“I think I know what you mean,” he said softly.
“You do?”
“Let’s just say that kindness can be in short supply sometimes.” He sounded sad when he said that. And that gravity he’d shown a few moments ago was back again. Something was bubbling just below his surface, I could see that, but didn’t know what. We looked at each other for a moment, and it felt like something inside me knew something inside him. As if a part of me understood him in a way I wasn’t conscious of.
“Good night, Frankie,” he repeated softly. He had such a nice voice too. Deep and gravelly and I wondered why he didn’t also sing when he played the guitar.
“Night.” I closed the door behind me and climbed onto the bed. I didn’t care about removing my eye make-up or my clothes at this stage. Harun climbed up next to me and spread out like pancake batter being poured into a pan. God, I used to love pancakes. I hadn’t eaten one in years. And I mean,yeeeeeaaaarss.I almost didn’t know what they tasted like anymore. Harun readjusted himself and stretched out even more, until he took up most of the bed.
“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be,” I said, squashed into a small corner, almost clinging on. But Harun did nothing, except sigh loudly as if he was completely content.
I reached out and put a hand on his head. “It’s okay, boy,” I said. “You’ve probably never been in a bed before.” I lay there next to him in the silence and again he elicited that feeling in me, as if I could say anything to him.
“Can I tell you a secret?” I whispered, not really expecting a reply. “I think I like Mark. He’s nice, isn’t he?” I turned to Harun, to find him snoring.
I sat up and looked across at him. “Some help you are.” I yawned and then lay back down and shut my eyes.
CHAPTER 38
“What the . . .!” I flew out of bed, my heart thumping in my chest. The sun was streaming through the window and it looked like it was already late morning. Why hadn’t my alarm gone off? I scrabbled for my phone on the side of the bed, only to remember it was dead. I stood there in the room looking around. It took me a few seconds to recognize where I was. My body felt stiff and tight, mainly thanks to Harun. During the night he and I had been engaged in a battle for space and blankets. I’m afraid to say, he’d won. This was evident when I woke up and found myself at the bottom corner of the bed,a làfetal position, barely clinging on. A clock on the wall caught my attention; it said ten and my heart thumped again. I never woke up at this time. Waking up at this time threw my entire morning routine out. I yawned, still not fully awake.
I was determined to find coffee. I wasn’t hung-over or anything, but I did have a slightly heavy head that sat a little stiffer on my shoulders, the kind of head that told me I’d drunk the night before. The sticky coating over my tongue and mouth also told me that before I went to the kitchen, I needed to make a serious stop at the bathroom for a rendezvous with my toothbrush.
Mark was already in the kitchen when I got there. The smell of coffee came strong and delicious at me as I walked into the room.
“Morning,” he said. I was taken aback by this word, and it struck me as odd. A guy saying “morning” to me. Usually when guys say “morning” to you, it’s because you’ve spent the night together. Mark and I had not spent the night together. Well, not in that way, anyway. Suddenly, without trying to, I wondered what it would be like if Mark and I had spent the night together inthatway. I bet it would be good. The way he’d played that guitar so slowly, and passionately, and with such feeling, made me think he would be much better in bed than Kyle. Sex with Kyle had been okay, I guess. I’m not sure I would write home about it. And I never felt completely comfortable doing it either, I never took my clothes off fully and always made sure the lights were off.
Sometimes I’m convinced I’m being cheated out of good sex. You’re always reading these articles about multiple orgasms, or orgasms that last for days, and this multitude of different orgasms that we’re all supposed to be having. I’m not sure whether there’s a day-long orgasm out there waiting for me, but it would be nice to at least experience more of them in general. Not that I haven’t had one, but honestly, no ground has shaken for me yet, no mountains moved, and heavens opened and explosions happened. And it would be nice to feel more comfortable doing it in general. To be completely naked and feel utterly sexy . . .
“You okay?” he asked and I jumped, as if I’d been caught with my face in the cookie jar.
“Wh— fine?” I replied quickly.
“Looks like you were really pondering something there.”
I shook my head. “I’m just slow to wake up in the morning.”
“You feeling okay? Need some paracetamol?”
“No, I’m actually fine.”
“Good,” he said and handed me a cup of black coffee. “I don’t know how you take it. There’s milk and sugar on the counter.”
“Thanks.” I reached for the sugar and then stopped myself. I didn’t eat sugar. Not since I was fat. I glared at the sugar bowl, the little white, crystal-like beads staring back at me. Glinting in the sun . . . No, they weren’t glinting, but they should have been, because they were seriously calling my name right now.If I ate sugar and didn’t record it on my calorie-tracking app, did that mean I had really eaten it?
“It’s just sugar,” I heard Mark say behind me.
I shook my head. “Trust me. This is not just sugar, this is a gateway to very bad things.”
He laughed a little at this. “What bad things?”
“Fat cells,” I said flatly.
“You’re not going to eat one spoon of sugar and put on ten kilos,” he said.
“Mmmm, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” I replied.
Mark walked up to the bowl and before I knew what he was doing, he had shoved a spoon of pure sugar into his mouth. I shook my head and laughed.
