Chapter Twenty
The morning after the night before had started out so well. Kirk cuddled up to her, spooning her from behind; holding her in a lazy, comforting embrace that made her feel like she was floating effortlessly on a cloud. Heaven. That’s what it was. Heaven.
“You look so cute,” he cooed. “Like a little hamster all curled up.”
Sasha giggled.
“Why aren’t you being adored twenty-four seven?” he went on, curling his arms tighter around her.
Sasha’s thoughts whirred when she heard this comment. Why aren’t I being adored? Er… because you left me? You walked out the door, and I didn’t hear from you again for months, and my heart was broken into so many smithereens that I couldn’t contemplate the thought of cuddling up to someone again.
But she quickly brushed that thought away. She didn’t want to be angry today. She didn’t want to be resentful. She wanted to glow in the love that he was showering on her. It was just like old times.
The snuggling and cuddling led to petting, which led to lovely, lazy sex. And then they both drifted into another sleep. It was perfect.
Waking from her slumber later, her stomach growled in angry impatience. She was starving. Climbing out of bed and letting Kirk sleep on, she padded into the kitchen and began to rustle up a big breakfast for them; sausages, beans, mushrooms, bacon, toast.
Kirk, awoken by the tempting aroma, sleepily wandered into the kitchen, placing an arm around Sasha’s waist and planting a kiss on her forehead.
“Wow, this smells gorgeous,” he sighed.
They sat at the dining table; eating breakfast and watching TV. Later, they lay on the sofa watching rubbish TV, and then Sasha ran a bath.
Sasha noted smugly that they must look like something out of a magazine; the lazy sexy Sunday couple.
It’s just like old times, Sasha thought. It was as if they had clicked into couple mode straightaway. Sasha suddenly realised she kept calling him ‘love’ the way she used to. It just slipped out. “What’s that, love?” or “No problem, love.” It was like riding a bike. It was so natural.
However, she could have sworn that Kirk bristled at the word ‘love’. It popped out of her mouth effortlessly, but she just sensed an awkwardness from him. It wasn’t something she could put her finger on – it was just a vibe. As though the ‘love’ comment unsettled him.
Perhaps he thought she was taking liberties. Perhaps he thought that she was assuming everything was back to normal with them. She never said it again after that.
“I want to take you out for dinner tonight,” Kirk announced.
Sasha glowed with pleasure. “Aw… that’s really sweet but you really don’t have to…” Sasha began.
“I want to,” Kirk insisted. “You’ve let me stay, you’ve cooked for me, this is my way of saying thanks.” He was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, calm, composed. She felt a burst of love for him then. Everything was going to be okay. She busied herself looking for an outfit to wear. Unsure of which, she excitedly carried three dresses in to Kirk and held them up in front of him.
“Which one do you think I should wear tonight, love?” she asked excitedly. Oops, the ‘love’ word had slipped out again.
And that was when she noticed the shift in his demeanour. He looked awkward, and shrugged in a non-committal fashion.
“I dunno.” he said. “Whichever you feel most comfortable in.”
Sasha felt a hot flush of shame spread across her cheeks.
“But which one do you think is nice?” she persisted, not wanting to make her little show just suddenly disappear. She was here now, she had to ride it out.
“The middle one,” he responded, half-heartedly.
“Grand. I’ll wear that one, then,” she said, trotting off to get ready and feeling mildly embarrassed.
When she returned to the living-room, dressed in the outfit that he had expressed a preference on, she was expecting him to say, ‘you look nice’ or some other compliment, like he used to make. But no such comment was forthcoming. In fact, he cleared his throat and proceeded to make a little speech, which she could only imagine he had been thinking up whilst she was getting ready.
“I was having a think about us going out for dinner,” he said. He had adopted that serious look, the one he used to have before his talk-a-thons.
“Oh yeah…?” Sasha ventured, her heart quickening. Something felt wrong.
“I was worried I was maybe giving you the wrong impression…” he began. “That maybe you’d see dinner as us being a couple; getting back together. But then I told myself, ‘no, it’s fine – Sasha will know I only mean dinner as friends’.”
It felt like a slap in the face; a short, sharp slap. One that left her eyes stinging.
It was as if he was pulling the shutters down; creating a barrier between them. A brick wall had suddenly been erected and he was pushing her out. He had gone from ‘twenty-four seven cuddles’ in the morning to ‘we’re just friends’ by dinner time.
It was as if he was saying to her, ‘hold on, missy. You’re getting a little ahead of yourself here. Just slow down a little. We are not getting back together. We are just going out for a friendly dinner. So you can stop calling me love and assuming that we’re back together.’
He even made a point of telling her that Denise had texted him; saying that she missed him.
Sasha felt herself withdrawing into her shell. Had she assumed they had got back together? Of course she had. Would she have opened her home to him (never mind her heart and her legs) if she knew this was just a one night stand? Of course not.
What she had mistaken for being a romantic weekend of realising that they couldn’t live without each other and had to get back together, was totally misguided.
In fact, the reality was that he had had a fight with his current girlfriend. They were on a short break, and during that break he had nipped off to see his ex to have a quick shag and let off some steam.
She felt humiliated. But pride prevented her from saying anything. Pride made her pretend that she had assumed it was the same set-up; just a quick shag for old time’s sake.
The atmosphere between them was stilted. The chat descended into polite small talk. It was as if they were strangers who had only just met.
The meal went on in excruciating silence. Sasha wished that Kirk would drink, but he chose only to have water. If he had a drink, she thought, at least he’d loosen up a bit. In fact, if he had any of those tablets, that’d be even better. But it seemed as if all the tablets were gone. Perhaps that was the reason for the downer. Perhaps he was hungover and on a comedown. When he had been cuddling her and kissing her, perhaps he was still under the influence of the drink and the tablets. Drugs were helping him to relax and be free and easy with his emotions. When sobriety kicked in again, perhaps he regretted his actions. In the cold light of day, perhaps he thought about Denise, about his security; about how he shouldn’t be visiting his ex.
Sasha didn’t dare to think that perhaps this was all just a drunken mistake for him.