Page 64 of Little Miss Fortune

When Toby’s alarm goes off, I am surprised to see the bed empty. Actually, no, let me rephrase that. I am surprised to see myself in the bed. What the fuck was I thinking last night to end up in Toby Lewis’s apartment at seven in the morning with no clothes on.

I look around, head furiously banging after every 10°. The room is dark, the walls just as bare as the ones in the living room. A floor-to-ceiling wardrobe seems to be the only decoration. My clothes, I realise, are in the other room.

With the duvet covers over my shoulders, I shuffle out to the initial scene of the crime, trying to locate my pants, trousers, bra, and shirt. The small light is on in the living room; Toby, fully dressed with a cup of coffee in front of him, is typing something on his laptop.

‘Morning. Do you want a cup as well?’ he asks with a smile, peeping at the legs that are sticking out as I walk.

‘Yes, please,’ I grumble, grabbing my pile from the sofa that Toby has folded.

The thought of him folding my pants sends creeps down my back. As if I am a child that was too keen to undress at nursery.

I locate the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror: hair competently dishevelled, black circles brewing under my eyes. This might be the worst thing I have done. I just slept with Toby Lewis—my (ex) supervisor and my (ex) best friend’s (ex) almost-boyfriend. What made me commit such a crime against reason? Loneliness? Boredom? Because there is no other explanation for this impulsiveness. Why did you not join a book club or go to the cinema, then, Fuko?

‘Milk or black?’ Toby knocks on the door.

I haphazardly rush to put everything on, missing the correct trouser hole. ‘Black, please.’

When I walk out, my coffee cup is steaming on the wooden kitchen counter.

‘Why were you up before your alarm?’ I ask, throwing the duvet back on the bed.

‘I had an earlier one to go on a run.’

‘Are you training for something?’ I take an awkward small sip. Damn, that’s strong coffee. I guess I need it.

‘No.’

‘So, you went on a run on a workday after a drinking sesh just for the fun of it? You must be joking.’

Toby chuckles, placing his empty cup in the sink. He comes behind and gives me a kiss on the temple. It’s gentle and soft; he is so warm against my back that I forget where I am for a moment. But then I recoil.

‘Woah, why did you do that?’ I feel like a turtle hiding in its shell.

‘What?’ He laughs.

‘You just kissed my forehead. That’s... a bit presumptuous, don’t you think?’ I look away.

‘Fuko. We had sex,’ he says with amusement that melts away at the sight of my genuine discomfort.

‘Yeah, that doesn’t mean anything.’ I say it more for my sake.

Toby looks around, as if to see whether there are hidden cameras anywhere. ‘Did you not hear me yesterday? We were sitting on this couch, and I spilled out this great speech about my feelings for you.’

Hearing it again makes the heat rise in my cheeks.

‘But sex is just slightly different to being, I don’t know, couply.’

‘So, what, we fuck and that’s it?’

‘No, it’s just...’

His eyes are round, waiting to react to my excuse.

‘Casual, one-time-only sex is fine. I just think it’s a bad time for anything else.’

As the words leave my mouth, as I see Toby grimace at my comment, I feel like a man, like a horrible man that used a woman for her body only.

‘Casual, one-time-sex? If I knew that was the case, Fuko, I wouldn’t have fucked you. I would gladly have waited until we have been on three dates, as dating in civilised society advises. I don’t want a one-time thing. But I assumed, wrongly I now realise, that you kissing me meant that we might be on the same page.’