tattoo I would have chosen myself, if I
had chosen to have a tattoo, which was unlikely. He had a
line of dark chest hair starting midway down his stomach.
He had the merest hint of a beer belly, a tiny soft little
paunch that he tried to suck in. He had freckles on the
backs of his shoulders. He liked to bite and knew where to
make it hurt in a good way: deep into the dip between my
neck and my shoulder.
The sex was nice. It was friendly and comfortable and
warm, and soft in the right ways. Afterwards we snuggled
together on the sofa and listened to music. Danny gave me
one of his shirts to wear, and he pulled on his T-shirt and
boxers and played DJ. As he'd done so often before, he
played songs that he thought I'd like, or that he thought I
ought to like, from CDs and LPs and even some vinyl
singles. He made instant coffee in chipped, stained mugs
and as usual I pretended to like it. He found some slightly
soft chocolate Hobnobs and we finished the packet. We
talked about the music he was playing, and then he stood
up and beckoned me over. He wanted to dance. I looked
at him standing there, tall and dark and much better looking
than I usually gave him credit for. Such a lovely
man. Such a good friend. The sex had been so nice. I
wanted him. I wanted to dance with him. I wanted to be
with him. I pulled the shirt around me, shook my head and
burst into tears.
'Hey, what's up?'
His voice was so gentle that it made me cry even more.
I shrugged my shoulders.
'What did I do?'
'Nothing. It's just me. I'm a bit emotional at the
moment.'
Danny frowned, deep in thought. I figured he was
probably about to ask me if I was premenstrual. I thought
that was probably what was going through his mind. But
instead, 'Is this because you "don't do relationships"?' He
did the inverted commas with his voice. He twisted his
face as he asked the question, looking like he was afraid
what the answer would be.
'Oh God, Danny, I don't know. Stop quoting me. I
don't know what I'm doing, all right?'
He stroked my arm.
'And stop being so bloody nice.'
He looked at me again as a sudden thought appeared to
cross his mind. 'Are you worried this might spoil our
friendship?'
I nodded. It was all I could manage to do. Don't let go.
Don't let go. Mustn't let go. Keep these emotions in check.
Don't let him see how scared you are.
'I like you. You like me. We get on really well. This
has been fun. It would be nice to do it again some time.
This doesn't have to be a big deal.' Danny was talking to
me very quietly and simply, all the while stroking my
arm. 'Look, we're both a bit shit at relationship stuff. I
know there's something about you, Beth. I'm guessing
there's something that's made you scared. Maybe you'll
tell me about it one day. But I don't really need to know,
okay?'
I was shaking. He was being so sweet that I thought
maybe I was on the verge of telling him the whole story. I
was very tempted. How easy it would have been. I
wondered what he would say. But I knew I couldn't tell
him. I couldn't tell him the truth. Why the hell did he have
to be so nice? I pressed my lips together tightly to stop any
more words coming out. I set my chin firmly, reached out
my arms and hugged Danny hard.
'Stay the night?' he asked, gently, quietly; as if he
didn't want me to hear the question in case the answer
wasn't what he wanted.
Half of me thought it was a mistake, a dreadful mistake.
There was no way I should drag him into the awful mess
that was my life. But the other half of me thought that that
had already happened. I had already had sex with him so
maybe it was too late. All I could think about was how
much I hated my flat, and how white and empty it was,
and how much I didn't want to go back there; and how
lovely this hug felt, so I nodded. 'Yes,' I whispered. I
figured that I could deal with the fallout later.
Nine
This was weird. I felt good. I felt fine. I felt happy.
A couple of days after sleeping with Danny I
checked myself in the mirror
had chosen to have a tattoo, which was unlikely. He had a
line of dark chest hair starting midway down his stomach.
He had the merest hint of a beer belly, a tiny soft little
paunch that he tried to suck in. He had freckles on the
backs of his shoulders. He liked to bite and knew where to
make it hurt in a good way: deep into the dip between my
neck and my shoulder.
The sex was nice. It was friendly and comfortable and
warm, and soft in the right ways. Afterwards we snuggled
together on the sofa and listened to music. Danny gave me
one of his shirts to wear, and he pulled on his T-shirt and
boxers and played DJ. As he'd done so often before, he
played songs that he thought I'd like, or that he thought I
ought to like, from CDs and LPs and even some vinyl
singles. He made instant coffee in chipped, stained mugs
and as usual I pretended to like it. He found some slightly
soft chocolate Hobnobs and we finished the packet. We
talked about the music he was playing, and then he stood
up and beckoned me over. He wanted to dance. I looked
at him standing there, tall and dark and much better looking
than I usually gave him credit for. Such a lovely
man. Such a good friend. The sex had been so nice. I
wanted him. I wanted to dance with him. I wanted to be
with him. I pulled the shirt around me, shook my head and
burst into tears.
'Hey, what's up?'
His voice was so gentle that it made me cry even more.
I shrugged my shoulders.
'What did I do?'
'Nothing. It's just me. I'm a bit emotional at the
moment.'
Danny frowned, deep in thought. I figured he was
probably about to ask me if I was premenstrual. I thought
that was probably what was going through his mind. But
instead, 'Is this because you "don't do relationships"?' He
did the inverted commas with his voice. He twisted his
face as he asked the question, looking like he was afraid
what the answer would be.
'Oh God, Danny, I don't know. Stop quoting me. I
don't know what I'm doing, all right?'
He stroked my arm.
'And stop being so bloody nice.'
He looked at me again as a sudden thought appeared to
cross his mind. 'Are you worried this might spoil our
friendship?'
I nodded. It was all I could manage to do. Don't let go.
Don't let go. Mustn't let go. Keep these emotions in check.
Don't let him see how scared you are.
'I like you. You like me. We get on really well. This
has been fun. It would be nice to do it again some time.
This doesn't have to be a big deal.' Danny was talking to
me very quietly and simply, all the while stroking my
arm. 'Look, we're both a bit shit at relationship stuff. I
know there's something about you, Beth. I'm guessing
there's something that's made you scared. Maybe you'll
tell me about it one day. But I don't really need to know,
okay?'
I was shaking. He was being so sweet that I thought
maybe I was on the verge of telling him the whole story. I
was very tempted. How easy it would have been. I
wondered what he would say. But I knew I couldn't tell
him. I couldn't tell him the truth. Why the hell did he have
to be so nice? I pressed my lips together tightly to stop any
more words coming out. I set my chin firmly, reached out
my arms and hugged Danny hard.
'Stay the night?' he asked, gently, quietly; as if he
didn't want me to hear the question in case the answer
wasn't what he wanted.
Half of me thought it was a mistake, a dreadful mistake.
There was no way I should drag him into the awful mess
that was my life. But the other half of me thought that that
had already happened. I had already had sex with him so
maybe it was too late. All I could think about was how
much I hated my flat, and how white and empty it was,
and how much I didn't want to go back there; and how
lovely this hug felt, so I nodded. 'Yes,' I whispered. I
figured that I could deal with the fallout later.
Nine
This was weird. I felt good. I felt fine. I felt happy.
A couple of days after sleeping with Danny I
checked myself in the mirror
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