All she’d been told was to pack a bag of overnight things and something she could wear out to dinner. Other than that, Chloe had no idea where they were going. Scott picked her up at just gone five o’clock after finishing work. Chloe had been off that day; a rare lazy Sunday spent idling away the hours in Alex’s back garden, making the most of an uncharacteristically warm June. The air had felt so still those past few weeks, so peaceful, that to Chloe’s young yet cynical mind it was inevitable there was something lurking around the corner to upset this alien calm.

In the meantime, she was making a concerted effort to try to enjoy the here and now.

‘What’s this mystery trip in aid of then?’ she asked, as she put her bag in the back and got into the passenger seat of Scott’s car. ‘My birthday’s not for another six weeks.’

He shot her a smile. ‘Does there have to be an occasion?’

‘Usually.’

‘OK,’ he said, stretching the letters in a drawl. ‘It’s Sunday.’

‘And …?’

He gave a shrug as he pulled away from the kerb. ‘Day ends with a y,’ he suggested.

Chloe laughed. She knew it didn’t sound as relaxed as she had hoped it would; if anything, there was something stilted and forced, which she knew he would pick up on. The truth was she’d been dreading this evening. Their six-month relationship had been so far a very calm and steady affair: dinner dates once a week, the occasional cinema trip at weekends (work permitting) and afternoons on mutual days off spent on the sofa at Scott’s flat when his housemate was working and they had the place to themselves.

It had all been very polite.

Yet despite how well they’d been getting on and how much she liked him, Chloe was aware of the elephant in the room. They’d still not had sex. It was ridiculous, she thought – only adolescents and members of the kind of religious group she’d managed to escape from years ago dated someone for six months without having sex with that person, and yet regardless of how much she might have wanted to sleep with Scott, she could never find herself able to switch her mind off from the past. Until she found a way to do it, she felt she was destined to live the life of a nun.

The thought that most men would have given up by now often preyed on her mind. She glanced at Scott as he drove the car down the slip road and on to the M4 headed west. He looked impossibly handsome; even more handsome than the first time she had seen him, way back before Christmas, chatting with another member of staff at the poolside in the leisure centre where he worked. She had found herself unable to take her eyes off him then, like some lovesick teenager transfixed by the new boy at school. Now, she still couldn’t believe that she was here, sitting in his car beside him.

Something had to go wrong. And yet, so far, there had been no well-concealed flaw let carelessly slip; no chip in the otherwise perfect exterior.

Chloe had lived a life that had repeatedly reminded her of the mantra that if something appeared too good to be true, it usually was. The thought wasn’t helping her in her quest to move forward: a move Alex was constantly reminding her she needed to make.

---

When they arrived at the hotel, Chloe realised it must have cost a small fortune. She had never stayed in a hotel where a member of staff carried guests’ bags to the room, and within moments of merely being in the lobby she found herself feeling horribly out of place.

‘You OK?’ Scott asked, sensing her anxiety.

Chloe took a glance at the clothes she was wearing – sandals, leggings and a thin cotton off-the-shoulder sweater – and felt a wave of relief at the thought of the dress in her suitcase. ‘Yeah, fine,’ she lied.

They went to their room to dress for dinner – Chloe changing in the bathroom in order to keep any glimpse of her body concealed from Scott – and went down to the hotel’s restaurant. She felt mildly ridiculous in the dress she had chosen: an outfit that was so unlike her she wouldn’t have blamed Scott for thinking an intruder had emerged from the en suite. She took pride in her appearance and in her day-to-day life liked to look smart, professional, yet now she was unable to shake off the feeling that she resembled a cast member of an MTV reality show. As they sat, she tugged at the hemline of the dress, wondering whether in her eagerness to look as though she’d made an obvious effort she had ended up appearing desperate.

‘You look lovely,’ Scott told her.

‘I feel stupid.’

Scott opened the menu, using it as an excuse to ignore the comment. ‘What do you fancy?’ he asked, not looking up.

They were interrupted by a waitress, who took their drinks order. Chloe studied the menu without really looking at it, self-consciously pushing a short strand of fading blonde behind her ear. Until recently, her hair had always been long. It had also been bottle-blonde, but she was now allowing the colour to grow out.

When the waitress left, Scott put his menu on the table. ‘Do you want to go?’

‘No,’ Chloe said, too quickly.

‘You just don’t look like you want to be here. We can go and get a bag of chips, order a takeaway … We don’t have to eat here.’

‘It’s fine,’ she said, the words snapping from her more abruptly than she’d intended. Her gaze fell to her left, and to the couple on the next table. The woman was looking over at them, making no attempt to hide her interest in their conversation.

‘I’ll have the beetroot salad,’ Chloe said, choosing the first vegetarian option she’d seen.

Scott returned his attention to the menu. When the waitress came back with their drinks, he ordered food. They sat in silence, the awkwardness punctuated by the occasional comment about the restaurant’s unusual decor and then, later, the food.

‘Is it OK?’ Scott asked. Chloe had been pushing her salad around the plate with her fork, unaware she’d been doing it until she was interrupted. What was wrong with her? she wondered. She was in a lovely restaurant with a lovely man; someone who paid her enough attention to care how her food was. Wasn’t this what she’d wanted?

‘It’s great.’

‘Tell your face then.’ It was said with a smile, but Chloe realised she was proving a disappointment.

‘Come on,’ Scott said, trying to catch the attention of the waitress. ‘I’ll get the bill.’

---

Back up in their room, Scott was quick to apologise. ‘This was a stupid idea. I’m so sorry.’

Chloe sat on the edge of the bed. ‘Don’t be silly, it’s not you …’ She cut herself short, aware of what she’d almost said. Of course it wasn’t him – they both knew that much already. It was her and all her stupid insecurities: her reluctance to let anyone too close, her inability to shut off her memories, her apparently incessant need to continue punishing herself for past mistakes.

‘I just, you know … You mentioned feeling guilty about being at Alex’s so much, and Ben’s always at mine, so …’ Scott covered his face with his hands and sighed. ‘Sorry.’

‘Stop saying sorry.’

She patted the duvet beside her, realising as soon as she’d done so that she was like a pet owner beckoning a faithful dog. She wondered how the situation could possibly become any more embarrassing. ‘It’s OK. Honestly.’

He sat beside her. ‘I’ve just gauged this all wrong. It’s a bit too much, isn’t it?’

Chloe nodded. ‘Can I put my other clothes back on?’

‘Course you can. You do look lovely, though.’

She laughed. ‘Don’t be nice. I’m just a fake tan away from Geordie Shore.’

She made to stand from the bed, but Scott took her hand in his, holding her back. ‘I didn’t bring you with the intention of … you know. That’s not what this is about.’

‘Well of course it is.’

She spoke the words before she had time to consider their possible reception. Scott looked as though she’d just thrown something at him: a sort of wounded, shocked expression that evidenced the fact he hadn’t expected her to be quite so blunt about it.

‘Come on, Scott,’ she said, desperate now to make light of the increasingly awkward situation. ‘Dinner, hotel room … You weren’t really planning on us coming back here for a game of Scrabble, were you?’

His eyes remained fixed on her, whether in surprise or disappointment Chloe couldn’t be sure. ‘Actually, I did ask the manager if I could borrow the Scrabble board, but she’s already loaned it out to room twelve.’

Chloe’s face softened and she jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. ‘I’m sorry. This is lovely, it really is. It’s just … I want to, but …’ She looked away, embarrassed by the words that hadn’t even been spoken.

‘You don’t have to explain anything.’

I do, she thought. She already had, several times over – to the point at which she’d become bored of the sound of her own voice – and yet no matter how often she tried to explain to him why physical intimacy had become such an issue, the words always sounded ridiculous and her reasoning seemed more and more absurd.

Scott squeezed her hand and leaned in to kiss her. ‘The seafront’s just a few streets away,’ he said. ‘Fancy going for a walk?’

She smiled. ‘Love to.’