It was Monday morning, but blissfully, Alex didn’t have anywhere to be except in bed with me. He didn’t need to let his housekeeper in, he didn’t have errands to run, he sure as shit didn’t have to go to the office. We dozed on and off all morning, only waking up to reach out and check the other was still there, still waiting. Eventually, I was forced to seek out the bathroom, slipping away from Alex and padding across the flat. Sitting on the toilet, I was well aware I had a completely stupid grin on my face. I just didn’t know what to do with myself. Compared to the only sex I had ever known, Tyler had been amazing in bed. He was, technically speaking, a god. He knew which buttons to press, in which order and, most importantly, he knew exactly when to press them. But Alex … It had just been so intense. I felt raw and exposed, as if he had stripped me down completely and then put me back together, new and improved. It was incredible. After a sly mouthwash, face splash and mascara removal combo, I tiptoed back through the living room, checking my mobile on the way. A message from Jenny asking if I was OK, a message from Erin to say she’d seen the blog (the blog! I’d forgotten it was out there already) and a message from Tyler, asking if I wanted to go to dinner tomorrow night. I paused in the living room for a moment, perching on the arm of the sofa. Looking back towards Alex’s bedroom door, I thought for a moment. Did I want to go to dinner tomorrow night? I liked Tyler, he was a great guy, but Alex was something else altogether. I quickly replied, a short acceptance. Either way, I had to see Tyler, whether it was a date or I was ending it. And I did have the blog to think about. It would be fine. I tapped out replies to Jenny and Erin, then hurried back into the bedroom, to Alex’s arms.
A couple of indulgent hours later and I reluctantly hit the shower so I could go home and blog. I could hear Alex singing in the kitchen, while I lathered up and smiled. It was such a different world to everything I was used to, and I liked it. Without a walk of shame kit, I did my best, tying my wet hair up, dabbing on some lip gloss and mascara, really not needing any blusher. Slipping back into my dress seemed to put a full stop at the end of the sentence. I really did have to go outside now, it had to be done. I didn’t have another pair of knickers, home was the only option.
Alex was making coffee, real coffee, in a T-shirt and shorts when I emerged. It was so wrong that I had just spent twenty minutes putting myself back together and he looked as cute, as sexy as ever, pillow creases, bedhead and all.
‘So you do know how to use your kitchen,’ I said, accepting a steaming mug of black coffee and dropping back onto the sofa. I knew I had to leave, but my legs were determined to make it difficult by refusing to work.
‘I live on my coffee when we’re recording.’ He sat down next to me. ‘Sorry if it’s a little strong. Coffee I’m good with, but I never seem to have milk.’
‘Don’t worry, it’s nice,’ I lied. It was like tar. ‘What are you up to today?’
He shrugged. ‘I might try and write some more. I got some good stuff yesterday.’
‘Do you just write here?’ I asked, swirling my cup. The ‘coffee’ barely moved.
‘Yeah, well, the music,’ he nodded towards an acoustic guitar leaning against the wall. ‘I usually write the music with that, then take it in to the guys and we work it up. The lyrics I write all over the place. Wherever they come to me.’
‘It must be so cool to be able to do that,’ I shook my head in awe. ‘I can’t imagine sitting down with a guitar and just pulling something out of the air like that.’
‘It’s only what you do when you write.’ He smiled lazily and pushed a stray strand of damp hair behind my ear. It was well past midday and so warm that my hair was almost dry. ‘It’s just writing what you’re thinking.’
‘I suppose so,’ I said, letting my cheek rest against his hand. It would have been so easy just to stay there with him.
‘You sure you’ve got to go?’ he whispered, his eyes glowing, his voice deepening.
No no no no no no no.
‘Yes,’ I sighed. I leaned in for a soft, promising kiss and then pulled myself back. ‘I really can’t get behind, and I have to file my blog by four.’
‘I can’t imagine what you’re going to write about,’ he grinned. ‘What if my mom reads it?’
‘Don’t!’ I flushed and stood up. ‘I’m not writing porn, it’s a diary about my experiences. And it runs four days behind anyway.’
‘Don’t tell me that wasn’t an experience.’ He flicked at my hem with his foot. ‘And how come it’s so behind, so they can edit out all the good stuff?’
‘No, it’s just what they do, in case I get ill or something.’ I picked up my bag. I wanted to sink back onto that sofa by the side of him more than anything. ‘So you’ll have to wait until next week to see what I’m going to post.’
‘I’m not too worried,’ he said, dragging himself up and walking over to the door. ‘I don’t think anyone has any cause for complaint.’
He pulled me in close for a deep goodbye kiss, making me drop my beautiful, beautiful bag. Bad man.
‘I’ll call you later?’ He opened the door while I slowly backed out.
‘OK.’ I nodded, crossing the threshold into the hall. Wow, this was hard. ‘Talk to you later then?’
‘Yeah.’ He leaned out for one more kiss before I turned and headed to the lift.
Get in the lift. Get in the lift.
I sneaked a quick look back, Alex just leaning against his doorway. I shook my head and pushed myself through the lift doors as they slid open, and pressed the G button. I definitely deserved an award for leaving, first time and everything.
I was so wrapped up in Alex, it didn’t even occur to me to be proud as I headed towards the L, hopped straight on the subway and changed at Union Square, heading north to Grand Central. My first non-pre-planned subway journey and I’d only looked at a map once.
Jenny was already home when I dashed through the door, drinkable coffee in one hand, keys in the other.
‘Hey,’ she said, rising from the sofa as I flashed through the room. ‘What’s up?’
‘Got to email my blog,’ I called from my room. And despite how well the evening had gone, I was still a little bit pissed off with her and her one-woman show. ‘Give me half an hour?’
‘OK, but then I want all the details,’ she yelled from the living room.
I looked at the screen of my laptop. It glowed impatiently, demanding me to spill every last little fact like an iJenny. But I couldn’t do it. It had been so easy, practically cathartic, to write about things with Tyler, but this was different. I wanted to protect it. Instead of hashing out every new position, every new sensation, I found myself bashing out 200 words on The Adventures of Angela: When is it OK to break The Rules? I wrote about Jenny and Jeff getting back together, I wrote about accepting dates less than two days in advance, and I wrote about just how bloody hard it was to stick to the stupid bloody things. Who came up with them in the first place? They hadn’t seemed to work for anyone I’d met yet. Erin was rocketing through husbands like last season’s Manolos, and Jenny cheated on her ex, but got him back. That wasn’t in The Rules.
I stopped tapping away and paused. There was so much I could say about Alex, but it just didn’t seem to want to put itself into words. It wasn’t as if I was denying Alex’s existence, I just didn’t want to go into details yet. Or mention I’d stayed over. Or that I’d had the most incredible sex ever. I wanted to keep that to myself for a little while longer.
Well, I was open to sharing with Jenny. And Erin. And