not. She is the sort of person who ‘sees where the night takes her’. It’s only coincidence that her body is hair-free and moisturised, and that her underwear is matching. ‘How well did that work out?’ she’ll laugh gleefully afterwards, pointing to her perfectly groomed pubes, full of naked body confidence.
I, meanwhile, pass the time by laying my head on the desk, my neck twisted to one side, staring at the blades of the fan whirring around.
It’s fine, I mutter to myself. It’s just sex, stop being weird, April. Stop being so goddamned weird. You fucking fucked-up mess. Stop it.
I go to the tiny bathroom with not enough natural light and make my face look pre-sex-ready. I brush my teeth so hard that a little speckle of blood splatters out into the sink when I spit. I use toilet roll as a flannel and wash under my armpits, wiping off the odour of the day. I use Citymapper to work out how to get to Joshua’s. My phone goes as I’m planning my route.
Joshua: Just got in and cooking up a storm. Hope you like Mexican! X
Joshua: PS: My door bell is a bit confusing. Press the button that says ‘7’ and make sure you’re already pushing the door when it buzzes. Any probs, I’ll come down and let you in x
I wish he’d stop being so nice. It puts me on edge. Leaves slug trails of guilt glistening through my blood. I remind myself that he’s only being nice because he is dating an illusion of a woman rather than an actual woman. If I was being me – tired and too hot and not ready to have sex yet and likely to burst into tears at any given moment – well … he wouldn’t be so nice then, would he?
I pack my bag, checking I have everything. I turn the fans off, one by one, till the air in the office is so still and muggy you could cut it into slices. Then I make my way to his.
He greets me holding a giant mixing bowl filled with chopped vegetables. ‘Gretel! You managed to work the buzzer. Congratulations! That makes you infinitely smarter than most of my friends.’
I am beaming with smiles, there is no insecurity inside this body of mine. Gretel is here and it’s Friday and what a wonderful adventure life is. I hold up a bottle of tequila. ‘You said we were having Mexican?’
He leans in to kiss me on the cheek. The bowl clashes between us. ‘Tequila! You’re a legend.’ He kisses me again on the lips this time, slipping in a tiny bit of tongue. ‘Thank you. Right, come on in. Welcome to my flat!’
He takes the bottle in one hand and returns to the kitchen with the bowl in the other. I take off my sandals and follow him, barefoot, trying to sneak glances around as I do. There isn’t a hint of female touch anywhere. The sofa is black and made from cheapish leather. The art’s nondescript – masculine lines hung in basic frames. The gadgets are all top-notch however, showing off his IT nerdery. The TV is massive, with all sorts of fancy wireless speaker set-ups. In the corner there’s a desk with a giant computer with two monitors and all the gear, plus a laptop. In the kitchen, I see further gadgets littered around the place. Cooking thermometers, and a posh coffee-maker. Things with fiddly bits and instruction manuals that would need to be read properly in order to get them to work.
‘Margarita?’ Joshua asks, holding up a state-of-the-art blender.
‘Oh yes please!’
‘Coming right up.’
He leans over to kiss me once more, before blasting the ice into submission. He pulls out two proper margarita glasses and tips the pale green slush into them. He decorates the rims with salt and everything, and I can’t help but be a little touched at the effort he’s made, even though it’s not for me but for Gretel. We ‘cheers’ and take a sip, keeping eye contact as we do. I raise an eyebrow, tell him that I know what he’s planning and I’m totally OK with that, and, without a word spoken, the tension rises in this one-bed new-build in an up and coming area. Joshua swallows too hard. ‘So, fajitas are OK with you?’
‘Totally OK with me. Can I do anything to help?’
‘Nope. Just sit down and delight me with your company, Gretel.’
I perch on a black faux-leather stool and watch Joshua