Page 40 of Love Unlocked

She feels safe.

They walk and talk around and around the city, laughing and chatting. She doesn’t feel the cold, or the time passing. They barely come up for air, the conversation is flowing. The ebb and flow of jokes and confession, of talking and listening, from concealing to revealing. Their direction seems aimless, until suddenly he stops walking.

‘I live here.’

She looks up at the glass monstrosity which resembles her apartment.

‘It’s an Airbnb, I only have it until the owners come back from Australia in March. Melody,’ he says seriously. ‘I don’t really like you.’

She recognises the playful tone in his voice and goes with it. Reverse psychology.

‘And I very much don’t think I could spend more than one night with you. Ever.’

Her entire body buzzes. ‘Probably not even a full night. I like to be home by five a.m. Usually bad things don’t happen after five a.m.’

‘Definitely not a whole night. In fact if you could leave before five that would be ideal.’

She laughs.

‘I can barely stand the sight of you.’

‘Easy,’ she says, warning.

‘No, I like the sight of you,’ he says gently. ‘Would you like to come to my place and kill a few meaningless hours that will mean absolutely nothing to me?’

‘When you kiss me, will you think of your ex?’

He laughs, a machine-gun burst of a laugh. ‘Absolutely, I’ll be comparing you the entire time.’

‘Excellent,’ she grins, stomach swirling with butterflies and her heart pounding with desire. He knows just how to treat a girl with commitment issues. ‘How could a girl say no to all of that sweet-talk?’

He holds the door open for her. He hits the call button on the lift and he lets go of her hand for the first time since he took it, and steps inside. She’s assuming he has forgotten her fear of confined spaces, and she remains firmly outside the lift.

Then he turns around to face her. He hits the button. ‘See you on sixteen.’

He winks as the doors close and she laughs, her voice echoing through the empty marble reception. When she was with him she didn’t realise how alone she was, his sudden absence causes her to feel the cold, and plummets her into quiet. Her hand throbs for his. She doesn’t like still and quiet. She puts a foot on the first step, then pauses. Her heart is pounding. She really wants him, which terrifies her.

Only till five a.m.

Then she smiles and takes the next steps forward.

On the tenth floor she gets in her own head and stops walking.

13

AL

Al’s heart is banging in his chest as he rushes around the apartment tidying. Fixing the cushions on the couch, clearing off the kitchen counter space, tidying his bed which was already made but making it neater, plumping the cushions, turning them diagonally, which makes him think of Tara so he returns them to square shape. It is enough as it is. He is enough as he is. He brushes his teeth. Sprays deodorant, takes a look down his pants to make sure everything is in order.

Sixteen floors is a long way to walk. You have to be sure about what you want in order to keep going and while Melody is a determined person, showing up at his office and his home for a start, she is openly against relationships. He doubts she will make it to the second floor. He leaves the brush to hang from his mouth, as he considers the fact he has been rushing around for nothing. This is not a relationship, he made that very clear. He wants Melody for tonight, very much wants her for tonight, he is not in the headspace for anything more. The fact that he can be honest with her about this is a gift, the fact it’s what she wants to hear makes it an even more perfect arrangement. He respects the honesty. Frankly it’s a relief and it’s refreshing.

But if she hadn’t held his hand the way she held his hand tonight as they walked around the city then he would believe all that a bit more.

How long has he been standing here? How long does it take to walk up sixteen flights of stairs? She’s fit, definitely fit, he’d checked, couldn’t help but notice the cropped sweater that stopped above her pierced belly button, even in January. Her long chestnut hair, and brown eyes. Her cute pierced button nose beneath the woollen hat. Her husky voice. He no longer feels the urge to clear his throat when she speaks, instead he wants to kiss her neck, get as close to her voice box as he can and thank it for making those sounds.

The anger has left him. He’s back in the mood again. He removes his shirt and changes into a clean T-shirt. He splashes Chanel Bleu on his neck and wrists and then regrets it. It was Tara’s favourite scent, he should have chosen something else. Then suddenly he gets nervous. He and Tara had been together for five years. He hasn’t slept with anyone else since then. He was good at one-night stands and dating, until he wasn’t, and then he was so relieved to be out of that world when he met Tara. The exhaustion of dating. The games, the wasted energy, having to present the best version of yourself all the time. Always a miscommunication, somebody being disappointed or upset because of a variation in expectations. Being on the same page is crucial. He smiles thinking about this evening’s conversation with Melody. The raw honesty between them from the get-go. The sharing of personal fears and heartbreak. He’d cried for Christ sake and he hadn’t felt the slightest bit embarrassed about it. In fact it had inconvenienced him to the point he thinks he’s over crying about those two against his will again. He has never met anyone like Melody. She’s funny. He starts to get nervous now about her not coming. He wonders what floor she’s on now. If he should go down and meet her halfway. He leans against the back of the couch, folds his arms and watches the apartment door, willing her knocks to come, feeling like a pet when their owner has left for work.

The silence makes him nervous. He searches through his phone for music he thinks she’ll like, Ibiza Essentials. The first selection sounds as if he’s having a rave, and so he changes it to Ibiza Chill-Out. It sounds like he’s in a spa. He overthinks the music situation because she’s an expert and so he turns it off. But it’s too quiet, so he puts it back on. For someone who has lived and breathed break-up songs every day for the past few weeks, which were central to his survival, he suddenly can’t think of one upbeat song to play. He settles on Ibiza Sexy Chill Beats, turns it down low.