You just look drunk.
Ah, do I? I don’t know, I suppose I shouldn’t have texted you. The stupid thing is, I was actually having a good night. I mean, okay, I went a bit overboard getting sick, but I was having a good time other than that. And you were probably having a fine time as well, lying in bed or whatever. So I shouldn’t have texted you really.
Right, but you felt like having sex, she said.
Well, I’m only human. Nah, but if that’s all I was after I could have gone elsewhere, couldn’t I? No need to bother you just for that.
She shut her eyes and said in a quiet, inexpressive voice: I’m sure that’s true.
Alice, don’t be looking so serious, he said. I haven’t been off with anyone else.
Obviously I could if I wanted to, but so could you. Look, I’m sorry if I’ve annoyed you, alright?
For a moment she said nothing.
And you probably don’t like being around drunk people anyway, he said.
No, I don’t.
No, why would you? I’d say you had enough of that growing up.
She stared up at him and he kept his hands on her hips, holding her against the wall.
Yes, I did, she said.
If you want me to go home, just say.
She shook her head. He kissed her again. They went upstairs together, Alice holding Felix’s hand and following behind him. In her room he took off her dressing gown and lifted her nightdress off over her head. She lay back on the bed and he went down on her. Her body looked compact, androgynous. She pressed her hand flat over her mouth.
He broke off then to undress himself and take his watch off. Looking down at her where she lay stretched out naked on the mattress, he said with a smile: Do you know what you look like? One of those girl statues we saw in Rome.
She laughed and covered her face.
Is that not nice? he said. It was meant nicely.
She said it was. He lay down beside her, his head propped up on the pillows, his hand toying idly with her small soft breast.
I was thinking about you at work today, he said. I find it makes me feel a bit better for a while but then I actually feel worse, because you’re lying around here all day and I’m stuck in a warehouse packing boxes. Not that I’m put out with you about it. I’m not going to be able to explain this the right way, but the difference between what we’re doing right now and what I do all day, I actually can’t describe. It’s hard to believe I have to use the same body for both things, I’ll say it like that. And it doesn’t feel like
the same. These hands touching you now, I use them to pack boxes? I don’t know. At work my hands are fucking freezing all the time. And like, basically numb. Even if you wear gloves they go numb eventually, everyone says that. Sometimes I’ll get a little cut or a scrape or something and I won’t even notice until I see it’s bleeding. And these are the same hands touching you? I don’t know, you probably think I’m off my head talking like that. But you’re very, very soft and nice to touch, that’s all. And warm. When you let me come inside you, I feel so good, I can’t even describe. I was thinking about that at work today and I wanted it so much I started getting annoyed. Like, annoyed, yeah, pissed off. That’s the other thing I will say about work, your feelings get really messed up in there. You start feeling things that make no sense. I should have been looking forward to seeing you, but I actually felt pissed off. And then I didn’t even want to see you anymore. There’s no point trying to explain it because it doesn’t make any sense, I’m just saying what I felt. I’m sorry.
She told him it was okay. For a little while he kissed her and said nothing. Then he asked if she would go on top because he was tired, and she said yes. Once he was inside her she was still for a few seconds, breathing hard. Okay? he said. She nodded. He looked content to wait. You have such a perfect cunt, he said. A shudder dropped over her, from her head down to her pelvic bone. She put a hand on his shoulder. They fucked slowly for a couple of minutes while he touched her. In a high uneven voice she said: Oh God, I’m in love with you, I really am. He looked up at her then. Are you, yeah? he said. That’s good. Say it again. Trembling, out of breath, she bent her head low, and said: I love you, I love you. He put his hands around her waist, his fingers pressing into the flesh of her back, and pulled her down hard onto him, again and again quickly, and she was wincing almost as if in pain.
Afterwards they were still for a while, resting against one another. Then she climbed off him, sat on the side of the mattress and took a drink from the water bottle on her bedside table. He lay down with his head nestled among the pillows, watching her. Pass me that when you’re finished, he said. She gave him the bottle and he drank without lifting his head.
Handing the bottle back, he said: Here, I want to know something. You know you’re always saying that you’re rich. What do you mean, are you a millionaire or what?
She screwed the cap back onto the bottle. About that, she said.
He watched her in silence. A million, really, he said. That’s a lot of money.
Yes it is.
All that just from books?
She nodded.
And just sitting in your bank account, or it’s all tied into things? he said.
Rubbing her eyes, she said it was mostly just sitting in her bank account. He was still watching her, his eyes moving quickly and discreetly over her face, her arms, her shoulders. After a time, he said: Come here and tell me you love me again. I could get to like it. With heavy, tired movements she lay back down beside him.
I love you, she said.
And when did you realise this? Love at first sight kind of thing, was it?
No, I don’t think so.
A bit later on, then, he said. In Rome?
She turned to him and he draped his arm over her body. Her eyes were half-closed. His face was thoughtful, alert.
I suppose so, she said.
That’s pretty quick to be falling in love with someone. What was it, maybe three weeks?