I don’t know what else to say, what else to offer. ‘Ben’s invited us all to his over Christmas. Are you going?’ I hate myself for the sudden change of subject.
‘I’ll go if Ollie goes,’ she says. ‘But if I ask him, I’ll feel as if I’m putting him on the spot.’
I baulk at this. ‘Really? You can ask him surely? It’s a legit question.’
‘Maybe. Can you ask him?’ Liv enquires hopefully. ‘Then I can plan if I’m going.’
I lift my eyebrows. ‘Uh … OK.’
‘If Ollie doesn’t go, I’ll be third-wheeling.’
‘Oh, I get it,’ I say. Sort of. Although why does Liv think it’ll be any different if I ask Ollie? ‘I’m really looking forward to going to Ben’s,’ I confide.
Liv smiles, misunderstanding as she says, ‘You two are very sweet. Nice that he wants to invite you to his home after dating for such a short time. He’s a keeper.’
‘Yeah,’ I say thoughtfully. ‘He might be.’
Actually, I’m really looking forward to being nosy, seeing where Ben lives, what his house is like, which I imagine is enormous. I’m looking forward to meeting his parents and working out exactly how loaded Ben is. I want to see his life, see how well he lives. He’s let on that he’s got a swimming pool, dropping it into the conversation so casually, as part of a story he was telling me, that he totally missed my excited gasp and the fact I stopped listening to the rest of the story. I suspect he’sveryloaded. But weirdly I can’t tell Liv any of this, because I don’t think she’d get my curiosity. I think she lives very similarly. I could tell Ollie, though. He’d get it. I might tell him when I’m forced to ask him if he’s coming along. I’d love to go as a four. It would take the pressure off me going alone with Ben.
I’ve already said I’ll go, because it will be fun. A change of scenery. A little festive holiday out in the Wiltshire countryside. I’ve never been to Wiltshire. But it feels too soon to go to his house, doesn’t it? We’ve only been dating –or whatever bonkers set-up it is that we’re doing, which doesn’t really have a name –for a few weeks.
My past relationships have felt very ‘kiddy’ up until now. Perhaps it’s something to do with living away from home. Perhaps it’s something to do with living with the man I’m seeing, although we’ve only just turned into voting, drinking adults. It feels like growing up so fast – too fast. But in a good way that’s hard to explain.
Prior to Ben there was Will, in my final year of GCSEs when we held hands, kissed in darkened cinemas and did appropriately PG levels of touching. After that I dated Liam, who I met through friends in my first year of A-Levels. He was my first sexual experience. And then we broke up when it turned out he fancied my friend more. I’d already moved on mentally, though, ready to complete my A-Levels with zero distractions once the honeymoon period had worn off. Although it took a year and a half for that to happen, by which point we were well and truly sleeping together. In the back of his car, mostly, in car parks. I thought I was in love with Liam, and perhaps I was for a while. But at the end I wasn’t. That’s just the way it goes, I guess. Everything comes to an end eventually.
Living with Ben, seeing him daily – I’m not used to that. The pace is unavoidable. Perhaps that’s why he’s very cleverly slowed us down.
We’re cosied up in his bed a week later when I ask him about previous relationships. Quite frankly, I’m amazed we’ve made this last a month. His fingers are entwined with mine, and the scent of his aftershave as I kiss his neck is making me friskier than both of us would like. We’ve mainly been in the union bar, or making dinner as a three or a four, depending on where everyone is at meal times. Today Liv and Ollie are out together. There was talk of a proper date for dinner and a film.
‘Stop it,’ Ben groans as my mouth travels from his clavicle to his neck, up to his ear. We’ve been kissing on his bed and I’m into it, into him. More so since he slowed us down,although I didn’t realise it until now. We’ve not had much chance to be alone – truly alone – in this flat. And when we have, it’s snatched minutes. I know he’s into this too. The visual signs in his trousers tell me as much.
‘Why stop?’ I ask. ‘Did you do this celibacy routine with other girls?’ I whisper into his ear.
He groans again, stands up with surprising speed and moves to the other side of the room. ‘If I can’t trust you not to seduce me, then we’re going to have to have an all-out bedroom ban.’
‘I don’t know why – a month on – you’re still making us do this,’ I moan.
‘I told you. We went too fast. I just want to start again. Call me a romantic.’
‘You really are very sweet. But I didn’t have you down as being this monastic. You’ve certainly got some staying power.’
‘Monastic?’ he guffaws.
‘Celibate?’ I attempt.
‘I’m neither of those things,’ Ben says. ‘And you know that. But with the pace we’ve all had, hitting the ground running with lectures and your job and your epic reading schedule, I forgot part of my plan was dating you. Instead you’ve had your face buried in a book or we’ve met in the union. That wasn’t my plan.’ A sudden thought grips him and he throws his hands out excitedly. ‘Let’s go out for dinner.’
‘Now? I can’t spend more than I earn,’ I tell him sagely. ‘I’ve had to spend loads on textbooks and food, and I’m still waiting for that credit card.’
‘You don’t need a credit card,’ Ben scoffs. ‘Come on. Get dressed. We’re going into town.’
‘You can’t keep paying for me,’ I tell him as he grabs my hand, pulls me from his bed and ushers me towards my own room.
He dips his head, kisses me, offers me one of his winning smiles. ‘Of course I can,’ he says. ‘Who else am I going to spend my trust fund on?’
‘Trust fund?’ I ask. ‘Is that a wind-up?’
‘I’m joking,’ he says. ‘I’m joking.’
