The room’s fading into a hazy darkness, it’s only around 9pm, but it could be the middle of the night for how pitch-black it is in here.
But, even in the darkness, the way his eyes search mine contradicts the teasing tone of his question. He’s looking for an actual answer. He wants me to say yes.
In general, Kian’s good at being honest, but right now I can tell he’s holding back on what he actually wants to say and I don’t like that. It sets me on edge.
When he doesn’t get an answer, he rolls off me, breathing heavily as his head hits the other pillow.
‘What do you mean?’ I finally ask, half hoping he doesn’t laugh in my face and shrug it off, half hoping he actually was just teasing and not trying to lock down the situation.
A couple of seconds of silence tick by, but then he leans up on his elbows to look me in the eye and asks, ‘Are you seeing anyone else right now?’
Is that what we’re doing? Seeing each other? Did I not realise that this was more than just sex? Panic rises in one massive ball in my throat and I can’t choke it down.
Kian must see it because he quickly corrects his words. ‘I mean, you’re only with me at the moment, right?’ It’s a desperate question, and we both know it. The only correct answer in his mind is yes. I nod. ‘Okay. So you won’t sleep with anyone else, right?’
Does he meanever? Because, like, I can’t promise that. Not in a million years. This works right now because we’re stuck in here, forced together, but that won’t always be the case. Kian will leave me because everyone always leaves me. He’ll get … bored, or I’ll piss him off, and he won’t want me anymore. Or, I’ll feel trapped and I’ll need the rush of someone wanting me. I’ll need to feel like I have options because I don’t want to start relying on him. I’m not stupid – I’ve had therapy. I know what I’m like.
The panic rises in a heart-fluttering, chest-squeezing sensation. It’s like a cage around my heart, trapping it so that it’s struggling to function correctly.
I try to form words, but my mouth is so dry they don’t come out.
It’s already incredibly awkward that I haven’t responded and the more time I take to do so, the worse it gets. I’m desperate to leave and at the same time have no desire to be anywhere other than here, lying next to him. I want to be held, to feel safe and wanted and yet I’m terrified.
It’s the most brutally overwhelming feeling, this contradiction that I can’t balance in my mind.
Luckily, I’m saved by my phone bleeping loudly and disturbing the awful silence.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, pulling my phone out from under the pillow to see a couple of texts from Johannes. The first text saysSOSand the second is a whole bunch of exclamation marks. ‘Oh fuck.’
I swing my legs off the bed, using the torchlight to find my boxers and the rest of my clothes when a third text containing the location of a bar comes through.
‘I’m so sorry, but Johannes just SOSed and we have this rule in our friendship that if either of us sends that text we have to go.’
Kian nods understandingly, but says nothing.
I know it probably seems convenient that this has happened at the exact time he’s trying to talk about us being exclusive or whatever, but them’s the rules of friendship.
It’s the first time in ages that Johannes has reached out and I want to know what’s been going on with him.
* * *
When I get there, I can tell Johannes is looking to pull; he’s prowling the bar with a determination I haven’t witnessed in a while. It’s been months since he’s been happy to just let me do my thing and wingman me. I’m not sure what’s changed, but tonight he’s dragging me into the thick of it.
I try to get him to tell me what’s going on and what’s happened but he doesn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t have a great race in Belgium, but I don’t think that’s what’s got to him.
‘How do we feel about twins?’ he asks, the rim of his glass poised at his lips. I don’t know what he’s drinking, but he’s clearly wanting a sesh.
I follow his line of sight to the bar, where indeed there are two identical men – hot as anything – watching us. One nudges the other and turns his head to say something. It’s clear they’re talking about us.
If I’m honest, they aren’t doing a thing for me, but it’s too late. Johannes is sliding sloppily out of his seat, clearly already on his way to being shitfaced. I watch him approach the twins and invite the pair back to our booth.
I’m stuck with Twin 2, who’s boring as hell and only interested in talking about his friend from university who he’s obviously in love with.
Even after all this, he asks me to go home with him.
‘I’m really sorry, but I’m not looking for anything tonight,’ I tell him.
Twin 2 looks at me like I’ve lost my mind and Johannes’s expression is comically surprised, too.
