Page 86 of People Skills

‘Good for Nathan.’

We smile at each other, and Xavier holds up Emma.

‘Well, back to the grind,’ he says.

‘Jane Austen is not a grind.’

‘No, she’s not. Mrs Elton has just come on the scene, so shit’s going down.’

‘Well, enjoy. I’m going to have an early night.’

‘Will you see him again?’

‘Not sure.’

‘Not sure? After an amazing date?’

‘Sometimes it’s nice to have one perfect night and leave it at that.’

Xavier gives me a long look. ‘That sounds very safe for you.’

I make a noncommittal noise. I am not here to be therapised by him.

‘Did you want to read out here together for a while?’ he says.

I am about to say no, because I need to be alone and let myself sink into the horrors of the date, but I look at his face, his sweatpants and his warm socks, the Jane Austen in his hand, the cosiness of it all, and the thought of getting into my comfy clothes too, and maybe having a cup of tea, the warmth of companionable silence, a nice moment after a series of uncomfortable ones, and it’s all too appealing.

‘Okay,’ I say.

And forty minutes later, as I am sinking in the pages of Emma, as I snuggle under my blanket, with big cushions behind my head and Xavier in the corner of my eye, I let my guard down. I have the urge to be honest with him.

‘The date wasn’t great,’ I say, into the silence.

He puts his book down immediately. He looks eager, too eager, to hear the details.

‘I knew it,’ he says. ‘From your face.’

‘Why do you sound smug?’

‘I’m not. Sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. What happened?’

‘We didn’t click.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘He put his finger in my tiramisu.’

Xavier sits up and goes a little pale. ‘I’m sorry, what? He put his finger where?’

‘I’m not talking in euphemisms. He put his literal finger in my literal tiramisu dessert. I went to the bathroom and as I was coming back, I saw him do it and put it back on my side like he never touched it.’

‘That’s sick. That is sick behaviour.’

‘I thought so.’

‘Did you eat it?’

‘A few bites from the side he didn’t touch.’