I woke up and rolled over. There was no sign of Christian. There was no dent on his pillow. He hadn't slept with me.
Forlorn, I decided it was inappropriate to stay in his bed and got up. There was no note left; I assumed he was at work - it was the afternoon already, I'd slept right through. I went into the bathroom and caught sight of my face in the mirror - I looked terrible. I had to get home and shower.
I opened the door to leave and almost walked straight into Christian.
"Sorry, I just woke up, I promise." Oh god, what he must think about the fact I was still in his flat? And why did he have to see me looking like this? "I was just going home, I need a shower and..."
"Have a shower here," he suggested, as if this was the done thing.
I began to say 'don't be silly' but his eyes corroborated his words before I got the chance to speak. There was a tone of finality to the look on his face and I yielded, still unsure of what he implied. I walked slowly, hesitantly, towards the bathroom wondering whether this was him being kind or whether he intended to join me. I was utterly confused.
I stepped out of the shower and dried off with a spare towel. He hadn't come in. I wondered why he'd suggested I stay at all. Tying the towel around my waist, I walked back into the main room. He was sat on his sofa and turned to look at me. My gaze faltered but when I looked back up at him, his eyes were still fixed on me.
"Come here, Sy."
I stood rooted to the spot. I didn't get this.
"Come on."
I walked over and stood in front of him. He brushed my arm and then tugged at my towel. It dropped to the floor and I felt naked in every sense of the word. As uncomfortable as I was, I didn't move. This didn't feel sexual. It felt sinister. But still I remained there, his face in line with my crotch, him not even pretending to look anywhere else. Semi-consciously I moved my hips towards him so we were touching. It was then that he looked up at me.
"Is that what you want?"
I couldn't tell if it was rhetorical. I didn't know the answer in any case. He held me steady against his cheek and then turned his head and licked me, slowly, firmly.
"Is that what you want?" he asked again.
"No."
"Then what do you want?"
It was the million dollar question, I guess. I suppose that's why he was asking it. But it wasn't fair to ask it when I felt this vulnerable. My mind dared not think.
He took me in his mouth this time, his hot, wet tongue massaging me, asking questions of me. My body responded with no cool, no grace, betraying me. My legs almost gave way beneath me and a shiver went up my spine. He took me out and stood up so we were face to face, his wrought with... anger, I think.
"What the fuck do you want?"
I knew how I must have been coming across but I literally couldn't speak. I felt five years old, almost afraid – of myself and of him. I didn't understand this game. I knew what I didn't want. I didn't want to stand here naked, exposed, in front of him whilst he was fully clothed, still in his jacket. I tugged at his open jacket zip hoping he'd understand me.
"You want me bare too, eh? You want us both laid bare?"
He ripped off each layer like it was an insult to his being, his manner aggressive, powerful. He finally stood naked before me and stood so close we were touching below the waist. It was a disconcerting juxtaposition as my mind stayed afraid but my body thought to respond. It didn't though and I was grateful.
"I'm not going to ask again. You don't know what you want, do you? Do you?" His voice was less menacing now but it remained bitter. He didn't need my 'no'. "Well, then you had no right to come here after our last conversation. I told you I was done with this. I made it clear and you should have respected that."
"Like you respected my marriage? My engagement?" I don't know how I'd suddenly gotten brave but tears clouded my vision and I was trembling slightly with defiance.
"How dare you even compare then to now? That engagement you didn't even respect yourself. And I left you to 'enjoy' your marriage until it was clear beyond all doubt that there was no joy in it whatsoever. That it was doomed to fail, like I'd told you. Your heart was with me that whole time and that girl... urgh, don't actually get me started, Syed. Don't throw that at me because I have been consistent with you from the start."
"Well so have I! You have no idea what it's like for me and you don't even try to see. You know there's part of me that wants you and part of me that can't." I sniffed and tried to hold back the tears that were already flooding down my face. "I'm yanked from both sides and no one actually tries and understands! No one puts themselves in my shoes. Because I can't say no to you but then I go home and I can't deal with all the damage I've caused and no one cares. And all I'm trying to do is what's right or nothing at all and I still get it wrong! Everyone hates me, and you wonder why I can't answer your fucking question!"
I was crying buckets by now, my face hot, my sobs inelegant.
I managed to catch my breath and steady myself somewhat, at that point realising I'd had no arms around me all this time. I wiped my tears away so I could see and looked up at Christian, more confused than I'd ever been. He stood there, calmly I thought, poised. Then I noticed how pale he had turned and the weak, sporadic breaths that stuttered from his mouth. My own heartbeat faltered – what was I witnessing here?
