? As long as we’re both on the same page, no one is going to get hurt.

“That’s me,” Kian says. “The voice of reason. Do you want me to come over?”

“Yes.”

“Give me half an hour. See you soon.” The phone goes dead.

I finish my food and tidy up my flat. All I have to do is hide all the threatening letters from creditors and plump up my cushions. I make sure I’ve got condoms and lube in case things get that far. It’s been a while since I’ve had anyone here for sex, but I can’t go to Kian’s. His parents let him move back in with them after his undergraduate degree, so he doesn’t have to take loans out to pay for rent, bills, and food while he does his postgrad. Going to his would remind me too much of being a teenager and having to sneak around. I’m sure the fear of getting caught would kill my sexual appetite in a heartbeat.

When Kian arrives, I buzz him into the building. I wait at the door to my flat.

As he exits the stairwell, his face is a little flushed. “The lift was broken.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Hey, no worries. I needed a workout today.” He goes to peck my cheek, but I pull away so he can’t.

My stomach churning, I step into the flat and usher him in.

He hesitates, mouth quivering for a moment, but then he grins and comes inside. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been to your flat before.” His otherwise cheerful smile has a wobbling undercurrent.

Which is my fault. I shouldn’t have flinched away. It was just a peck on the cheek, for fuck’s sake. It’s not like I don’t want him to kiss me. I do. I’m hungry for his lips, just not where prying neighbours can see.

“It’s nothing much.” How can I vocalise any of that?

The small square hallway has four doors, two leading to the left and two to the right. I take him through the second door on the right into my tiny kitchen, past the table for two that I bought from a charity shop and into the living room. The small sofas used to belong to my gran. The huge flower print in browns and blues wouldn’t have been my choice. I swapped them for the expensive ones I bought to furnish the apartment I shared with Erica. They were too big for this space, but Gran, thinking all her Christmases had come at once, was happy to take them off my hands. I found the coffee table and sideboard at the tip and did them up by sanding them and giving them a fresh coat of paint. The shitty TV was another charity shop find. Nothing matches, yet somehow the furniture doesn’t look awful together.

“Aww, don’t say that,” Kian says. “It’s lovely. Oh, wow, you have a Juliet balcony.”

He goes straight to the patio door, slides it open, and steps onto the minuscule balcony that only has room to stand on if you don’t have big feet. The balcony looks onto another block of flats.

He grasps the chest-high plate glass fence and looks over the edge. “Hmm, a bit too high for Romeo to climb up. Shame.” He turns around, leans against the fence, and grins at me. “Have you ever been tempted to stand out here and quote Shakespeare?”

“No. Are you?”

He laughs. “Maybe. It would be fun. I might change some of the words, though. Exercise a bit of poetic licence. What do you think?” He presses one hand to his chest and holds his other arm out, fingers outstretched towards me. “Jett, Jett, where for art thou, Jett?” He purses his lips. “It doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it? It’s probably to do with not having enough syllables or something. Shakespeare was big on syllables. Iambic pentameter or something like that? It’s been a while since I studied Shakespeare.”

I shake my head. “Come here, you loon.”