Klint leaves me to sulk and uses the bathroom. While he’s in there, I take the opportunity to message Dain.
Me:Hi, hope you’re feeling more human after our adventure on the moors. I know I am. Just wanted to say thanks again. And to let you know that Klint has decided that we’re going back to Oxford tomorrow. Yes, as you may surmise from that, I’m in the doghouse. Maybe I should take you up on that offer after all, haha.
Dain (two minutes later):Sorry Lizzy, I should’ve come in and explained the situation to him.
Klint exits the bathroom as I’m typing out a perfectly innocuous reply.
‘Who’re you messaging?’
‘No one.’
Before I can stop him, he swipes my phone out of my hand and speeds away to the other side of the room. He stands by the window, reading the message thread, and his face slowly turns puce. He jabs at the screen with his finger. ‘What offer?’ he splutters.
‘Nothing. It was a joke.’
‘So now the two of you are laughing at me?’
‘Jesus, I was thanking him! Can I have my phone back please?’
‘No, I don’t want you messaging with him again.’
‘Seriously? You’re confiscating my phone?’
‘You’ve done it to yourself.’
I watch in dread as Klint types something and sends it to Dain, smirking to himself. ‘There, that should warn him off.’
‘What the hell did you send to him?’
‘Only what you should have said in the first place. You have weak boundaries, Lizzy, and you act ambiguously. Guys like him see it as an invitation to take advantage. But don’t worry, he’s got the message loud and clear that you’re off-limits.’
Oh god, I can only imagine what he’s said.
All through the afternoon, I’m desperate to have my phone back so I can do damage control. But Klint is adamant that he’s holding on to it so I don’t fall into “Dain’s trap”—whatever that is.
‘Stop treating me like a 3-year-old!’
‘Well, if the cap fits!’
At dinner, we bicker in muted tones with our heads down so we don’t disturb the other diners. But I’m sure they’re aware we’re having issues by the tension that’s strung tight across the table like a rubber band. Not even Gareth, who comes over to congratulate me on arriving back safely, can dissipate the outrage that’s brewing deep within me. Klint is obviously testing me, and I’m failing badly. But it’s Dain’s feelings I’m worrying about, and it’s driving me mental thinking that he’s been hurt by Klint’s reply.
I roll my eyes at him. ‘I can’t imagine what wickedness I’ll get up to between now and tomorrow. Just give it back.’
‘I’m not taking any chances.’ He pats his blazer pocket, where he’s stashed my phone. Grrr, maybe I can tackle him on the stairs, kick him in the nuts, and grab it while he’s bent over, clutching his goolies.
But even that satisfaction is denied me because he insists I go up the stairs first, as if he’s cottoned on to my plan. In the room, he carries my phone with him into the bathroom and slides it under his butt cheek in bed. I assume he’s going to lie on it all night like a guard dog. There’s nothing I can do.
He makes no attempt to push the beds back together either, so there’s no ‘kiss and make up’ sex for me. The atmosphere between us is chillier than a freezer; and for all his posturing about me running into the arms of another man, ironically, Klint is the one who’s pushing me out into the cold.
***
It’s not until we’re on the train the next morning and I’m sitting glumly, looking out at the passers-by and wishing I had their lives, that Klint relents and places my phone on the table between us.
‘There you go.’ He looks at me expectantly, and I stare at him.
‘If you want me to say “thank you”, you’ll be waiting a while.’
He shrugs. ‘You may not like what I did, but you’ll thank me later and realise it was for the best.’
