I wake the next morning to find Ben has brought me coffee, the granules still visible, floating on top, where he’s given it only a cursory stir.
‘I can’t remember if you like coffee or tea, so I took a gamble on coffee,’ he says, wearing only his boxers. ‘And then I had to rush as I could hear Ollie and Liv waking up, talking. I had to dart out and then dart back in again,’ he continues in an excited sort of whisper.
I blink in confusion while he hurriedly hands me a coffee at the same time as I’m trying to sit up in bed. I can’t speak, think or function much like a human before coffee. So I just stare at Ben as he talks at me. The first sip is always the best and, on my second, I feel the sticky granules gluing themselves to my tongue. I grab a pen and put it in the mug, stirring until the coffee turns a uniformly smooth brown colour.
‘So how are we going to play this?’ he asks.
I’m two sips in. It’s not enough for conversation, but I attempt, ‘Play what?’
‘It occurred to me, when I was trying to make coffee as silently as possible, that you were trying your best to kick me out last night.’
As it’s not a question and my brain isn’t even in first gear yet, I don’t reply.
‘Why?’ Ben prompts.
I sip more coffee. ‘I feel as if this should be really obvious,’ I dare.
‘Afraid not,’ he replies, budging me over and sitting on the bed, facing me.
‘Are you going to make me say the words?’ I ask.
‘What words?’ he replies, perplexed.
I whisper it conspiratorially, ‘One. Night. Stand.’
He doesn’t speak, just sort of looks at me, then takes a sip of coffee. ‘Oh,’ he replies.
What kind of response is that?‘Oh?’ I echo.
‘You want to pretend it didn’t happen.’ He’s not asking me, he’s surmising.
‘No. That’s not it at all. I just don’t …’
‘… want other people to know?’ he finishes for me. ‘Them.’ He points towards the door, in the direction of the corridor where Ollie and Liv are creeping around. I wonder if they’re having a version of this conversation too.
‘Well, yeah,’ I admit. ‘I think we should probably keep it between us, so that we don’t make things awkward.’
‘Are you ashamed?’ he asks. ‘Because I’m not.’
‘What? No.’
‘So why are we pretending to other people it didn’t happen?’
‘Because it’s awkward … we’ll make things awkward, won’t we?’ I point out.
‘Will we? I won’t. I enjoy your company. You’re fun. I hope you like me too.’
‘I do.’
‘Then we can just – you know – mess around a bit here and there, if you like. Let’s not try and label anything, but let’s not shut it down immediately, either. Unless of course you really want to.’ Ben leaves that suggestion hanging there.
‘I don’t know what I want,’ I say. ‘Honestly, I thought it would be one and done, and now you’re making me coffee and being really sweet and not at all what I thought you’d be, the morning after.’
‘What did you think I’d be, the morning after?’ he asks, and his features lift a smile into place as he waits for me to put my foot in it, say something rude.
‘I thought you’d really relish leaving my room this morning, letting everyone know you got laid and that, instead of it being a walk of shame, you’d consider it more … a victory lap.’
‘Avictorylap?’ Ben explodes with laughter.
