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“It’s not that I can’t talk about it with you, alright? It’s that I can’t talk about it with anyone.”
I sound hurt now, more so than him.
He comes towards the bath and drops to his knees on the mat. “Lily, I don’t want to see you like this, that’s all.”
I nod my head though I feel like punching him. If he doesn’t want to see me like this, he could do the decent thing and finally admit how he feels… then be my boyfriend instead. The truth is, I’m scared of being single. I’m terrified of it.
“I’ll leave you to it,” he says, standing up.
I begin to protest, ready to beg him not to leave. He sees my face and reassures, “Just going to put on a film or something while you do your thing.”
I nod sharply.
Fuck, me.
This is a mess.
Chapter Four
I’m ready to tell him to go home, having worked myself up while in the bath. Entering the living room, I discover him on the sofa holding a beer from the fridge and the remote in his other hand, channel hopping. He turns to stare at me, standing across the room from him, wearing only my robe. I can’t find the words to tell him to go. I should be wrapping presents for tomorrow and sobbing into my cocoa because my boyfriend is abroad for the holidays – but all I see is Paul’s lovely face and his expectant expression. I can’t help myself.
He walks up to me and gently links his fingers through mine. “I should have used a condom earlier. I’m sorry.”
I look up and see pain in his eyes. “Is that all you’re worried about?”
He barks with laughter. “Yeah, well…”
“I’m on the pill, but anyway… I haven’t been with him in months.”
Paul’s face turns into a frown. “So, where’s he getting it, then? How do you know he hasn’t shagged around all the time you’ve been together?” He blows out a deep breath and folds his arms.
“To be honest, I don’t care. I don’t. And I always made him wear condoms. I don’t trust him.”
“So, why are you with him?” His frown deepens and I’m back to wanting to chuck him out.
“We share the rent,” I say with a laugh, even though it’s not at all funny.
He doesn’t look impressed, arms still folded, staring at the floor.
“What about you?” I add, poking my finger at his arm. “Do you wear condoms with the others?”
“You know I do,” he retorts, but knowing he can’t retract the truth behind his admission, he turns around and makes for the door – running away perhaps out of shame, or maybe because he’s not as in control when he’s with me.
“Paul,” I plead, and he halts just before the doorway.
“What?” he asks, biting out the word.
“Do you love me?” I have to ask. I’m scared and a little bit desperate at the thought of him leaving now and never seeing him again because he hates me.
When he turns around to face me, it’s as if his arms have grown longer, or else he’s hunched under the weight of what’s happening here.
“You’re one of my oldest friends, of course I love you,” he blurts.
“No, that’s not what I mean. You know what I mean. Do you love me…? Like that?”
I don’t want to be another notch on his bedpost, though I expect there are reasons behind his wanderlust – his inability to commit. I only want to know that I mean more to him than the others.
I’m fully expecting him to walk away and avoid any more questions, when instead, he comes barrelling across the room towards me and puts his arms around me.
